I feel quite at home staring at a mostly blank document. Each and every one of the articles I’ve written start with the words “Blah” and then I type in random words and phrases that I feel are good directions to take. I’ll come back to the article later and have a good foundation to write though there were times when I wasn’t sure if my previous, vague framework works so well or, most likely, I forgot what the random words and phrases were supposed to mean.
But that feeling of being at home won’t last very long. Soon, I’ll start filling out these blank spaces (get out of my brain, T-Swift) and then I’ll be done. I’ll be done with my senior column and done with the Trinitonian and done with Trinity and done with the people I’ve met here. There’s an air of finality to these last few weeks. My life will never be like how it is right at this moment.
My time is at an end but it feels like there’s so many things left for me to do. I’m not chomping at the bit to take another test or to finish another essay, but I wish I could stay longer.
I started writing down random thoughts (if you know me at all, it’s in a digital format) and I’ve started collecting all these notes about future stories I wanted to write about.
Sure, I do the movie review here and there plus whatever random thing seems relevant to the world of Arts & Entertainment, but my favorite stories were the features. I loved writing about my personal romantic relationship and our culture’s reticent regarding sex (seriously, go talk about sex). I loved talking about the extreme pandering occurring online that I think is destroying a lot of rational and well-thought-out discussion (thanks, Tumblr) or the importance of frugality (I’m still learning that””thanks, board games). I had some other ideas that I wrote down that I regret not being able to write about: existentialism and pop culture, elitism in media and life, changing tastes, finding people that understand your niches.
But, my biggest regret was not finding the time and energy to continue “This Trinity Life,” my short-lived newspaper ripoff of “This American Life.” I loved that it wasn’t about me or this school but about what makes this school and what makes my life amazing: people. I wish I could have covered the lives “” or little moments in the lives “” of professors, staff, administrators, first-years and, well, you get the point.
I like to think I’m self-sufficient and I don’t need anyone. I hate asking for favors and bothering people about anything. I’d like to think that, but I would be no one without all the people that have touched my life in their own ways these past four years.
I owe those people my knowledge, my time, my experiences, my memories and my growth (even you, person reading this article).
It must be disgusting reading all of these sappy, nostalgic senior columns combined into one paper. It’s a very wistful and masturbatory process to create all these stream-of-consciousness stories about my time here.
A lot of things have happened to all of us. I’m not special. I lived my life these past four years. You’ve lived yours (or will live yours, if you’re not done).
There’s not really a satisfying conclusion. I didn’t place a forceful period or exclamation mark to the story.
Time moved on like it always does and it wrote a period for my story. Unlike that day in all of our futures, this period does have more after it, though.
I am sad to leave this place but I know that this place, and everything in it, will forever be a part of me.