I woke up Tuesday morning with a very strange feeling in my gut. This wasn’t just the usual morning-after-Midtown guilt or the overwhelming scent of leftover Domino’s cheesy bread. This was an epiphany.
I crawled out of bed, checked to make sure I hadn’t broken another pair of shoes, stared at myself in the mirror for a hot second and suddenly realized that it was my last first day of school… Ever.
Just before Avicii dropped “Levels” at a time when Fat Daddy’s was still Gator Plus Clothing, and around the social peak of Bank Bar & Lounge (or as most people refer to it Fall 2011), we graduating seniors were just embarking on our first coveted Drop/Add Week.
Via: Gator Tailgating
On my first day of college, walking into the Norman auditorium, filled with 200 students, 10 minutes after class started, sweating from both my panic and the August heat, it amazed me that not a single soul noticed. I was intrigued but mostly confused.
So many questions raced through my mind. Can I just open my laptop? Can the teacher see me using my phone? Why is my teacher calling herself an instructor? Why is she wearing a straw-brimmed hat? Is it true what they say about TAs? Is it over yet?
The rest of the day was kind of a blur. It was also the last time I wore jeans before noon. I remember a few things, like my music professor who looked like he just walked off the main stage at Coachella. I also recall stopping to take in the hammock layers sprawled out across Plaza of the Americas and ogle at the tight rope walkers and (and vowed to never attempt something so physically strenuous).
My first week didn’t really get any easier.
The structure of education that had been embedded into my brain since kindergarten had all but vanished. There were no more bells. There was no set schedule. And, most importantly, there was no real supervision. There was just me, standing in the middle of Turlington trying my best not to get hit by the Foursquare ball.
Via: The Independent Florida Alligator
Three years later, I find myself in somewhat of the same position. Standing in Turlington trying to find my way around, except this time wearing headphones to ward off the solicitors. No, Sister Cindy. Wearing a tank top will not send me to the gates of Hell for eternal damnation. Those crocs might, though.
I laughed to myself thinking about how different yet how similar my first day of college, and my last first day of college really were.
On both occasions, I woke up dazed and slightly confused, got incredibly lost, accidentally left my phone on loud during class and narrowly escaped being run over by a cyclist on Newell. Some of the same questions still linger after all of these years. For example, what exactly are the rules for the Human v. Zombies club?
But things are definitely a little different now. I’ve come such a long way. I’m just not sure in what direction.
Via: Know Your Meme
Where Fall 2011 me naively thought that an 8:30 a.m. Tuesday mandatory lecture would be a cakewalk to make it to, Spring 2015 me struggles to muster up the strength for a mere 10:40.
Freshman me signed up for Extreme Weather, thinking classes with fun names result in easy grades. Senior me will never again make that mistake, as Extreme Weather was singlehandedly the most difficult class I have ever taken at this university.
Young me ran to the Reitz immediately after my first class to buy a textbook. Current me hasn’t purchased a textbook in over a year.
The weird feeling in my gut hasn’t really subsided, partially because it was quesadilla day at my sorority house and also because I know I’m about to spend an entire semester of “lasts.”
Last time it will be socially acceptable to wear a matching grey sweat suit, or as I like to call it, “the Groufit,” in public without fear of judgment.
Last time I can buy five drinks for $4.
Last time my yearly calendar revolves around summer vacation and winter break.
Last time I can honestly get away with eating Gummy Vitamins as a snack.
Last time I describe my age by what grade I’m in.
The last time I’ll be able to tell someone that I can’t meet them for coffee because I’m on my way to a lecture about strawberries (FRC 1010… Check it out.), because most importantly, it’s the last time I’ll be able to call myself a student.
Via: The Pantry Raid
Fortunately this also means I’m about to have a brand new set of “firsts.”
My parents are hoping this will be something like, “First time Brette pays her own utilities bill.” I’m more realistic, thinking more along the lines of “First time Brette bakes cookies and doesn’t set off the fire alarm.”
But for now, I’m going to sit here and continue to watch this “Dance Moms” marathon, troll through the depths of Justin Bieber’s Instagram and do what I want while I still fucking can. This is the life, my friends. Soak it in.
Because work never ends, but college certainly does.
Feature photo courtesy of: The Huffington Post
