I always wanted to be head of the pack, cream of crop, bringing home the bacon, all that jazz. Being on top of the academic food chain, however, is not all that it's cracked up to be. Sooner or later people will forget who I am. I'll drift into the dust of college history.
I'm not trying to scare other younger, more innocent students, but don't move up the ladder. Let others boss you around, get turned down from bars occasionally and most importantly, let other students graduate.
A wise man once said, "Graduating college in four years is like leaving a party at 11:30." This wise man also procured a moon bounce for his birthday party. A moon bounce!
Unfortunately, I have made no such plans. This means come May I'll be walking down the Lawn, Purple Shadows and all. I don't have any regrets about what I did or didn't do, I just wish I had time to do more.
At a time like this I start to reflect on the legacy I'm going to leave. If I get desperate I could start doing things like spray painting my initials on the building formerly known as "Clark." I'm hoping that instead my wonderful social skills and super sweet fashion sense will live on through first years for years. Sadly though, usually I wear my ex-boyfriend's sweatpants and one of the 30 philanthropy T-shirts I have had to buy over the years. So the latter part is out.
What is interesting about our individual legacies is how they make up the larger and more visible legacy of the University as a whole. All alumni contribute or contributed to how we as students are viewed today.
Personally, I'm hoping for more of a Katie Couric legacy than an Aaron Grisdale legacy. See? You haven't even heard of Aaron Grisdale. (Even though he could sing a mean rendition of "A Whole New World" from "Aladdin.")
What this means is that I actually have to be a part of the real world. A world where sitting on the couch watching "Arrested Development" is not considered a productive day; a whole new world. I'm not sure I'm ready to be flying on the metaphorical carpet.
The other day I overheard two bright-eyed first years discussing their post-college plans. I giggled inside. I giggled inside while sitting in the 200-level course I am taking alongside them. Their plans were grandiose and quite definite. I wanted to turn around and tell them they don't have to plan, and they definitely didn't have to plan within my earshot.
This fourth-year freak-out has made me a bit more cynical. College does end. You don't know what you've got until it's gone. This may be a bit premature -- I do still have a good couple of months until I get kicked out of this wonderful little bubble. Eventually I might end up back in a scholastic setting for law school, but I doubt it will be quite the same atmosphere.
If I get really depressed, after defacing school property of course, I'll end up in my apartment drunk on wine and singing Tim McGraw's "Please Remember Me." After my roommates excommunicate me (unless I get them drunk too, which is a more likely scenario), who knows what I'll do to stop from leaving this place? I could even sink as low as grad school.
In the remaining months I have left you can bet I'll be taking full advantage of this college life. Mostly I'm going to try to think of some grand scheme for getting famous quick so no one forgets me. I might try to storm JMU on some sort of crusade, à la the Christians circa the first half of the last millennium. Hopefully, however, I won't have to resort to violence, and instead actually finish the novel I've been working on (Insert "Family Guy" quote here for those who religiously know the show) and end up on "Oprah" and "The Daily Show" to promote it. Hell, I'll even take the "Colbert Report."
That's what I've been reduced to -- fading into the background of my sorority's composite and studying for LSATs. What a world, what a world.
But I still have my friends here, I actually am 21 finally and I have three years of wonderful memories to look back on.
Especially when I'm drunk and singing country songs.
Clare's column runs biweekly on Mondays. She can be reached at ondrey@cavalierdaily.com.
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