Every last entry to this blog I could think of was always too much of something. Too sentimental, too formal, too final, too cliché. So I decided to take a cue from my favorite magazine Esquire (I guess somewhere within me there is a graying, sophisticated and knowledgeable man whose salary places in the upper middle to upper income bracket, according to what Esquire’s media kit says is their target demographic).
I went through several “What I’ve Learned” articles, took the bolded phrases and asked Jon Fortenbury, a coworker, to interview me using the bolded phrases as prompts. What follows is some advice, some thoughts, and some personal stories. I hope it says what I intended it to: Thank you and goodbye for now. I’ll see you again.
I am ill prepared for this. While many decried the arrival of finals, I took comfort in it as a familiarity. I’m familiar with being over-the-top busy and having my nose buried in books, papers and portfolios. I may be swallowing my words soon enough, when I realize how great it will be to finally have the burden of college off my shoulders and when the lack of sleep and the flood of work finally get to me.
But there’s a certain sentimentality that’s holding me back from just saying, “I’m so glad to be rid of this place!”
I recently bought my cap and gown, afraid that the bookstore would run out of my size and height. Then I realized I am 5’3” and that I am not so much the average height as I am just short.
It was underwhelming, to say the least, in comparison to the other purchases I’ve chronicled here, like buying the plane ticket to Dublin and paying for the application to graduate.
Still, I’ve been very excited for commencement, seeing my friends and colleagues graduate and getting to cheer for them and hearing people cheer for me (I am hungry for recognition). So when what I thought would be an interesting experience turned out to be just like buying a $30 notebook, I started getting worried. Will the four-hour commencement be as anticlimactic as I’ve once been told it will be? It might be. It might not.
But just in case, I’ve come up with a number of scenarios that will make the commencement exciting for me, and possibly dangerous for others.
Two Saturday’s ago, the weather heralded spring, or the closest thing to spring that Reno may experience before relapsing into winter again or plunging into summer.
It was a balmy 70 degrees, the breeze was invigorating, the sun shone and the wispy clouds hovered high above. It was a beautiful day. It was time to get out and make the most of the weather before it disappeared.
Seven weeks in and I’m already starting to lose what little motivation I had at the beginning of the term. With good reason: it’s midterm season. It’s that time of the semester when the workload gets bigger, the teachers get stricter and everyone is all around grumpier.
Weird, subtle allusions to time and responsibility have been popping up these past few days. I was helping a writer with her story in the Insight office on Tuesday and she asked me, quite plainly, a question I used to wonder about (and often still do) but never got enough guts to ask anyone: “How do you find the time? How do you balance school and work and magazine writing?” Taken aback, I sat silent and gaped at her.
“Umm. I don’t know.”
I applied for graduation Tuesday night. With my debit card in my hand and a deep breath, I entered and checked and rechecked all the information. Is my name Guia Del Prado? Yes. Do I have a major in English with an emphasis on writing? Yes. Is my minor in Journalism? Yes. After keying in the billing information, I submitted my application.
