Time to go

I’ve been thinking about leaving the 100 Hour Board lately. Not that my zeal for writing or my loyalty to the Board has waned; on the contrary, I think I spend more of my time doing Board related things than ever before. I’ve just been thinking about the road ahead, and it inevitably will involve my withdrawal from that most splendid of online institutions. You can’t stay at BYU forever, though many a Super Senior has made a valiant attempt. In my case, the real world is fast coming up to meet me. Maybe it was all brought home this last week as The Redhead and I researched prices for renting a moving van. That was when it really hit me: we’re going. We are packin’ up and movin’ out, and will probably not see our friends here for quite some time. Not only is it a scary (and expensive) proposition, it’s a big change. I’m simultaneously reluctant and eager to get it over with, so I’m wondering if I should just make the jump now. Or maybe soon. I’m not entirely sure that I’ll be missed, anyway. The Board is bigger and larger than any one person. Ambrosia could leave and the Board would continue. I know this because it already happened, although we are certainly glad she’s back. But I am definitely no Ambrosia; I’ve never commanded such a following or drawn such praise as the Board big-namers. Maybe it’s just not my style—I just write, answer questions, do my thing, and that’s it. Maybe I don’t merit anything more than curious interest—I certainly don’t think I do. My answers aren’t especially brilliant. I’d like to think they reach the funny stage on occasion, but they’re mostly just answers. What gives me the idea that anybody should think otherwise?

The first time I started thinking about leaving was when Balthazar left. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say a word about him since then, but I sure miss the guy. I miss the Keeper and Saurus and Othello and She Who Must Not Be Named and PEZkopf. Perhaps even more than that, I miss the days when people would actually recognize those names. The other day one of the writers asked who the Mighty Quinn was, and I almost fell off my chair. Have we lost our roots? But I guess it’s part of the natural process of infusing new blood into an ever-growing system. I like the new blood okay, for the most part. They’re perfectly capable of carrying on. So maybe it is time for me to move out. I’m not submitting my letter of resignation or anything. I’m just thinking about my exit strategy. That strategy probably involves me riding silently off into the sunset, which is fine with me. I’ll have the memories—and what memories they are. Who could forget the stairs question? Or PEZkopf’s continual encouragement to drop your girlfriend and go buy a PS2? Or the Captain’s vicious yet intelligent anti-liberal tirades? Or Misaneroth’s wildly hilarious humor that is above the intellect of most readers? The memories make it all worthwhile.