perpetuating purgatory

I can't go on. I'll go on.
-Samuel Beckett

I'm counting down the days until my I can successfully add a completed B.A. to my resume. Only a couple more months of Smith College and I'll be out the door. I know these are my last moments here and, indeed, the last moments of a very concrete, very defined portion of my life. Soon, eating stolen pancakes on my bedroom floor with my bare hands will no longer be the norm and I'll be forced to keep a much more socially productive schedule. I'll need to stay awake for more than six hours at a time and I'll need to adjust my diet away from starch and caffeine. I feel almost like a terminally ill patient, as awful as that sounds, who has just been given a few months to live. I am seeing what I've learned to take for granted here. I'm starting to realize that my core group of friends will soon be dispersed all over the world. While I'm tentative to leave behind the place that I've come to call home, I'm also looking forward to the prospect of a time when alpha sigma sigma is running this joint (the world, that is). Indeed, this big earth has felt a bit smaller lately-- I think of all the places I and my friends have been to recently, the things we've accomplished, and what we've made of ourselves in such a short span of time, and I start to regain a little bit of faith in humanity. As long as Julia is saving Peruvian orphans, Jess is running the Met., Mareva is entertaining millions with her music, and Julia Baker has found the cure to the common cold, all will be right in the world. Having such amazing, talented, and brilliant friends makes life a little bit more worthwhile and unpredictable.

It's odd, however, how 'predictable' life has become here. I don't necessarily mean it in a bad way-- it's just that Smith gives students no room for any kind of typical college social life. The lovely ladies of Park Annex have, of late, been joking about how habitual and geriatric our lives have become. I often feel as though I'm in some sort of rest home. I mean, when it's cold out, none of us want to leave the house and instead complain about the hundred yards we have to walk to get dinner. We have a grand piano that is often subject to renditions of classical pieces one might hear on NPR. I'm pretty sure that if we had wheel chairs, no one would bother walking. People cringe at the idea of having to walk up two flights of stairs to get something. Friday nights have become a time for sitting around the fireplace in squishy armchairs discussing literature, the presidential race, or gossiping about professors. The other night, Julia Baker brought me a blanket and tucked me in as I curled up on an ottoman to read some Evelyn Waugh. Teacups and newspapers are sprawled haphazardly on our coffee tables along with reading glasses. Rarely do any of us go to bed after midnight, even on a weekend. When young firsties pass the house drunk at three in the morning, we're more inclined to roll our eyes or bark at them to shut up than to join in. Sure, we might have a glass of wine once in a while, but it's more in the ' a glass of red wine will help me sleep better' sense than in the old 'let's get drunk and steal things' mode of the 'old days', as Ali and I say, when we had only recently turned 21 and spending a significant portion of our bank accounts on alcohol was more acceptable. I wouldn't change this for anything. I love the excitement that surrounds the simple act of having dinner together or sharing a pot of coffee. I'd rather this than eternal beerpong tournaments any day. I complain about it, of course, but at least I can get my work done and I'll leave here with more brain cells intact.

So, right now I'm kind of in the middle of two places. I'm almost done with school, with one foot out the door into the "real" world. (But what even quantifies "real"? I'm willing to create and substitute my own reality for anything I find less than satisfactory.) Come January, I'll throw out some lines and see what I can get. Whether it be a job, an opportunity to travel, or even an opportunity to relax, I'm glad I've taken my focus off law school. I need to see some things for myself before I descend back into the world of academia. And it seems that this is indeed the time to do it.


As I type this, there is a fairly drunk young lady screaming bloody murder somewhere outside my window. She must not have taken a class with Doug Patey yet.