As of today, there are seven weeks left in my undergraduate University career. To say I am starting to panic is putting it mildly. I am freaking out capital F, double- underlined-large-open-circle dotting the “i.”
There is so much I haven’t done yet. As a mature* student I understand that there are many facets of university life I’ve had to forgo, most of them willingly. Not once has “Brittany” asked me to hold back her hair while she puked in her purse. I have never lived in a dorm, never attended a sleepover at Caitlin’s or Katelyn’s or Kaitlin’s, and never done anything I can excuse or qualify later under the umbrella dismissal clause of “but that was back in college.”
When “typical” students were painting their game faces with our school mascot (some kind of a flying chicken creature) and tacking up Bob Marley posters to cinderblock walls, I was reading Chaucer to my kids at night in lieu of bedtime stories and teaching them how to order take-out dinners online.
But I’ve got seven weeks left until it’s all over, and I’m determined to make the best of it.
Except now, as I’m writing this, the things on my list seem unlikely to happen. I don’t have a lot of time left, and there is actually some real school work that needs to be done. But I am on a mission! I am in control of my own destiny! I am steering this here boat, and I am headed for open water with no GPS and several bottles of cranberry vodka! So I propose to merely modify these goals, by utilizing resources at hand. I will not give up my goals, merely make them more attainable by lowering the standard slightly.
I anticipate problems only with #3. I’m probably taking my chances entering a house of God.
Am I missing anything?
*Mature in the chronological sense only.