Entering the home stretch
I am now beginning my last semester of undergraduate education. I am poised to complete my fourth trimester of incubation in the cozy womb of higher education. Soon I will be expelled into a cold, bright, loud world. There’s a good chance I will cry, or be spanked until I do, figuratively speaking of course. In the end, though, only good things can come of my emergence.
But unlike a baby who can look forward to being fed, watered, dressed and cleaned as often as necessary, I will be expected to take care of myself forthwith and henceforth. I’m nearly a full-fledged grown up. The adult life waits to welcome me with mature open arms. The future holds cocktail parties, decaf lattes and talk radio. My dual life as a fledgling adult and oversized child is about to culminate. I must choose one path or the other.
Sometime in April I promise I will write a column expounding all that I’ve learned and the tremendous growth that’s taken place since I left high school. For now let’s take a look at what I have to look forward to in forthcoming months.
By this spring I will be able to hold dazzling and erudite conversations about such topics as Russian foreign policy, the American criminal justice system and the finer points of racquetball. I sincerely hope that a life fraught with learning awaits after college, but I imagine I’ll have few opportunities to engage in such diverse and highly concentrated accumulation of knowledge. It would behoove me to make the most of this semester, then.
“Making the most” entails a multitude of very serious responsibilities. Reading, writing, discussing, librarying, yes. But education involves more than academia, as we all know.
This is my last chance to not feel like a creep for going to a sorority party. My last chance to attend my primary life occupation in pajamas (well, maybe) and not get fired. My last chance to remove all edible material from my fridge to make room for the beer (perhaps). I intend to study harder than I’ve ever studied and read more than I’ve ever read and sleep less in class than I’ve ever slept to make a grand exit. But I feel I need to balance the effort by making extra merry in my free time.
Post graduation plans. Right now I am in the process of applying to the Peace Corps. Maybe I should be looking at graduate school. Maybe I should assume my noble place as a cog in the great wheel and get a job. But for now the plan is to run off to the jungle to rock AIDS babies and eat dirt for two years. We’ll see how this pans out. Regular updates may of course be expected as events warrant.
I need to take advantage of my locale. There’s an outside chance that this may be the last time I live in Dallas and I need to go to the Sixth Floor Museum at least once.
I need to go to the wax museum and Six Flags and maybe that restaurant at the top of the ball building, though I hear it’s not that great. I need to see a Mavericks home game. Soon!
And oh the political and social shenanigans I will be obligated to comment upon! War looms, Bush stutters, North Korea cackles maniacally in the distance. It’s going to be a big season for global relations and culture wars. Trust yours truly to be on the spot letting everyone know what I think in no uncertain terms.
Finally and perhaps most importantly, Spring 2003 will be the semester of the vagina. Eve Ensler’s “Vagina Monologues” is returning to SMU in February, and I will be returning to the stage to do my part to help shed some light on that Bermuda triangle of human anatomy. Violence against women is a scary, scary thing, and it’s going to have to stop soon.
And so it begins.
