Since I just harangued my friend for neglecting her blog, I thought I'd better post. I've been afraid to write anything in here after my last post because it turned out so maudlin and cliched. I don't know how to write or think about my life right now without sounding whiny or sentimental. Perhaps I should just accept my own whiny sentimentality and go with it.

Today I had my final therapy session with my current therapist. It was a good session and I was able to honestly say that I would miss her. I haven't always been sure about this therapist, but I think all in all we've done well together. I really felt the finality of the moment as I walked down the stairs for the last time. Having this ending made me recognize all the other endings I will be facing in the next week or so. I persist in feeling like this is just another end-of-term, followed by a vacation, then another semester. It is hard to grasp the fact that I'll be leaving this chapter of my life behind in all ways: physically, emotionally, intellectually. I have really enjoyed the community here in the Valley, even as I took it for granted almost all the time. It is daunting to think about creating a new community somewhere else, especially since I don't know where that will be. I should be getting better at doing this - I move with alarming frequency - but I don't feel any more comfortable with the prospect.

In an attempt to hammer home the reality of my situation, I decided to say goodbye to Mount Holyoke by revisiting every classroom I've inhabited, in order of habitation. I made it through the 2004/2005 slate and will continue the mission tomorrow. In Richard Linklater's fantastic pair of movies, Before Sunrise and Before Sunset, he employs this method of remembrance. At the end of the first movie, the camera alights on each place the two lovers have occupied, showing the locations empty in the light of day. At the beginning of the second movie, the camera moves to each place the lovers will inhabit through the course of the film. This practice of visiting places that have been or will be invested with meaning seems apt. As I physically occupy the spaces that have constituted the landscape of my Mount Holyoke career, I reoccupy the events and states of mind that took place inside those spaces. Sitting in the empty rooms, I am able to repopulate them and measure the distance between my past and present selves. As an exercise in self-conscious recreation, it's particularly effective. There is also something satisfyingly poignant about sitting alone in an empty classroom. Empty spaces easily fill with meaning and memory.

This morning, at 9:50am, I completed the last final of my undergraduate career. It was a big moment, fittingly memorialized by my Biology professor, who gave me a firm handshake and a big smile. I walked out of Merrill 1 giddy, almost shaking with excitement and relief. I stopped at the pay phone outside the lecture hall to call Keith. No dial tone. I tried the other pay phone. No dial tone. So, being embedded firmly in the 21st century, I hied myself hence to the computer lab and emailed a select group of friends and family. After three years of rigorous undergraduate education at a fine institution, the only words I could find to express the gravity of my impending graduation were "Oh. My. God." Where would we be without Southern California?

I tried to find the perfect song, the perfect activity, the perfect words to adequately memorialize this occasion. Finally, I was forced to admit that nothing could be adequate. There's too much contained inside this momentous event. So, I bought a sandwich, returned my library books, and found some friends who are experiencing the same stage of their lives. We spent the rest of the day merrily not talking about it. We sat in the sun. We applied sunblock. We drank margaritas and Corona. We checked our mailboxes. We went out to dinner. And all the while a little drum beat inside my chest "Done. Done. Done. Done."

I have twelve days to dwell in this sweet in-between zone before Commencement pushes me out into the great blue yonder. I plan to spend them all.