Jon Benton: What I did on my summer vacation

Trekking through another dozen or so miles of mountainous forest, I shrugged my shoulders to reposition the 35-pound backpack.

The pack had practically become a part of me, and while it was usually a welcome extension, I was beginning to view it more as a lousy tumor than anything else.

I hadn't worn a shirt in weeks, though a not-so-thin layer of sweat offered substitution, and my face was covered in stubbly patches of hair.

Sighing, my companion, fellow Merced College student Jo Fawna Reali, and I used bandanas to wipe the sweat from our brows and then persevered on, knowing we'd have to hustle to find a spot to pitch a tent before nightfall ...

Three months ago, I penned a Sun-Star column exhorting Merced College students and all members of the community to venture out and make the most of their summer.

Taking my own advice, I hiked and hitchhiked a 300-mile section of the Appalachian Trail, briefly visiting Washington, D.C., and New York, before returning home.

I knew the experience would be an interesting one -- the luxury of a warm bed was exchanged for a tent and sleeping bag, a fully stocked fridge replaced by Clif Bars, jerky and chemically treated water.

And the experience was truly incredible: refreshing yet enthralling, challenging and rewarding.

But one of the most striking aspects of the experience was how quickly things fell back into place upon arriving back to Merced.

The exhilaration of squatting in abandoned motel rooms or frolicking with an unencumbered elephant was relegated to a nostalgic domain.

In its stead was the frustration of navigating through an overpopulated campus and a future shrouded in uncertainty, as my transfer plans endure California's embarrassing deferment of adopting a budget.

But all things considered, it's really just another semester at Merced College.

Indeed, an old semester has come and gone, and this new semester isn't drastically different from semesters past.

Sure, the campus has exploded with new students young and old, and the media buzz surrounding these record-breaking numbers isn't unwarranted.

During the first week, every class was standing-room-only, filled with nervous students desperately pleading with the instructor to be added to the already bloated roster.

Financial aid lines were atrocious, and since classes began I've probably invested no less than half a tank of gas just looking for parking spots (none of which is free anymore).

Plus, the many students (such as myself) waiting to figure out if they will be able to attend college next year, since many universities are pending acceptance until a budget is approved, giving them an idea of how many students they can accommodate.

I could take this chance to pontificate about how inconvenient and annoying the boom of students is and how our state's lack of an approved budget is ludicrous and even insulting.

Or I could spin these changes in a positive light, praising the masses' renewed interest in higher education and how delayed acceptance into California universities gives students time to plan and affirm their educational courses of action.

But none of this is new.

Community colleges thrive exactly because they give the general public an accessible path to education.

They will always be crowded and swarming with a hodgepodge of students.

Likewise, California has rarely had all its ducks in a row, and it hasn't been uncommon for universities to be forced to limit their enrollment numbers. Despite the hang-ups accompanying Merced College and its students, college life is surprisingly familiar and ordinary.

I embarked on the Appalachian Trail with great expectations that my adventures would leave me with live-changing impressions. And in many ways it did. Limits were tested, perspectives were changed, and lasting memories were imprinted onto my brain.

But since then, shirts have been worn, facial hair has been shaved and I'm back in the regular swing of things.

In the same way, I came into this semester with the images of those throngs of students frantically registering last May in my mind and rumors of California's budget fiasco echoing in my ears. I harbored grim and uneasy expectations.

But just like my Applachian Trail experience, while some of these expectations have been met, I have found that things are primarily just as they were, and they will probably continue to be so for a long time to come.

"Ob-la-di Ob-la-da life goes on ... La la, how life goes on."

Jon Benton is a philosophy major at Merced College and hopes to transfer to Sonoma in the spring if the budget allows.