Come at me, bro!

I feel smothered, by regrets and memories, by anticipation and reflection. The times they are a'changing and, as usual, I'm struggling to deal. I carry the cardboard down the hall of the Memorial Union out to the dumpster on campus and I sigh a pitiful little sigh to myself.

No, not now. Please don't make me leave these people I love. They don't know how much I love them. I didn't even know it until I realized I would be saying good-bye. 

I'm comparing my transition out of undergrad to my transition out of high school in an effort to give myself some perspective. It's ironic, because I struggled so long and hard to preserve my time in high school, taking a homeschooler's prerogative and staying five years instead of four. It's been quite the opposite in college, a pragmatic's struggle to speed through her degree in three years instead of four, so I guess it all balances out. This hair-splitting of time reminds me that milestones are arbitrary, they sit where you set them, and so I am not afraid to move forward. The race is not against others, instead the competition is within my own heart.

College gave me some unexpected but rich experiences. Some practical, some useless, all ridiculous. Such as . . .

Learning how to use a freight elevator.

Attending my first Bonnet Shores house party. 

Losing a sorority scavenger hunt.

Hosting my own radio show.

Slack-lining on the quad.

Filming a television editorial.

Discussing general education reform with the Arts & Sciences dean.

Presenting my research project to the honors department director.

Selecting the honorary degree recipients.

Sitting on a committee with the provost.

I can graduate college and assert, I have work experience! I have a BA! Even in this sickly economy, I can potentially support myself! I'm graduated, come at me bro.

Also, look me up in four years and see if I ever made it in and out of law school. I'm interested to see how that one works out.