It's Not All Roses (Just kidding. It really is.)

The end is getting closer, and it’s becoming more obvious. Just yesterday I received an email detailing the extensive moving out process. I don’t even want to think about hauling all of this stuff that I’ve accumulated over the year back to Dacula, and I especially don’t want to think about the three long months that I’ll be away from Athens and all of my friends. So, in order to help ease the pain of leaving paradise on Earth aka college at UGA, I’m making a “Things I’m Not Going to Miss About Being a Freshman” list:

        + The Brumby Hill
        + The Cookie of the Day (I will miss it, but my thighs will celebrate their
         absence)
        + PAWS (You’re more fickle than Georgia weather in March)
        + Papers. Tests. Reading. Papers. Papers. Papers.
        + My Shower Caddy
        + Not being able to see the back of my closet
        + Not being able to reach the top of my closet
        + Climbing into bed
        + The long walk to the bathroom
        + Fourth Meal
        + Visitation Hours
        + Fire Alarms
        + Having to get out of bed before two on Sunday in order to make it to
         breakfast
        + Getting sick every other week from “you don’t even want to know what 
         grows in the dorms”     –University Health Center doctor
        + Walking to class in hot weather, cold weather, rainy weather, etc.

It took me nearly thirty minutes to compile this list because the negatives are so few and far between, and in all honesty, the negatives aren’t even that bad. Griping about the Brumby Hill and the burnt cinnamon roll induced fire alarms at three in the morning have brought me together with many of my friends, and the freshman experience would not be complete without the inevitable drawbacks of college life.  

Recently, it's come to my attention that I’m an incredibly sentimental and slightly neurotic person. It seems that everything is becoming “a last.” The last time I’ll ever eat “The Pie”. The last time I’ll ever do laundry in the dorm (which in all honesty was back in February. Thanks, Mom!). The last time I’ll ever sleep on three different futons in one weekend. It’s becoming a bit of a problem, especially because I’m using this as an excuse to eat nearly everything in the dining hall. Don’t judge me for eating seven servings of banana pudding. It’s the last time I’ll ever get to eat the meal plan’s perfect blend of bananas, vanilla wafers, and whipped cream. While I’m sad that I’ll never get to stuff myself with banana pudding again, one of the saddest moments will be when I wear my boots downtown for the last time. Back in June, I made a “College Essentials” list and topping the list was cowboy boots. I bought my beloved boots explicitly for college and the many yet to be worn outfits that they would complete. Over the past year, nearly every “going out” dress that I’ve purchased has had to fit one incredibly important credential: Will it go with the boots?

It’s hard to believe that this year has gone by so quickly, and I never would have guessed how emotional the end was going to be. I can only imagine the sadness that’s going to beseech me in three years, but I’m not even going to think about that. So, until then, I’m going to continue living the life of a Georgia Bulldog and making the most of these fleeting days.  And wearing my boots, of course. 

The Freshmen Thirty-Six

In exactly thirty-six days, the futon that I’m currently sitting on will be stuffed into its original IKEA box, surrounded by the contents of my 9 x 13 dorm room. The paper swans that Callie and I so diligently made last summer will be cut from their strings and will no longer look over me as I study late into the night. My growing collection of red and black pom-poms will be removed from the random holes in my bedframe. The countless name tags that my RA has hung on my door throughout the year will be in a folder with the countless other paper souvenirs of this year. In essence, my home for the past year will be no more, and I will return to the Atlanta suburbs for three months of rest and recovery. 

I think I am denial that this year is going to end. My freshman year of college has been the best year of my life by far, and I have trouble believing that anything else can possibly surpass this year. Nothing could have possibly prepared me for this experience. Sure, I’d seen movies, and I’d been subject to my mom’s endless stories about the roller coaster that is college, but this year was better than anything I could have imagined. There were the occasional bouts of homesickness and moments when the stress of it all seemed overwhelming, but the new friendships that I made and the personal growth I experienced more than made up for them. I can honestly say that there is no feeling more satisfying than being thrust into a completely foreign environment and to do more than just survive, but to thrive. After this year, I know that I can survive nearly anything, and I am so thankful to the people who have helped me to thrive in this environment. 

Tonight, after dining at Bolton, Andrea and I walked around the entirety of the UGA campus. Surrounded by the beauty of north campus, I realized that this year is rapidly coming to an end, and the next three years are sure to follow suit. In some ways, it feels like I just got here. Sometimes, it feels like I’ve been trekking up the Brumby Hill for years. It’s hard to imagine that less than a year ago, I was making countless pro/con lists between Alabama and UGA, and I actually had difficulty deciding between the two. Now, it seems as if there is no other school I could possibly go to. Even harder to imagine is that the people who make up my everyday life here were strangers and unknown faces a year ago. I’m happy to say that all of my high school friends remain important people in my life today, but those friendships have changed to fit the people we have become. Some friendships have grown stronger than I ever imagined, and people who were on the fringe of my life in high school have become some of my best friends. Other friendships have suffered their tribulations, but as the year comes to an end, they have all returned to their “former state of glory.”    

So, in thirty-six days, when my boots are crammed into the trunk, my freshman year will be officially over, but the memories and experiences of this year will last forever. My boots are no longer in the pristine condition they once were. They bear the battle scars of downtown Athens, the water marks from the sudden floods that sweep across campus, the sand from spring break that has made its way into the stitching, the fading ash marks from bonfires, and the slow erosion of the soles from countless steps- some in the right direction and some thirty steps in the wrong direction…