As I approach the day when I'll stand in my blue gown, getting my B.A. in B.S., with a rolled-up piece of paper in my hand, I continuously replay the last four years of my life. I laugh, I smile, I cringe. It's kind of like trying to watch an episode of ""South Park"" in your living room with your parents and your grandma.
I think back to freshman year, where the only dialogue between my roommate and myself involved threats to my well- being, references to her elusive ""black-belt in karate"" and my escalating sense that coming to Madison was a horrible mistake.
Fast-forward to senior year, and I'm glad I stayed—physically intact and entirely insane.
But as I presently live through my senior year, I find it hard to actually be present. I'm here, but I'm also quite not. By the fourth year, I'm convinced that the brain starts to transmogrify, undergo a rapid developmental process that comes with no warning, garnering slightly humiliating changes that can't be stopped—yes, it's the neurological equivalent of teenage puberty.
The right hemisphere transforms into a reserve entitled ""Living It Up."" In an unexplainable twist, its functions no longer promote diligence, social order and numerical calculations, but rather the complete opposite. It neglects to recognize such everyday words as ""read,"" ""memorize"" and ""hypothesize,"" has an obsessive fixation on Madison cuisine and becomes startlingly activated by sunny days and words ending with ""-hol"" between the hours of 2 p.m. and 4 a.m. ""Living It Up"" is also referred to in its abbreviated, alternative form: ""FIU,"" or ""Fucking It Up.""
The left hemisphere, however, morphs into the bisection entitled ""WTF Am I Going To Do With My Life."" It eschews its usual analytical, logical and rational functions in favor of the following activities: embittered yelling matches with parents regarding The Rest Of Your Life, sending out resumes riddled with grammatical errors and statements regarding Things You've Never Done, and a preoccupation with always feeling preoccupied.
Like the fluctuating hormones of our teens, these two sides switch on and off in varying degrees. You can wake up in the morning and ""WTF"" is up and activated, ready to pounce on the next job or internship application in all its hyper-frenzied and irrational glee. Then, unexpectedly, ""FIU"" moves right in like some sudden acid trip, stimulated by the 73-degree weather, the kick-ass bread at Himal Chuli and the feel of the orange terrace chair underneath your skirt-adorned butt.
But besides the mental transformations experienced during senior year, there are also physical changes. A positive correlation occurs between the size of your ass and the amount of time spent procrastinating. Instead of papers, readings and group projects, your hours are filled with Facebook-browsing, sun-basking and sampling the various types of curry in Library Mall. In addition, your hair starts to resemble desert tumbleweed as you reserve showers and hair gel only for the occasional Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights out.
However, as your brain transforms, and then your body follows, perhaps the most important element is saved for last: your perspective. I've changed from the college senior who just wants to stay and keep ""FIU"" to the person who is curious and ready to just get the heck out of here—with or without a plan! And as I sit on the Terrace in front of Lake Mendota with my friends, I can't help but compare graduation to the view. It's a lot like sitting on a boat and staring out at the lake—all you see is water, not an inch of land and you think, ""Where the heck do I dock?""
But before I do, I'll spend my last couple of weeks Living It Up, Fucking It Up, and gladly calling Madison ""home.""
Which hemisphere rules your life? The right or the left? Tell all at gleicher@wisc.edu!
