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19 going on 90?


Roughly a year ago, I felt like I was in my prime. Yes, I was facing a drastic case of senioritis that left me practically incapable of doing anything but watching Netflix and making music videos in the back of classrooms with my friends, but I was thriving nonetheless.

I had a four month summer to look forward to and I could be as lazy as I desired. The excitement of dorm shopping kept me content and occupied with the Target and Bed, Bath & Beyond websites. My school flooded me and all of my friends with goodbye picnics and yearbook signing parties. Life was good.

Now, it’s a whole year later, and I’m nearing the end of my freshman year here — which, so far, has been everything that I hoped it would be and more. With the arrival of Admit Weekend, a time that seemed so far away, I’ve found myself desperately clinging onto the remaining weeks of spring quarter.  

I remember when my sneakers were the ones running through the tunnel of HoHos screaming their praises, or eagerly bouncing on the pavement outside of MemAud, watching the Tree dance in front of the rally-covered LSJUMB, still in disbelief over the fact that I even got into Stanford. Being on the other side of everything has put me in a very nostalgic mood. I mean, I look forward to the spring quarter festivities like Frost and Bay to Breakers like anyone else, but the sooner they get here, the closer I am to ending this year — and I have to say that all the descriptions of sophomore year as a “slump” don’t exactly have me jumping out of my skin to get there.

Even if the less-than-appealing description of a second year at Stanford wasn’t in the picture, I know that I still wouldn’t be able to help but feel that I’m just getting older. I know. Nineteen is far from old. And moving out of Rinconada doesn’t mean that I’m moving into a retirement home. But still, I’m not really any closer to figuring out what I’m going to do with my life than I was a year ago. Back then, it was enough that I was going to college. That was my whole plan. But sooner or later I’m going to have to develop some sort of new plan for what comes next. Yes, I have three more years in the safety of the Stanford bubble, but considering how quickly this one zoomed by, I can’t even say that three years feels like very much.

Then again, that’s the whole point of this age, right? If there’s any time in your life where it’s okay to not know what in the world is going on, I suppose it’s right now. I have so much life left to live. We all do.

We all know that famous saying, “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” As cliché as it is for me to pull a quote that was probably my middle school gmail signature at one point or another, Dr. Seuss was right, and I’ll be keeping that phrase in mind as the quarter comes to a close. And hey, even if nothing else were to come out of the “sophomore slump” next year, at least I won’t have to eat at Wilbur Dining everyday anymore. That has got to count for something.



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