By SARAH LEWIS, Editor-in-Chief
I have spent my life harboring a bad habit of avoiding surprise endings. I even read the last paragraph of any book before I read the first.
Clearly, I just don’t like surprises, which is probably why I’m teetering on the edge of insanity knowing how soon I’ll be throwing myself into this thing I’ve heard about called the “real world.” (And not the hit MTV show, that the great MJ alumnae Sahar Dika once graced).
As if I haven’t been thinking about this enough lately, I’ll say it again: I graduate this month. I wasn’t too keen on the idea of walking in the actual ceremony because I’m not the biggest fan of hullabaloo, but when I brought the idea up to my parents, I realized it was going to have to be all eyes on me for the five seconds my awkwardness graces the stage in the Fieldhouse. I’ll admit I’ve gotten a teensy bit excited about it since I’ve already bought a dress to wear underneath the heinous black graduation gown and decorated the cap to match my pink lace dress
I have so many people to thank for all the opportunities I’ve been given, all the support I’ve received, and the memories I have with so many people I’ve met here. I don’t want to list off names like a rambling Oscar recipient, but if you think you’re a person I would protect with a shovel in a zombie apocalypse, you’re someone I most likely want to thank for putting up with me in one way or another these past four years.
I’ve been writing this column for about three years, and it’s going to seem so strange that I won’t be asking you, assuming I have a couple readers, the weekly rhetorical question about my somewhat mundane life. I think this is what I’m going to miss most of all…venting about classroom creepers, pondering my future ambitions, and just simply sharing my thoughts with any of you out there who have been reading.
College sure has been something else, and my safe haven through most of it has been this newspaper and this column. So what’s a girl to do now? Because I think that Password Journals totally aren’t hip anymore.
I just feel like the answer is dramatically driving off into the sunset with my jeep’s sunroof open blasting Unwritten by Natasha Bedingfield. A little bit too reminiscent from The Hills? Hey, I always thought my life was worthy of some kind of MTV reality show.
Goodbye. Is this real life?