The G-word. I’ve been avoiding it for months now, but the more I think about it, the less scary it becomes. It’s not graduation that’s scaring the hell out of me. It’s what comes after that. It’s the unknown. Some people may say they have a job lined up or have been accepted into their grad school of choice. That does not create certainty. I do have a job lined up, and I’ll tell you something: it has not eased my nerves, one bit. In fact, it has only made me more hesitant, uneasy, stressed out, physically ill (I’m literally breaking out in stress hives. TMI? I don’t care.) So listen, for all of you seniors who don’t have plans, it will be okay. I swear to you, the longer you have to wait, the bigger the opportunity will be. It is taking its time getting to you because it is just dang incredible.
So, no, I am not looking forward to graduating, to leaving this little ball of comfort we call good ol’ Dubuque. I am not looking forward to saying goodbye to experiences like Dance Marathon, late nights in the media lab, writing Lorian articles, or walks up the oblivion of Loras Boulevard. I am not looking forward to saying goodbye to the best people I’ve ever met (you know who you are). I am not looking forward to the future. Sorry to all my professors, teachers, random motivational speakers, parents, advice-givers, etc. Nothing you say is going to make this better, easier, or happier. I will cross that stage on May 20 with tears in my eyes and running swiftly down my face. Waterproof makeup will be worn, I assure you.
But until then, I will look forward to my final Dance Marathon, playing weird games invented by even weirder TV shows, group messages being sent when everyone is in the same room, walking to my friends’ houses, hanging out in dingy basements, laughing until I cry, crying until I laugh, and everything in between. I will look forward to my last few lectures with outstanding professors who taught me the importance of storytelling and the beauty of language. I will look forward to spending the rest of my time making it count. Making every bad memory a funny one, every good memory an unforgettable one, and every present moment one that lasts for the rest of my life.
People always told me that college would be the best four years of my life. They weren’t lying. Thank you Loras for making this one of the hardest goodbyes I have ever said.