It’s Sunday night, and it’s 10:28pm. I’m writing to you when, instead, I should be finishing the two essays I have due in for tomorrow.
What better time to start this blog, which is all about being a graduating senior. I’ve been making the joke a lot that, by writing this blog next year, an entire student body will be able to keep up with my homelessness. It’s kind of like signing up for one of those “life-alert” emergency buttons for the elderly, only instead of pushing the button, I’ll blog. And someone will clearly come to save me.
I fully recognise that The Saint cannot be held responsible for my well-being and that any and all persons are under no obligation to ensure that I don’t starve. I’m just relying on your consciences.
I’M SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING TWO ESSAYS.
So, what is it like to be a graduating senior? To be honest, it is really weird. I’m sure the experience is different for everyone, but it seems to have sent me spiraling into some sort of mid-life crisis (clearly I will die around forty). Every conversation I have with an adult inevitably leads to them asking me what I’m going to do after graduation, if I’m heading back to the States, do I feel ready to leave school. Every time I speak to my parents they regurgitate some variation of the following statement: “Well, I’m just so proud of you. You’ve done really well. You know not everyone could go to university and manage to complete it, despite the fact that clearly thousands of people do this every 3 – 4 years and we’re excessively commending you on what you may or may not know to be a weird if not mediocre achievement at best.”
And that’s not all. God, it feels good to have somehow broken into this zone of not having the only thing you and your other graduating friends talk about being…graduating. Some combination of denial and preoccupation with impending and yet trivialised deadlines has replaced that.
So there you go. I remember what it was like to be in first and second year, vaguely. In my mind, it’s roughly the equivalent of playing with my best friend on the see-saw in bright sunshine. I also remember last year, which was similar to this year only I felt I had purpose. I can completely sympathize with my third year friends right now who are applying themselves so vigorously to their work, and are so stressed. So justifiably stressed! They still have to struggle! They know how much this year means! They could still get a First!
I probably can’t. I also probably can’t get a 2:2. I’m pretty much golden.
I may come off sounding like the biggest ass here, but it’s now 10:37pm and I still haven’t polished these essays (God I hope this blog is anonymous, or that my professors care as little for their students’ “lives” as I hope they do), and that’s just not like me. It’s never been me. But in my experience, University was like a slow roll away from academics towards…I don’t know, life? I want to be a writer (so many cruel comments, so little time), I want to read, and run all over the planet. All I can see right now is that world beyond. And I don’t know what I’m doing. I know that I really ought to buck up and ensure I have a stellar post-graduation plan. I’ve applied for a publishing course in New York, I’ve set up work placements in London, and…other stuff.
I’m trying not to give into the apathy of this semester, I really don’t want to act, or not act, on this blasé feeling and screw myself over, so that I slap myself like a disrespectful child in the supermarket. But I am used to going with how I feel. And right now I feel like, after graduation, after I chuck in these last essays and somehow manage to pull myself across the finish line of exams, I just want to live. And that means going somewhere, anywhere, that I find inspiring. Getting a job, probably at a bar (It’s what I do best. Master Bartender of Scotland, right here.). And screwing up more things than I ever could have imagined.
And there’s something kind of exciting in screwing up in ways you haven’t already imagined.
It’s now 10:44pm, and I will go on to finish these essays. I’ll do the footnotes, the bibliographies, and the double spacing. I will consult the English Style Guidelines as I have pathetically had to do with as much confusion and double-checking for the past four years. And when they’re in, I may have entered a new phase, equally weird. That’s what Senior Year is all about.
I hope you’re looking forward to it.
Follow the post-university adventures of Randy Jane and co. by visiting http://www.thesaint-online.com and clicking on ‘Blogs’.