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Being a Senior is ridiculously amazing. It's more so because it obviously wasn't very important in high school. I love more than just being at the top of the food chain: the opportunity to interact with some fantastic fellow students [student fed representative], faculty [senior class officers], and professors [dr victor david hanson, dr reist, etc]. I love being in the groove of leadership and responsibility. I have come to love this campus and my education so dearly; it's wonderful to understand a little better and give a little back. I'm reminded once again that my education is priceless and something far more important than the $100,000 piece of paper I'll be handed in May. I'm more involved and busy than ever, but I love it.
looking acrosss the front quad towards kendall [we've mostly had constant crazy storms, but managed to get in a couple of beautiful august days]
my other halves, hannah and christine [library constuction]
making history at the senior party: amy, emily, and christine [please note our amazing senior t-shirts]
partying like rock stars with my suitemate maria and my [american?] idol natalie. they sing opera and make everyone laugh with ridiculous stories
Packing is old hat. But I'm so tired of it. I actually started before 10 pm this time, but I think it's mostly because I am so terribly sick of it. It's just boring. I feel like just leaving all my clothes behind because I'm in an apathetic mood [not about life or most things, just packing].
Perhaps I'll be more philosphical about senior year on airport wireless tomorrow morning...Oh, wait, I forgot, senior year is all about apathy! I'm right on schedule.
Tonight, I breathe in my last breaths of Portland summer evening air and take in sights that I'll see next in the rain.
Graduation is nine months from today.
Milicent suggested the other day [on one of our many lovely excursions this summer. short time spans increase desperate meetings] that perhaps I just need something to catch my fancy and blog about it. Thus proceeding with eyes wide open [i just spelled it wyde. totally not right. i dyspyse excessive and improper "y for i" exchanges], I have found my occasion to speak. [to speak in font rather than sounds]
Yesterday evening, I retired my old blue Nalgene. I've been thinking about a Powell's Lit one for a long time [not copying you, mili, i swear] and since I'm embarrassed to say how old my blue Nalgene is, [i got it while i was working at bibo, though] I decided it was time for an upgrade.
We won't go into my strange affinity for objects [or rotating footwear so no shoes feel left out], but I felt kind of sad thinking about all the things Ol' Blue has gotten me through. Milicent gave me the Billabong sticker, the first one to lose its suedey feel and become a dirty grey blob, and Danielle sent me the big one when she competed in the Jr. Olympics. It had the logo on it at one time. It got me through my internship, road trips, and subsequent college classes in Hillsdale and Portland [spanish last summer]. It travelled full on planes to keep me hydrated, and now lies mournfully dry through airport screening due to new security regulations. Blue has spilled awkwardly down the front of a lot of my clothes and surprised me with strangely glacial rushes of ice.
But now, with stickers faded and so many scratches that it never actually feels clean [no matter how much soap i use or the frequency of application], I feel that it's time to retire. Blue had a good run. [it's strange that my constantly closest objects never get names?] So please, enjoy a moment of silence and raise your own Nalgenes everywhere to the old and the new.
With only a week left in my Portland summer time, expect frantic errands, as much time with people and away from computers as possible, and one melancholy "senior year packing" blog.
