This winter break means a lot of things. As per usual, for me it means going home to Florida to warmth that I once shunned but now gladly embrace. It means the bittersweetness of seeing a group of old friends that, no matter how long we go without so much as an email, brings me back to high school's fabulous cluelessness the second we see each other. It means sleeping more than five hours a night. And most importantly, for all of us seniors, it means one final month of pure, unadulterated freedom - possibly our last until retirement.
Melodrama? Sure. But it's true. This Winter Break means a whole month to sit back and do nothing but reflect on the fact that next year we're going to be thrust into new worlds. It's a tumultuous time of assessment and decision. Either we're in the middle of applying for graduate school/law school/medical school/what have you, applying for jobs, applying for the Peace Corps/AmeriCorps, thinking about applying for jobs, or fielding questions from everyone in the free world regarding our future application plans.
This curious inquisition process is a funny thing to watch - by this point, we've learned to smell the question coming. Usually right after:
"So you're graduating this year, right?"
"Yeah," you answer. Silence. Then there's the intake of air, the searching glance, and another pause. Then they go in for the kill. At this point in the game, people have begun to ask apologetically, even shyly, knowing the absolute loathing with which we will greet their question:
"So..." (a pause, they look reluctantly into your eyes) "Do you know what you're doing next year?" (the inquirer then makes a grimace implying that he's been forced to ask you but honestly feels awful about it).
And so even those who trick themselves into thinking next year is no big deal at all have the mental strain of dealing with such inquiring minds.
Not all of the curious are all that inspiring, either. Telling people you're an English major is definitely a humbling experience. You get the typical, "Oh, so you want to teach, right?" assumptions, to which you must explain that no, actually, you want to go into writing, or publishing, or journalism, or law, or anything else you possibly want to do with your liberal arts degree, because you can. You get your smug grins from the science-y/engineering crowd, with the "I'm glad I'm not you" eyebrow raise. Listen, just say it. "You want to be broke the rest of your life," you ask?
And to you all, I say - Absolutely and gladly, to be happy.
I have no doubts that this will happen, but I still can't help but want to fend off the future. Because damn it, I'm happy now. Life is static now, in a comfortable, homey, fulfilling sort of way, and it's pretty close to perfect.
Here we are in this bubble world, a playland for pre-adults where we live truly privileged lives of minimal responsibility. For four years, we've had the comforts of convenience, education, and opportunities to experience intellects and talents that we'll never have again.
Even though it's gone by lightning-quick, it's time to move on once again. But this one is the move. Comfort will soon be yanked out from under us, and we have one last semester to revel in it. Comfort, however, can be attained anywhere. When times they are a-changin', it's time to look toward the things that don't change, and don't go away, no matter how uncertain everything else is.
So here's to some constants - my personal constants. The ones that have stayed with me, and will continue to do so whether I'm editing children's books, or freelance writing stories about rainforests. Here's to the ridiculous little things that make me happy when things just won't calm down, things that don't have to do anything but stay there and be themselves.
Here's to hair band music, perfectly crafted mix tapes, the Counting Crows, Reality Bites, being a Mets fan, Penang in Chinatown, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, VHS tapes (damn the man), My So-Called Life (wherever you are), Black & Blues/Pluto in Davis Square, Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah," imdb.com, Douglas Coupland, live concerts, Blue Shirt Cafe, playing skee-ball at Good Time Emporium, piano music, jukeboxes in bars, Guns n' Roses, and Cameron Crowe movies.
And here's to some Tufts constants that will stay with me as life becomes ridiculously unstatic, starting on May 19:
Metcalf '98/'99 (the best ever introduction to college); School and Society; the co-op in Houston Hall (yes, there is a co-op - look into it); Hodgdon Dining Hall; the times when Brown and Brew has good sandwiches; Campus Center honey mustard; my creative writing professors for giving me something to be proud of and a new passion; the Daily Arts department - a legendary fivesome and family, filled to the brim with "coolness," we rocked it this semester; and wiffle ball on the Residential Quad.
It's the artsy things that make it all bearable sometimes, and it's the memories that will make the transition a little less disconcerting. Have a good Winter Break, everyone, and if anyone asks you what you're doing next year, I give you permission to proudly say "I don't know."
