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 remember first coming to this University and thinking how big it is and then realizing how little it actually is, and how much bigger other campuses are. But I’m still lazy about riding the shuttle instead of walking, even if I know it’ll take longer.

Smaller details can vary with importance to the bigger details, depending what details they are. Including smaller details: remembering to brush your teeth before an interview or brushing your teeth when you go to work. It would be more important if you were going to an interview than brushing your teeth before you go to work. Because you can go to work and not talk to anyone.

You can’t expect professors to be timely with your stuff, in terms of grading it and returning it to you, even though they ask you to turn in your stuff on time.

My momma emailed me one time, after my high school graduation. And she said “I’m so proud of you,” and it was the first time she had ever said it. She said again it last night. She’s said it more often since I graduated from high school. And I think it might have something to do with what I was like in high school.

No comment on what I was like in high school.

You don’t have to go to every single class even though they make you think so. You can miss up at least to three or four, is what I think you can miss. And still get an A. But once you get up to four you’ve got a B for sure. I’ve learned to find out how many classes I can miss, and I miss the maximum limit without getting a bad grade.

I’ve never felt like I really deserved an A in some classes. Sometimes I get A’s in classes and I just don’t feel like I deserve them. Like their grading standards are too low, but I don’t want to say anything because then that would mean I would have to work harder, or they’ll take away my A. On a weird level, sometimes I think I deserve it and sometimes I don’t.

Nevada is weird. Nevada is a place of extremes. Just because you’ve got Las Vegas, which is a ton of people, and just really empty, rural places, everywhere else. Like Ely, and Fallon and all those places that I’ve never actually been to but sound small to me. Is it Battle Mountain that’s pretty small? It’s like way east too. And Reno, I think, is just in the middle.

The littlest big city or the biggest little city. Or the most medium city of all. I think if I were the PR person for Reno and I was in charge of coming up with that, my slogan would be the “Most Medium-sized city of Every City in the World.”

If I could fly it would make it so much easier to get to school. In ten minutes as opposed to 30 minutes. Because I live out in Sparks and it’s a 30 minute drive.

You can’t quantify stereotypes.

I’ve already passed age 21. Once you get past 21 there’s no important number anymore. Except 25 because then you can rent cars. Jon:You can rent cars now, it’s just that you have to pay extra. Really? What a fact.

Once you get past graduation everything is terrifying. There’s no school anymore. It’s like when am I going to use my brain again, ever? You can go back into school but then it’ll just cost money, and that’s terrifying too, there are no scholarships or money from the government to get you by.

There are many lessons to be had when you’re past the five drink limit. You just have to remember them.

Mistakes happen when you can’t remember the lessons you were supposed to learn the weekend before, after you’ve had your five drink limit.

I can’t be certain that whatever I tell people I’m going to do after I graduate is going to happen. Which sucks, because everybody’s question right now is “Oooh, what are you going to do now? Where are you going to go?” And I’m like I don’t know. I have plans but I don’t know if they’re going to happen or not. Or if I’m going to have the money to do it. I just don’t know.

The world keeps going no matter what you decide to do, and that’s why you have to try and make a name for yourself because no one’s going to remember you otherwise. And that’s the most depressing lesson of all. Tears.

At some point I’m just going to say “Eff it.” and I’m just going to go open a hotel chain in the Maldives, or steal one, or buy one and just live the rest of my life by the ocean, drinking beer and pseudo-managing my hotel. That’s my plan.

My last words will most likely be a combination of prayers, thanksgivings, and a whole bunch of expletives.

But there’s a certain sentimentality that’s holding me back from just saying, “I’m so glad to be rid of this place!”

Yes, I’m admitting it. I really like UNR. In fact, I may really love it. As eager as I am to leave Reno and experience new places, the University has been good to me. The more people I meet and the more things I learn about this vast and complicated institution, the more I understand that. If you knew me before I was in college, when I liked to think of myself as a self-obligatory, disloyal, rebellious little island, this will come as a surprise to you. Back then I had no sense of pride in home and work. I didn’t really care. I wanted to get what was mine and get the hell out.

But about a couple years ago, I found a job at the University, working for who was back then a stranger deciding to take a chance on what I had to offer, and who is now, I can safely say, my mentor (despite the fact that he is just a few years older and has less jowls I had imagined my mentor to have).

Without that opportunity, I wouldn’t have developed a sense of pride. I wouldn’t have understood what it is about this University makes it so freakin’ awesome.

From the enterprising, caring students, to the many doors and opportunities accessible to students and faculty, to the unique, talented faculty and staff, who, whether they know it or not, influenced me in our short 30 minute interviews.

I just want to say

To the remarkable people I work with who let me come in and out at any hour as long as the building was open, who spoiled me and encouraged me, who were willing to pause in the middle of their busy work schedules to talk and answer my silly questions.

To my colleagues at Insight who patiently taught me InDesign even  at 10 pm at the height of their delirium, who taught me what it meant to be passionate about quality journalism, who welcomed me to the team and immediately trusted my leadership and editing skills.

To the professors who were patient with me and were willing to give me those knowing “I-know-you-can-do-better” looks.

To anyone who made me feel welcome here and to the government for giving me an inordinate amount of money so I could go to school without financial worries.

Without you, my experience here would not have been half as enjoyable or fruitful as it was. Thank you thank you thank you. A thousand times thank you.

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.

The Final Fantasy Scenario:

When I step up on stage and President Milton Glick shakes my hand, the Final Fantasy battle fanfare plays. As the rest of the music plays a series of numbers scroll above my head: -2 HP, +4 Intelligence, +5 Skill, -20,000 gil.

The Final Countdown Scenario:  (There’s a lot of finality going on here. I hadn’t intended on that.)

When my name is called, I come crashing through the platform in a platinum chariot pulled by a white tiger and a horse with a mane of fire. 

I seriously searched fire horse on Google images and this is what came up. There is apparently a lot of conceptual art on this.

As I reach for President Glick’s hand, the singer of Europe Joey Tempest sings down from 80’s heaven “It’s the final countdown!” like it’s nobody’s business. The main melody plays as I ride away again, popping a chariot wheelie into faux fog (anybody willing to volunteer to man a fog machine?).

The Freeze Scenario:

Instead of shaking President Glick’s hand on the stage, the students enter into a breakdance-off with him to several orchestral renditions of songs by T-Pain and Michael Jackson, including my two favorite songs Freeze and Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough.

There will be four hours of this.

Over Friday and Saturday, we looked at train timetables, estimated costs for our 43-day stay, estimated costs of travel expenses including the Global Eurail Pass at about $1000.

And we bickered. About cities, about costs, about the amount of days we wanted to spend in London versus the days we wanted to spend in Edinburgh. We bickered about the true worth of the experience versus the money we were sacrificing, money that could be used for going to New York. By Sunday evening, tired of arguing and wanting something more concrete to fight about, we bought our one-way, non-refundable $300 plane tickets to Dublin, Ireland for Monday, Sep. 1.

At 11 pm, Mike and I reviewed the details of the flight on my laptop. We picked out our seats and carefully entered the credit card numbers. Finally, with a shaking finger and the giddiness slithering up and down my GI tract, I pressed the purchase button. After printing out the itinerary and checking my email for a receipt, it was done.

How easy it is to leave the country like this and how simultaneously difficult. With a click of a button the trip was finalized and the arguments we had about going or not going evaporated. With a click of a button I developed a new obsession.

Now everything I think about is in preparation for the trip. Never mind that these next two weeks are going to be hectic with final designs for the last issue of Insight, the last stories I may write for Digital Initiatives, and final projects and tests. Never mind that I have the entire summer to plan it. For the past few hours I’ve been at work, I’ve already visited three different backpacking websites and looked at the Patagonia website to scan the prices for travel clothing.

I still have issues with the costs, as well as the still unknown logistics of our trip (I’m not much of a fan of surprises, pleasant or otherwise). But if feels nice to be certain that we’re going, whether we spend just a week in Dublin or stay the entire time.

I feel like I can breathe. And I think I know what it is: it’s the sense of freedom that only international travel can give.

To which I said, “Holy neurons! What day is it?

Between writing for Insight, editing and managing for Insight, writing for classes, writing other stories for Nevada News, the filled schedule of interviews, other homework, house sitting and dog sitting three dogs for Mike’s family last week, I haven’t found the time to orient my thoughts and put them on paper. Or even orient them and speak coherently. By last Friday, all verbal communication had been reduced to grunts and other various noises such as “blargh” and “mleh.”

Even now, trying to command a comprehensible stream of words and knowing in thirty minutes, I have to write another critique which is due in an hour is really distracting.

Where is this going, really? I have no freaking clue. Welcome to the mind of a college student four weeks away from graduating. The mind has coagulated into a sticky taffy, comprised of all the classes, lessons, homework, articles, people, extracurricular interests and work that had until now, remained in separate categories. I now talk about film music in my Japanese class and about the intricacies of the successful query letter to my cat.

Where does that leave you, the reader, who may or may have not come here for advice? Where does that leave me? I don’t know. I am lost somewhere in the weeks that have passed and the weeks that are still on the way.

But one piece of advice, keep a look out for the warning signs of overdoing it.

1. Are you so tired, you slur your speech or stop midsentence?
2. Are you doing silly forgetful things like turning in the wrong homework to the wrong classes or locking your house with your car keys and locking your car with your house keys?
3. Are you sleeping an average of two to three hours an evening?
4. Does summer break seem impossible?
5. Are you feeling fatigued and feverish almost every day?
6. Are you getting sick more often than not?
7. Do you often find yourself asking, “When will it ever end?” while falling to your knees and raising your fists Willem Dafoe a la Platoon?

If you have any of the above symptoms, do this:

On your next free day or next free few hours, turn off your phone, grab a favorite beverage, get comfortable and watch your favorite movie, something you’ve seen before, something you know well, something that makes you laugh. Then, fall asleep.

Or if you’re the outdoorsy type, turn off your phone, grab a favorite beverage, hike to a quiet, shaded spot, apply suntan lotion, stare at the clouds, think inspirational, happy thoughts. Then, fall asleep.

It works, trust me. I’m planning on doing the same exact thing the next time I get a chance, which should come up in about four weeks.

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.

Despite my desire to leave the house in a hurry, Mike and I ended up playing a few rounds of Resident Evil 5, eating leftovers, and getting ready in an incredibly slow pace. By the time we left the house, it was about 3:30 in the afternoon. And by then, as I had predicted, the winds picked up. We improvised.

“Let’s fly kites,” I said as we drove into northwest Reno.

So we stopped at a SaveMart off the interstate, bought two $1.33 kites, and bought a few refreshments at a drive through Starbucks. We decided to try our hand at kite flying at the Rancho San Rafael Regional Park, off north Virginia St. and McCarran Blvd, just a few steps away from the University campus.

Let me warn you now: the results of the kite-flying experience were not pretty. Previous attempts at kite flying were met with disaster, more or less.

Pictured: disaster

And the same was true of this latest attempt. Only Rancho San Rafael Park is a hot spot when it comes to kite flying and last time it was just the two of us in a deserted park. Attempting to fly a kite was doubly embarrassing, as more experienced kite pilots sent their huge, colorful kites soaring across the sky. Across from us, a child and his parents sat comfortably on the ground as their blue and white kite floated effortlessly.

Showoff.

While Mike and I strained our arms, jumped and ran in our comical attempts to get our kite to lift off and stay in the air. With a frappuccino in one hand and a flimsy kite in the other, and Mike at the end of the line, we attracted a few stares. Every time the kite lifted violently into the air, it would come spinning and winding down again in just a few seconds. For the hour or so that we were there, we may have succeeded in about 20 seconds of air time.

We were, however, successful in short range kite flying, picture below. Short range kite flying, invented by yours truly, is a technique wherein the kite flyer holds the kite at short distance, allowing about three inches of string. As the cheap kite flies and whirls about violently in the gusts of wind, the kite flyer must hold onto the straining kite without losing an eye, allowing the kite to break apart, or cutting him/herself with the string.

A demonstration of short range kite flying.

“It’s probably too windy,” Mike said, as we walked dejectedly past the rainbow kite flier. “And our kite is really cheap.”

“Right,” I said. “It’s the wind and the kite.” I tried to justify our kite flying losses. “Hold on, I want to take a picture.”

Mike paused and held the kite in the air as if we had won something. And though we rarely do, I like to think we had.

The Symptoms:

• Increased indifference: knowingly turning in a project two days late without any regard as to how many points would be docked because of the late entry. I’d usually be ashamed myself for letting that happen, but now, I just don’t care.
• Decreased attendance of class and work: I spent most of yesterday early morning working on the aforementioned project. I finished at 6 am. I could have slept for three hours, a previously sufficient amount, and still made it to class at 10. Instead I awoke at 1 p.m., in time to realize I  couldn’t go to my 1 p.m. class and that I hadn’t written the rough draft of my essay. I briefly acknowledged this, and went back to sleep until about two.
• Slight megalomania: “You got an A on your biology midterm? That’s nice. I’m backpacking through Europe for two months and taking over New York after I graduate this May.” Pause for applause. “Aren’t I fantastic?!”
• Increased Length of Procrastination: I’m usually good at making time to procrastinate before doing my homework. Usually about one hour of browsing the internet, eating, or watching TV had been enough. Now the length of procrastination has increased from three hours to a whole day, often resulting in the homework not getting done at all.
• Increased rage at cold weather: Though not directly related, I’ve found a correlation between warm weather and senioritis. Warm weather = summer is coming = this semester is almost done. Cold weather = winter = where the heck is summer = is this semester ever going to be over?!

Each workweek and major assignment is getting more and more troublesome than the one before it. Though I’ve been counting down the weeks until graduation since the beginning of the spring semester, it feels like the real countdown has just truly begun.

He didn’t hear me, or pretended not to (he does this).

The illumination of the fleeting epiphany had already dimmed as I said the words. I turned back to work, otherwise known as sighing hopelessly at $90 shoes on the Urban Outfitters website.

Thinking about it again now I can already feel the blood pumping faster inside my chest. Even as I’m writing this I’m trying to figure out what it is. Fear? Excitement? Elation? Happiness? Maybe it’s that in two months I won’t be coming to campus anymore, something that’s become both a second home and a dreaded destination. I won’t have reason to come to campus except be a nuisance to some of my co-workers or hang out on the Quad.

Maybe it’s the fact I don’t have much of a solid plan after this. Europe, yes. New York, yes. The where’s are covered but the how’s, when’s , why’s and what’s are vague. Too vague for an aspiring journalist who is accustomed to filling in the answers to these questions.

Do I revise it? Do I have a choice? What will I do for work during the summer? What will I do before Mike and I go to Europe? What will I do when we come back from Europe? Should we move immediately to New York or should we stay longer? How am I going to pay for all that? Will these plans work out? Are these plans really what I want?

I am confused. I want answers though I know I have to come up with them myself. With every milestone comes questions and plans and work. And here I thought graduation would bring me some relief and rest. I guess I was wrong. I feel totally unprepared for what comes after commencement.

Sure, I’ll be graduated. But then what?

And for the first time in my college career I’m seriously pondering the idea that I’d be okay with an average score in all my classes. Mostly because I can divert the effort that usually goes toward school to other areas of my life: work, Insight, planning the Europe trip, and my emaciated social life.

Is it time to uproot the high academic standards that my parents have instilled in me through fear and that I now monitor with Pavlovian reactions? Would just one semester of C’s really affect seven semester of A and B averages?

Recently my habit of procrastination has gone from being tolerable to schoolwork not being done at all. Three times this past week I showed in class empty-handed. Four times this week I’ve showed up with half-assed homework. Three times in the past three weeks I haven’t showed up at all.

I didn’t realize how bad my procrastination had gotten until five days ago when I saw a cloud of disappointment forming in the eyes of a professor as I told him I didn’t have the stories work shopped. For the second time in a row.

Okay, so I might have imagined it but there was a slight change in his facial expression that meant something. It’s a look I’ve seen before, on the faces of bosses or co-workers or my parents when I don’t follow through with something they know that I can.

At this point, there are only two paths left to me: I can keep to going down this path to all Cs, or I can sit up straight and start working harder. I haven’t decided what to do about it. I still don’t know if I care that much anymore.

I was waiting at the Virginia Street Gym shuttle stop with a crowd on Friday when a trio of friends walked by. Two of them were visibly college students. One was a black Labrador puppy.

I didn’t see the puppy so much as I heard the reaction it elicited from the crowd first. I looked up from my phone to see burly, athletic men cooing and giggling. I followed their line of sight to the puppy, which couldn’t have been more than five months old and three feet tall even on its hind legs.

We watched as the puppy wagged its tail and ran at a frantic pace just to keep up with its two-legged owners. A stranger paused to pet it and pick it up. The owners and the puppy eventually disappeared behind a building, as I boarded the shuttle with the crowd.

The incident reminded me of the kind of excitement that I felt as a young elementary school student when a stray dog or cat wandered onto the school grounds. How a boring day was transformed when a spontaneous thing happened.

It had been a stressful day up until that afternoon: work was long, my often hilarious film music class was too short, and I was strained from magazine work and homework. But for just a moment, I shared that same childish excitement with the crowd as we waited for the shuttle.