So sorry for dropping off a bit there, the last bit of school and my sheer laziness/Suits took over and nothing could be done. But trust me some exciting ideas have been buzzing around my head lately. But first… Let me take a selfie.
That’s right! The City Villager is done-skies! I wrote my last exam last night, came home, watched two episodes of CSI, trolled the internet for a bit and then went into a restless coma. In the fall when I got my grad photos notice I wrote this post about all the lessons I had learned over the course of my undergrad. And I come to you with a few extras:
- Door knobs are for decoration. Just push the door, it’ll open. Except the doors in SITE, place is like Fort Knox outside the front doors. If you think I’m joking, I am actually at a point where I get annoyed when I have to turn a knob.
- Crossing signals may represent the law, but they really are just guidelines here in Ottawa, after 4 years here I more just follow the people – no one will hit 12 people crossing the street right?
- Starting any series within a week of something really important just isn’t a good idea.
- Ottawa will make a contest out of anything. Including not doing your laundry and making it publicly known and posting an alarming number of selfies.
- The hot dog man is the unofficial sign of spring. His move to the other side of the street is almost newsworthy.
But beyond the slightly unorthodox lessons I have learned over the years, there were quite a few I didn’t even really clue into until the last month. Like the fact that you can schedule rooms on campus. So maybe I’m not actually ready to graduate. What really hit me though was that for the last 4 years I have rhymed off my student number like it was my name. I never closed an email to a professor without including the brief piece of information because in first year it was pressed upon me by my chemistry and biology professors that otherwise they would have no idea who I was. My identity essentially was those 7 digits. But what about after? What about now? Most of my professors this semester and last knew me by name because I had taken the time to introduce myself and by 4th year it’s small enough that that sort of thing is possible. But who am I know? That number was part of me as a student, it was branded into my brain in the first year and has been filled out on an alarming number of scantrons. What good is it now though?
And I think that’s the thing that plays on the minds of a lot of people, who, like me, are graduating. The first 22-23 years of our lives we are set with this end goal the schedule of daily tasks and assignments all aimed at attaining some recognition and a piece of paper or a cookie. What’s the end goal in real life though?
As frustrating at Rabaska was for most, at least it was a closed system of options. I was held within a cocoon of relatively simple choices, and now I get to/have to make my own. I have to choose from a dizzying array of positions and hope that I am chosen from the dizzying list of applicants. That’s real world stuff right there.
And it’s terrifying.
So for at least a few days I am going to continue to bask in the warm glow of “I don’t have to go to class but I do have to go to work so I am going to get up at 7AM so I can run” and “I don’t have an essay to write so I am going to binge watch Netflix” And sing Greenday endlessly for days, because let’s face it, it’s the unofficial graduation song aside from that weird graduation march I had to learn in Grade 11.
My house may also resemble a bakery by Monday and I may end up taking up knitting or designing a carpet (I actually CAN and HAVE made a custom rug. Opa Senior Style. I’ll stop now). Who knows? I’ve sort of got the freedom now. Or you know, I just don’t have classes and nothing else has really changed because there’s not much I can do with my degree til I go to grad school and I have to do the big kid thing and get a real job.