I don't know if you've heard or not, but apparently the world is ending soon. I suppose I should be more upset about this but I have to admit, I saw the signs. I mean literally saw them. It just so happens that on May 21 this year, I was driving back to Virginia with a car full of faithful Cav Daily beach-week-goers. As we cruised down I-95 reminiscing about a week's worth of new inside jokes, our view of the usual scenic fast food ads was broken every few miles by giant billboards proclaiming our eminent doom. Now in a less stoic bunch, this may have been cause for concern, but we newspaper people know how to keep a cool head, or at least a snarky attitude - insert shameless plug to join The Cavalier Daily here. So Harold Camping's repeated road side warnings that we only had a few hours before our fiery demise probably did not have the sobering effect on us that he intended them to have. I mean yes, at two minutes to 6:00 p.m. - the supposed arrival time of the rapture - we did make sure that there was a good song on the radio, just in case. No one wanted to risk going out of this world on Ke$ha.
As you have probably guessed since the sun is still orbiting the Earth and I am not writing this column to you from any alternate reality that I am aware of, we survived the rapturous car trip. But Harold Camping is not the only one predicting the end of life as we know it. During the last few years there have been a plethora of third rate movies and History Channel specials reminding us that the Mayans were quite sure the apocalypse was arriving in 2012, and they don't seem to be the type to call a rain check and reschedule for October.
And yet I still have not procured a bunker anywhere in which to start stockpiling supplies. This is for two reasons: In part because I think people who do that are confusing the meaning of apocalypse with nuclear fallout - both terrifying in their own right, but canned goods and bottled water are unlikely to be much help if the entire Earth goes kaput. The second reason is because if I'm going to go out, I want to go out with a bang.
Whether or not I believe the Mayans - which for the record I'm on the fence, mostly the side of the fence in favor of logic and not believing ancient prophecies - 2012 does represent a somewhat apocalyptic calamity for me: graduation.
That's right. This is it, my last year of college. The arrival of the real life doomsday is creeping ever closer. For a while I was prepared to wallow in this fact. This summer I frantically compiled my fourth-year bucket list with all the things I need to do before I graduate. On Move-In Day I indulged in unparalleled amounts of first-year envy. I commiserated with nearly every fourth year I saw at Wertland Block Party about how I couldn't believe this was our last year, and wasn't I just moving into Old Dorms yesterday? Then, in the wee hours of Sunday morning, sometime between belting out the first and last verses of "Don't Stop Believing" with my friends, I had an epiphany: all the time I spent wallowing was time that I could have been enjoying myself.
I admit this isn't exactly an original epiphany, but it was an important realization for me nevertheless. This is my last year of college and I am going to live it up. Not by stressing over a regimented checklist of all the things I need to do before May, but just by enjoying myself as much as possible. I plan to soak it all in before world-altering change arrives, and on the upside, if I'm wrong and the Earth really does implode next year, at least I won't have to look for a real job!
Katie's column runs weekly Tuesdays. She can be reached at k.mcnally@cavalierdaily.com.
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