This is it, kids, we're going to live forever. We're part of the story now.
In twelve hours, I will be staring at a podium. I will stare at that podium for two hours, with only the occasional break to look at my friends and share a knowing smile or a glance that manages to sum up "God, when is this going to be OVER?!" in a split second. I will get up from the chair, I will hear my name, I will walk across a stage, it will all be over.
And when that's done, I'll pose for pictures, I'll give hugs, I'll meet parents. I will do it all as a different person.
I will do it as a college graduate.
I have spent the past two months of my life living like someone I don't even recognize. I spun in and out of bars between 32-hour design benders. I double-fisted PBR and screamed that I was going to live forever, and though the words were a joke, I kind of meant them. I was ten feet tall, I was bullet-proof.
I was scared. I was defeated. I stayed in one chair for 32 hours not because I wanted to work so hard on my thesis, but because I knew I was going to break down as soon as I left the room since I lost the job I really wanted. I hurled my keys across the studio, I cried, I collapsed in a heap in a friend's arms because it was finally too much to take.
I finished my thesis.
I detached from the entire world around me and made new friends. I shot what felt like a hundred games of darts. I forgot how to hustle at pool. I played in a Friday poker game because I thought it was easy money and good practice and then I bought everyone beers with the money they had lost to me.
When I wake up tomorrow, I will look in the mirror for the last time as a college student. When I go to sleep at night, even after a night of dancing and screaming at the top of my lungs, I will be a college graduate. I can't figure out if the phrase I want to use is "I just want it to be over" or "I wish I could do it all again".
I would give anything to re-live the last five years of my life. I would do some of it differently if I was convinced I could come out the same way, but I know I couldn't. I am five years of mistakes in the making, but every single one of them led me to where I get to be tomorrow.
I have been privileged enough to spend these five years in a room with 18 of the most creative, talented people I can ever imagine meeting. It seems only appropriate to end with a toast. So here's to the last five years - to dollar nights, to euchre, to bolt actions and sniper rifles and camping. To riding rockets, flicking caps, Abe Lincoln, to Bone. To 4 a.m. recording sessions, to hard drive crashes, to moving cross-country every three months. It's been a good run - here's to the rest of it.
