When I first got to Brown in September 2009, I was lacking all kinds of life experience. Never been kissed. Never been drunk. Never gotten anything less than a B+ in a class (screw you too, AP Euro). I can say with confidence that none of those statements apply to me anymore (screw you too, Math 35). Milestones aside, though, it’s kind of astonishing to look back and see just how far I’ve come. At the start of my freshman year, I may as well have been thirteen years old for my lack of maturity. Now, well, I probably don’t always fit my parents’ definition of how a 22-year-old should act, but I’m pretty sure I at least match Taylor Swift’s.
The thought of graduating and entering the “real world” is terrifying. I’m one of the lucky ones with a cushion under me, what with my moving back home and going to grad school and all, and it’s still scary. I’m not going to have to deal with broken appliances in some crappy apartment and I’m not futilely searching for jobs, yet I’m still fighting the urge to look at May 26th like the Mayans were off by five months and the world as I know it will end. [Read more →]