This year at the University has had a bit of a different feel for me. I am entering my fourth year, forgive me for being sentimental, but I have a lot of feelings about it. Mostly, the “this is the beginning of the rest of my life, only with a year to prepare” elation.
But the initial excitement I feel is tinged a little gray with the sad realization that this is the last year I will have with the people I love in Charlottesville. Oh sure, we can visit, and some people won’t leave town, but it will never be the same as it is right now — just like in all of those graduation movies.
So I have become that fourth-year girl who notes all the first things I will be doing for the last time. Last Tuesday was my last first day of the fall semester. I have never cherished syllabus week quite so much. Nor have I ever been quite so dedicated to ensuring that I am absorbing every nuance of my syllabuses. Usually syllabus week is just an exercise in extra long blinks and reorganizing my planner. But because this was my last first day of class of my fourth year, I wanted to appreciate it. I pulled out highlighters and corresponding colored pens, noting due dates and highlighting important assignments.
As I went about my day-to-day activities, I felt a little twinge at the realization that this would be the last first time I did many things. It would be the last first time I began workouts, as I rushed over from my last class of the day to John Paul Jones Arena to start the second part of my day. It would be the last first time I ate in Newcomb Dining Hall, declared it inedible and returned everyday for the rest of the week because it was convenient. It would be the last first time I sat at Rotunda Sing with my teammates, wolf whistling at various members of a capella groups and lamenting our lack of singing talent.
But as I got caught up in all these feelings, I was starting to understand that maybe it was time to stop crying about these milestones and start appreciating them.
I’m not sure if it was a teammate slapping me and telling me to get it together as I unpacked at the beginning of the year or my own mother telling me to suck it up, but all this sadness was getting me nowhere. Sure, sometimes it feels good to wallow in nostalgia as you pass the first years heading to Convocation. But then you realize, hey I didn’t even go to Convocation, why am I actually sad about this again?
The school year has only just begun, and although this one definitely has a special place in my heart, I don’t want to be so busy trying to cherish it that I forget to live it — someone in a movie might have said that too. You can’t force memory making, and you certainly can’t make something special just because you want it to be. I’ve learned a lot of lessons at the University, about life, love and the best late night food to avoid a stomach ache in the morning, but I guess this is one I am still working on.
To all of the fourth years out there who are struggling a little with the last firsts of everything — and I acknowledge this may only be me — it’s going to be okay. Just don’t forget to take a lot of pictures.
Simone’s column runs biweekly Tuesdays. She can be reached at s.egwu@cavalierdaily.com.
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