Senioritis.
I realized last week that I have this. I've actually (probably obviously) had it for quite some time, but it hit home when a former intern visited and was talking about how hard it was to finish the final college semester.
I told him that if he was smart, he'd stay in school. It's the cool thing to do; plus he was white, so it felt like a no-brainer really.
But back to me. I have senioritis.
I have it because I never got it before. Sure, I said I had it, but when I look at how I feel now versus how I felt then, I know that I was naive, lacking any and all forethought and thus, possibly stupid.
Then, in my final college semester, I just wanted to get away. My thesis had exploded in my face; my roommate situation was twirling on the teensiest, most frayed string ever; I was worried that not having a proper PR internship was going to bite me; and I was haunted by the sinking feeling that all the hustle I'd packed into finishing college in 4 years was a mistake (the no studying abroad thing was a big mistake). I was no closer to knowing what I was going to do. I needed more time. I just wanted to get away.
So I claimed Senioritis and claimed Spring Break as my last chance to regain some sanity. By the time I got back, I was upward and onward.
But now?
Shiyid.
I have SeniorITIS, man! I don't want to get away. I want. To get. Uh-waaaaaaaaay. Like. Lost. Forget about it.
So here's my thinking: Senioritis works like the chicken pox. The later in life you contract it, the worse it affects you.
The symptoms are dire:
- Chronic indifference
- the adoption of various French terms a la "insouciance," "c'est la vie," "laissez-faire"
- Eye rolling. Rampant eye-rolling. Think angsty teen times 4,000.
- Daydreaming
If you are working, toss "the constant viewing of non-work related websites" into the mix because clearly there's no better escape than losing yourself in the albums and friends lists of all your Facebook/Myspace friends.
Once a classic overachiever, I was far too uptight to play real hooky. I never cut class. I goofed off and disrupted class, but at least I was there. Even in college -- most of all in college -- I was steadfast. The "Animal House" experience was for other people whose parents could afford to support their children's 5- and 6-year college plans; that was okay for people who felt certain about rebounding from a 2.0 gpa semester.
I had 4 years and that was it. Do or die.
I did it and wouldn't you know my luck -- now, every day almost, I feel like I'm dying. "Take another little piece of my heart" is becoming a phrase that gets stuck in my head far too often.
But enough lamenting. Change is afoot, I assure you. What kind of change I cannot yet say, but Spring is coming and I say it might just be high time this girl to be gone wild ... and free.