April has been a month of lasts. Last week, I suffered my final round of college midterms. This past weekend I took my last day stumble through a Flinged-out Quad. And, tomorrow, I will trek to my last Friday morning class (eff you Formal Reasoning requirement). Yes, some of these lasts are bittersweet, but somehow I can only dwell on the bitter.
Most days I have senioritis. I go to class and realize that learning how to integrate using u-substitution won’t really help me get a job, succeed or be happy. I sit through seminars, in which we discuss the social ills that plague our society and opt out of writing my Blackboard response because it definitely won’t make the world a better place. Even finishing my thesis seemed more like a lesson in futility — because really, who cares to read 50 pages on Sarah Palin — than anything worthwhile. Like every other senior I know, I’m over this school thing.
But that in no way means that I am ready to graduate. I am content with neglecting my work, hanging out with my friends and enjoying my last month at Penn.
After high school I was all set to graduate. My grades didn’t matter. My AP exams really didn’t matter (thanks, Penn). I was so over high school boys and high school parties and was ready to move on to my bigger, better, independent, big-city, college-kid life. The looming future didn’t haunt me, because, well, it wasn’t really that scary. I knew I was heading from one small nurturing bubble to another slightly bigger one.
Four years later, I’m not ready to leave my bubble. This bubble feels great. I don’t want to grow up. I don’t want to have a job. I really don’t want to be financially independent. But mostly, I don’t want to leave my friends. There, I said it. I’m not ready to be a real person.
Does wanting to live the college student life forever make me a deadbeat? Sure sounds like it. But, I don’t think my thought process differs much from even the most successful of my peers, whose dream jobs await them come May. I find it hard to believe that anyone would want to leave a place where they can wake up at noon and still succeed; where all of your friends live within a five-block radius; and, where you get four months off for summer vacation.
I know I’m in denial. In four weeks I have to move on. But for now, I’m going to savor my very comfortable college student lifestyle. Even as much as I complain about work and classes, I know that I’ve got it pretty good here.