I’ve been really into numbers lately, because they seem to have a much larger impact on my life than usual, and it’s not because I changed my major to statistics. As if.
Call me sentimental but, at 1 p.m. today, I start my first class at San Diego State as a senior.
After 4 p.m., I only have 337 days left until I graduate and that’s only if I’m counting weekends and holidays.
To put that into perspective, that’s not even a year away.
In reality, I only have 262 days left on this campus until I graduate from the place I call home.
In only 262 days I will walk across the stage in Viejas Arena and start a new chapter of my life.
And to be honest, I have no idea how I got to this point in my life but the reality of graduating and getting a “real job” is setting in because I don’t know if I’m ready to leave this part of my life behind.
I guess that’s all a part of being considered an adult, but I’m not entirely sure if I’m ready for the burden of “adult-ing” all the time.
Adults can still eat ice cream at 2 a.m. right?
I’ve been a student here for three years, but at the beginning of every new semester I wonder where time has gone and if I can possibly get any of it back to make different choices.
I’ve collected so many memories here.
Sometimes it feels like everything has started over, I’m 18 years old again and everything is new.
Sometimes it feels like I’m a freshman again and my parents are dropping me off and my mom is trying absurdly hard not to cry.
It feels like my roommate and I have just moved into our enormously small dorm room.
It feels like I’m an hour late to my first final as a college student.
It feels like I just met my current roommate, at the dining hall at Cuicacalli.
It feels like I’m at my first basketball game, trying to learn the cheers. And it feels like I just wrote my first article for The Daily Aztec.
Then sometimes it feels like I’m a sophomore and I’m finally moving out of the dorms, which I was never quite fond of to begin with.
It feels like I just moved into my first apartment and its 98 degrees outside. It feels like I’m working my first “real” internship outside of school.
It feels like I just changed my major emphasis to public relations.
It feels like I’m never going to pass the Grammar, Spelling and Punctuation exam.
It feels like I’m finally finished with my foreign language requirement.
And it feels like I finally found my niche with an extremely awesome group of writers and editors in a dark, windowless basement.
Then suddenly, I’m a junior and I moved into an off-campus house with five other women a mile away from campus.
It feels like I’m seeing that ugly yellow wall in our kitchen for the first time.
It feels like I’m finally finished with my general education courses.
It feels like I was finally accepted into my major.
It feels like I’ve stayed up all night finishing a project that I’ve been working on for an entire semester with a group of nine other women.
And it feels like suddenly, after what felt like forever, I’m the arts and culture editor.
But, I’m no longer 18. It’s unfortunate that I can’t travel back in time.
I can’t relive those memories and I can’t rewrite my mistakes, although it would be nice.
The best I can do now is move forward toward my inevitable graduation date, and take the wonderful (and horrible) memories I’ve collected with me when I finally do leave this school for the last time.
Although my time as a college student is almost over, it’s almost comforting to know that I still have 262 days to make more memories, and probably some mistakes because I’m not ready to say goodbye.
Hopefully I’ll be ready for the next chapter of my life, and not begging for a job on the streets of downtown San Diego.