Okay, deep breaths. Take another look at the SAPR. Is it still there? Yep, the horrible truth is confirmed: I am a senior.
I’ll spare everyone the “”where did the time go”” nonsense; we all know that time is relative, and when you’re killing brain cells at a college level, it’s extremely so. I’ll also skip over the “”what next”” chapter — mostly because I have no idea (given my art major, I’m thinking a two-year internship with homelessness). This article is actually about that doomed feeling you get when you’re a senior who has just become self-aware; a collegiate man suddenly put in line for the firing squad of real life.
When faced with such a monumental epiphany, we seniors have few options to cope. Those with excess money can utilize the “”self-sabotage”” plan, suddenly and inexplicably failing “”Intro to Counting,”” and thus buying a few more years on their parents’ dime. It is a clever maneuver, but is only a temporary solution.
Closely related to the “”self-sabotage”” is the nobler “”switch or add a major,”” which awards greater longevity and is generally less pathetic. This method can grant a completely new college career to a diligent student, basically the class credits version of an extra life in a Super Mario game.
Then there are those of us who have no more tricks up our sleeves, and who will be departing dear old UA soon.
As one of these doomed few, I can’t help but feel a twinge of panic at the thought. A few key questions keep occupying my brain space:
“”Do I have enough crazy college stories yet?””
“”Have I made enough intellectual headway to justify erasing it instantly every Thursday, Friday and Saturday (and Tuesday and Wednesday)?””
“”Will I ever form a lasting and life-changing relationship with a professor, like in the movies?””
My head is buzzing with questions, and the only way I see fit to silencing them is to do what every self-respecting senior should: Make a college bucket list, because life after school is death.
College is the place where you can do the smartest thing of your life in the morning (synthesize chemicals) and follow it up with the dumbest (ear shots) mere hours later. When all is said and done, that one story about the dominatrix at Spring Break will reign supreme over all of those Nobel Peace Awards you’ve won (slight stretch, stick with me). College is not over for us chosen few — it is just beginning.
As seniors, we are all extremely aware that a good essay is not written over a few carefully planned months, but on a frantic study-drug binge hours before it’s due. In the same way, we’ve all been procrastinating for our true college craziness, and with the due date in sight, it’s time to cut loose. Down that spiritual Adderall and get cracking. Look at your campus. Explore it. Find the most obscure club you can think of, join it, eat some of the free food and quit. Sign up for the Campus Dodgeball tournament (Dec. 4, 11 a.m.). If you haven’t been in Greek Life, join it. If you’re in it, quit.
I personally have had the strange pleasure of being both in a frat and then the Ultimate Frisbee team, effectively spanning the social spectrum of college and all the weird places in between. Top secret observations have revealed that, at a base level, every social group at the UA shares the joy of copious alcohol imbibing; there’s drunken diplomacy to be had here.
My personal bucket list is too numerous and too inappropriate to mention (Keenan and Kel hint: one zipline, five chickens, 600 boxes of Jell-O and two kegs of orange soda), but I urge everyone to get theirs in order. With any luck, the Mall will soon be full of streaking, out-of-control seniors, fulfilling their every hedonistic urge like their college life depends on it. When the collegiate legends are carved in stone, these are the moments that really matter. And that’s exactly what you can tell yourself over and over again when you’re handcuffed in the holding cell.
Go get ’em, seniors.
— Johnny McKay is a media arts senior. He can be reached at letters@wildcat.arizona.edu.
