Monday, October 8, 2012

6th Week of Senior Year: That Lovin' Feelin'

For those of you who aren't familiar with the 60's pop duo The Righteous Brothers, there's a chance you've still heard of their song "You've Lost That Lovin' Feelin.'" If you haven't heard it, youtube it for old times' sake and then come back here.

I feel like this song encapsulates how I feel this semester. The honeymoon is over, Summer is gone, September has ended, and I am starting to get cold feet (literally). Perhaps I can call it the onset of "senioritis."

I was leaving campus the other day and I walked down the back steps near the library. The air was warm and the sky was cloudy, but it was still lovely outside. The leaves have started to fall on campus, so whenever the wind blows I watch the "Pocahontas effect" unfold and I have to resist the urge to sing "Colors of the Wind."

Anyway, as I walked to the car, I thought back to how I would have reacted to this scene if I were still a Freshman.

Let's rewind. In the October of Freshman year, everything was still fresh and new to me.

October 6th, 2009, was the first (and probably last) time I donated blood.
Manhattan College had a blood drive. 

I still had a relatively "large group of friends," as was the case with many Freshmen because it was still too early for people's true colors to show. I wasn't as afraid as I am now. (I also wasn't as fashionable as I am now, but that's beside the point). The campus was still this gorgeous, mysterious place to me. I liked Riverdale, and the ivy patches, and the trees. I yearned to dorm. I loved the atmosphere. I liked seeing hundreds of my peers walking around in the same place. My imagination was springing with ideas of what I could write, what I could make, what I could capture.

Since the October of Freshman year, much water has gone under the bridge. I lost friends, made new ones, still managed to sort of stay in touch with some of the old ones. No one plays with their nerf guns anymore. Most of my friends live in Overlook, the charmless and dingy off campus apartment building for upperclassmen. The thrill of pranking doesn't exist. Everyone's busy, everyone's attached to their technology, everyone's at least slightly jaded. By this point we're all done with the core curriculum and we're taking classes specific to our majors. These classes are supposed to be challenging. So, we like to complain. Complaining has become a pastime and a way of life.

But I still remember those early Freshman days, with a great fondness. Life before Sophomore year happened. I was resilient, I was happy, I had fun. I interacted with people without fear of being rejected.

Of course, after October, Freshman year changed for everyone. Friendship groups disbanded and added new people. The crowds of Freshman going to the dining hall dwindled down to one or two freshman walking together at a time. As for me, I was a commuter--and pretty soon, the reality of that hit me. Commuters are destined to be outliers, no matter what. You don't live here, you just go to school here. Stop trying to be close with your friends that dorm--they'll always have a connection with each other that you won't understand because they live together.

Fast forward to present time--now when I walk around campus, I no longer get that magical, nostalgic, ohmigosh-i-feel-like-im-in-a-movie feeling. Instead, it's more of the, "ah, good 'ol Manhattan College" feeling. I'm aware that it's senior year, and that time is ticking, and part of me still clings to the campus and doesn't want to leave. However, another part of me is ready to part ways with school and move on with my life. Insert the song "Gravity" by Sara Bareilles here.

An image not easily forgotten.


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