Senioritis has hit many of us hard. It’s difficult to continue caring about homework and exams when you’re steeling yourself for a Major Life Change.
The Southern Belle is leaving, heading back across the country for grad school.
The Commodore is leaving too, for Colorado and her own advanced degree.
The Engineer and I are staying here, in our little college town, until he graduates (yay, switching majors and having to go back and take a bunch of prerequisites), but this is only a year-long reprieve until we also leave, and a year suddenly seems very short.
Graduation is supposed to be the end, the part where nostalgic music plays as the credits roll and you are led to believe that everyone lives happily ever after, immediately and effortlessly finding themselves in the job they were always meant to do, meeting the right guy/girl. That’s how it’s marketed to us. College wants us to go out there and make it look good, so we’re supposed to focus on all the Magical Opportunities that await us as we start the Rest of Our Lives.
Except this isn’t necessarily the Rest of Our Lives. It’s just another stage.
The Southern Belle and I were talking about this, about moving and making decisions and planning ahead while knowing that any number of things could change those plans. She said it’s going to take courage. She said doesn’t know if she has that courage.
“I don’t think you have courage going into something,” I said. “I don’t think anyone honestly looks at the Big Scary Thing in front of them and consciously decides to flip some switch and just have courage. I think courage is finding yourself in the middle of it and going, ‘Well, fuck.’ And you just plow ahead anyway.”
We have 23 days left until graduation.