About two weeks ago I received my grades for the final classes I would ever take as an undergraduate student. College, at least until I get sucked into grad school, is officially over. While I believed in my ability to finish, I guess I never really thought I’d see the day when I would. After all, maulings are on the rise.
In addition to double-majoring in Literature & Secondary Education, the last four (and a half) years saw me doing all sorts of wacky shit:
I wrote a novella.
I traveled around the country with my best friends.
I went to Orlando with Mrs. Krueger. Twice.
I worked at a coffee shop, afterschool program, emergency room, restaurant, day camp, resource center and a video store.
I scripted a comic book, found an artist to illustrate it, and then lost touch with the artist…twice.
I tried my hand at teaching and have realized that I enjoy it as a “for now” job, but hope to parlay my skills into the collegiate setting.
I finally started a blog with my brother.
Without reservation, I can state that I have changed more during my college years than any other period in my life. And knowing this, I planned my personal graduation celebration accordingly. For nearly two years, I’ve purposely refrained from watching my favorite movie of all time. As an avid-believer in the value of delayed gratification, I knew that waiting until I finished college to watch this flick would help recapture some of the magic that made me fall in love with it in the first place.
So tonight, I’m watching the theatrical cut of Star Wars and sipping on Sam Adams Utopias.
God damn, this feels good.