May 27, 2008
It seems really strange writing a “last entry,” to be honest. In a way, I don’t know that it’s really sunk in yet. I know I’ve sat through graduation, and I’ve already walked across the stage and I have my piece of paper that says ‘I made it.’ I’ve already said my goodbyes to my grandparents and my friends and my professors, and I’ve returned the gown and packed up my apartment. I’ve had my last senior pub night, my last dinner with the seniors at Steve Vineberg’s house, and my last breakfast in the senior apartments. My stuff is everywhere—in my car, in the costume shop, in my parents’ basements— and after my weekend in Boston, my bank account is a little lighter. In a vague way, I’m thinking about money, and jobs, and my future, and I’m wondering when the next time I’ll see so-and-so is, and I’m wishing I had spent more time in a million different ways last weekend.
But no, honestly. No, it hasn’t really quite hit me yet that Mikaele is going to Spain and Nell to Taiwan and I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, or that even those who are only going so far as New York, DC, or Jersey are still much farther away than a walk to Caro Street or down an apartments hallway. It hasn’t settled in that the random people you smile at on your way out of Stein or the people you had class with freshman year—those people are going to live their lives and maybe I won’t see them again. And although I’m returning to HC for the summer, it will be as an alum, and not an undergrad, and I guess that’s a title that just takes some time to settle into.
Perhaps I’m the only one who feels like this—that transitioning out of college is perhaps almost as confusing and unsettling as transitioning into it. Maybe everyone else had their moment of accepting that their time here had come to an end well before I did, and I’m just alone in feeling a little turned around. But as one of six hundred and sixty-nine people who graduated on Friday, I would say that it’s probably safe to bet that I’m not alone here. That while the commencement ceremony was beautiful, it’s not the only memory of these four years that I’m going to take away with me. I would say it’s safe to bet that a lot of my classmates are already missing their college experiences and trying to figure out who they are now as alums of this college, and where they fit into the world now. But I would also say that with four years of questioning our identities—both inside the classroom and out of it—we’re leaving equipped with the tools to figure out where we belong after this.
I couldn’t leave this blog without posting pictures, obviously—so enjoy pictures of the girls at Baccalaureate Ball and then me with some professors at the reception after the ceremony. And I also couldn’t leave the blog without thanking the staff at Public Affairs for affording me the opportunity, especially Christian, Nick, and Ellen. And finally, I’d like to say hey to anybody who might be reading this. If you’re a prospective student, I can’t say for certain that Holy Cross is right for you—but I can tell you without a doubt that it was right for me. If you’re a member of the class of 2008, congratulations, and I hope to see you again soon. If you’re a professor, hey, Steve—dinner was fantastic last Monday night, and I really want your recipe for the pomegranate glaze on the chicken. And if you’re an alumnus, thanks for letting me into the club, and I can only hope your memories of your four years here are as great as mine.