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.