Farewell from Pardon the Interlude



By Alexandria Sardam| @KyKernel

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I honestly don’t know how I’m graduating. I’ve barely made it through this semester without being hopelessly late to every class, sauntering in with uncombed hair and globs of sleep in my eyes. Please don’t be fooled by the freshly printed final essay proudly cradled in the hand not clamping onto my giant coffee because, you see, the only reason my paper’s physical state is not a direct reflection of my own is due to the fact that it’s just come out of the printer since I completed the piece only minutes prior to class. (That would also explain the additional tardiness).

I’ve exhausted every drop, retake and withdraw option presented to the student body. My GPA could certainly stand to be higher, I’m late on my sorority dues and I’m pretty positive they’re going to hold my diploma for the heaping pile of parking tickets I’ve accumulated with my Volvo that I’ve been delinquent on paying.

Some diagnose my current predicament as “senioritis,” but those are also the same people that say, “Ah, bless her heart” when they really mean, “What an idiot.” And if you’ve read this column before, you know I’m not a big supporter of sugar coating. But I honestly think what it comes down to, aside from being extremely lazy, is the fact that no matter what I do—or don’t do—doesn’t stop, delay or even alter the inevitable that’s awaiting us all.

Change.Saying goodbye is never easy. Especially for someone like me whose eyes gloss and hands tremble at the mere thought of forming my lips into the oval that shapes the “g” in that unfortunate word. This is my last column of Pardon the Interlude. Not just my last of the semester, but my last ever, for I’m finally graduating from the big blue university that’s housed many of our dear old college days. I just don’t want this lifestyle, this college life I’ve been living, to be done.

And no, I’m not afraid of the “real world.” I don’t know about you, but this world I’ve been an active living member of has been pretty realistic to me. So no, I’m not afraid of this alternate universe you speak of, nor am I afraid of getting a “big girl job” (another coined phrase I absolutely hate), because believe it or not, I actually am rather pumped about pursuing a career in the field I’ve both loved and studied for the past five years.

What I mean by “lifestyle” is not really what I’m doing to consume my time, but who I’m consuming it with and who I don’t want to part with. What I’m afraid to let go of is the closeness I have with my friends, those few professors and my brother with whom I live with. I’m afraid to let go of the sweet comfort in seeing them at my disposal. I’m afraid to let go of the frequency in our random encounters. And while I’m very aware FaceTime and SnapChat are all the rage, being with them in the moments of my college years can never be duplicated. And that scares the crap out of me.

It honestly wasn’t until I started writing this, my final column, that I realized things really aren’t that out of my control. Yes, the whole change thing—that’s going to happen. It will happen at times when we know it’s coming as plain as daylight (graduation), and other times it’ll just smack us in the face like a big wet fish. But while we don’t have control over change, we do have control over how we handle life and the lemons it’ll lob at us, expected or not.

I used to think the solice in life was found within the comfortability of those who surround us. But what I’ve recently discovered is that for whatever reason, those people might not always be around. Whether it’s simply a night or years, being away from the people you love is the hardest kind of change a person will experience. But while you’re away and they’re gone, the thought of their love they gave you can be brought back to life, sparked through memories.

For some, smells trigger distinct thoughts of childhoods. For me, it’s music. Music has this power to embrace old memories. Recently I’ve discovered that the music I listen to doesn’t have to be just a nostalgic experience. It can be a hopeful one as well. I’ve used it to not only reflect on my time here at the university, but spanning back to my very first day of school, with a toothy grin and Pocahontas lunch box.

Music is a wonderous time machine that not only goes back; it can link to your future, marrying your lovely memories of childhood firsts to adult firsts. I’ve found great peace within the magical spell of music. Time is out of our control, life is out of our control, but your grasp on what often feels like is swirling out of control around you is all about perception, not control.

So instead of letting the hustle and bustle of life make you dizzy, tilt your head back, close your eyes and enjoy the ride. And please, if you’re daring enough, put your hands in the air. You won’t regret it. I promise.

My dearest friends, it’s been a pleasure.

“Such a long, long time to be gone and a short time to be there.” -The Grateful Dead