Oh dearest friends, as I sit here in Skillman in classic finals attire, haggard, tired, and looking like a Hobbit that hasn’t seen sunlight in half a century, I’m suddenly overcome with a surprising and somewhat alarming wave of emotion. This is my final and last address to you all for the semester, and it’s kind of hitting me harder than expected. It’s actually getting difficult for me to even type this out—literally. My hands have begun violently trembling against my keyboard and I can hardly muster the strength to push each little letter downwards, but I’m pretty sure that has more to do with me nearing my 34th hour without sleep and not so much the emotions and feelings part. Not important, moving on.
As the semester winds down and campus starts emptying out with friends beginning to pack up their rooms and Upper closing its doors to the public (a travesty, I’ll admit I’m still not over), I recognize how special Lafayette truly is. You see, in the spring, I’ll be off to merry Londontown: the land of tea, crumpets, Benedict Cumberbatch and Platform 9 ¾ — need I say more?
While I’m incredibly excited and ready to set off into the world and away from this little bubble we know as Lafayette, I also realize how important it is to treasure the day-to-day moments that we take for granted throughout our busy schedules and hectic itineraries.
For example, the fact that we are able to walk through the tall glass doors of Skillman, scan the sea of computers and recognize a handful of friends and familiar faces is a rare privilege on a college campus. It’s the same with the breezy two-minute walk across the quad (one and a half if I’m feeling particularly ambitious), unexpectedly bumping into your freshman year roommate in line for the Post Office (which could be very pleasant or unpleasant for some of you), and having the person pushed up against you in an uncomfortably close Pardee elevator be the same person you saw walk-of-shaming on McCartney the other morning. (They know it, you know it, the entire McCartney St. population knows it, but you say nothing. You’re a kind soul, after all.)
For a long time I wasn’t as appreciative of these little intricacies and special moments we share as students that are entirely unique to this campus. I guess the realization that I soon won’t have these comforts to rely on for a semester has inspired me to notice them and value them, particularly in these past few weeks.
It took me longer than most to find this magic and wonderment in Lafayette, but now that I have I can’t imagine being happier anywhere else. A lot of that has to do with this column, and you all. I can’t tell you how much fun I’ve had writing, joking, and (occasionally) making a fool of myself in this special corner of the newspaper I’m given every week.
I began my first column, way back in August, with a quote from Robin Williams, so to conclude I think I’ll leave you with these wise words of the brilliant late comedian: “You’re only given one little spark of madness. You mustn’t lose it.”
So thank you, Lafayette, for letting me ignite my little spark of madness this fall. Finally, and for the last time this year…Yeager Out.