It's the same old story, really. The classes change, but here I still sit, waiting for...something to solidify that yes, I am in fact a senior in college. I've been asked at least thirteen times in two weeks if I'm a freshman. I still wear my dopey smile at Dobs, wondering why I haven't quit by now.
I sip rum concoctions while reading Shakespeare, but all that makes me is 21. I'm still 16. I'm practically 25.
Sticky notes adorn my desk, names like Northwestern and Sarah Lawrence make me jittery and nervous and anticipating the change that's waiting to slap me in the face. It occupies my mind like a high school crush. I sit in class and drum my fingers to the beat of Bronxville and Chicago and Laramie and Pittsburgh.
It's so close I could probably reach out and touch it all, the sounds and smells and tastes of traveling, living somewhere new. But I don't. I'm still in the in-between, between starting senior classes and applying to grad schools. Between kissing goodbye four years of familiarity and skipping into the arms of all things unknown. Between knowing who I am and who I can become, I suppose.
Will I be more grown-up in a year? Will I learn to like beer? Will I learn to speak in front of more than twelve people with having a nervous breakdown? Will I sit in classrooms discussing intelligent topics like...well, probably not. Who the hell cares?
I'm more interested in crazy tangents and the impossibility of nonsensical ramblings, anyway.
All of this future-oriented stuff is a tick. One of the lime-disease carrying kinds. Right now, I'm going to learn how to be a senior. And then, then, I will dive head first into everything that awaits me next year.
You've got a lot to look forward to, but I suggest you make learning to like beer your #1 priority this year. ;) Good luck and enjoy the excitement of not knowing what will come next.
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