Beautiful Destruction

As I lay on my stomach reading Harry Potter on my front lawn, listening to the birds chirping and enjoying the cool breeze, I can’t help feel perfectly content with this beautiful, eighty-degree weather.  Even as a plastic bag blows across my ankles and the large sewage trucks backs up with an earsplitting, “BEEP…BEEP,” I find myself smiling and realizing that despite the somewhat disgusting atmosphere that inherently comes with living on Buell Street, it is precisely these moments that I’m wishing for more of.

I know a lot of us seniors have been posting about our inevitable futures that are about to begin taking shape over the next month and a half but those of you who are fortunate enough to have at least another semester left, if not more, have to understand that at this point in the game, it’s the only thing that matters.   Every little thing in daily life I can some how relate to my impending graduation, try as might to forget it.  I can’t help but feel an unbearable combination of excitement, nostalgia and flat-out fear at almost any given moment of the day. 

What I’ve come to realize is that all the little things we all bitch about (i.e. the moldy bathrooms in our apartments, our roommates who NEVER do their own dishes, the front lawn that is ALWAYS covered in plastic bags and dog shit) are the things that we are going to miss the most. 

As my roommates continue to be consumed with their academic lives and boyfriends, I can’t help but be saddened by the fact that they don’t seem to care that in a month and a half, not only will we no longer live together… we’ll be those types of friends that only see each other once every few months.  And that sucks.

I don’t really have a conclusion or a point, I suppose, but rather a suggestion.  For those of you who are completely consumed with upcoming finals and papers and blah blah blah, take a moment to just appreciate how AWESOME your life is right now.  Because before you know it, it’s going to be 2016 and you won’t have spoken to your current “best friend,” in three months. 

As one of my good friends once said to me, while I was debating whether to stay in and be a good student or to seize the opportunity to buy a ticket to an otherwise sold-out concert and rage,

“In ten years, are you going to remember the test you have tomorrow or raging your face off at the show you could see tonight?”

In all honesty, to this day, I have no idea if it was even a test that I had the following day… but I do remember exactly what song Pretty Lights opened with…