O Captain! My Captain!

I drove 30 minutes out of my way to Starbucks, not for the coffee, but for the latest copy of the New York Times. There was an article I needed to read as I was recently inspired to write a paper on feminism and masculinity, but that’s a story for another time.

I stormed through the Starbucks, past the seven or eight people crouched behind laptops at tables lined along the wall, doing my best “important walk,” as I typically do when I’m deep in political thought.

After ordering my usual grande café mocha and snatching the second-to-last copy of the NYT, I sat down at a large empty table, flipped open the newspaper, cracked open my laptop, and settled into the line of others who were equally absorbed in the art of looking busy.

I began my research for the brilliant paper I was going to write but was stopped short when I found that after graduating, I no longer had access to my university’s online library sources despite still being able to log-in to my TU portal account. It was no matter though, because just minutes later I heard something from the table behind me that peaked my interest.

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Wake Up To Find You’re The Graduating Class

For most of my friends, it’s second semester of senior year. Holy sh*t. IT’S ALL HAPPENING. And for those who aren’t second semester seniors, your day will arrive before you even have time to hand down your fake ID so hang in there.

Because I’m actually 35 on the inside, I set a goal for myself to graduate college early. So a little over a month ago, I walked across that stage, smiling and low-key fighting back tears, shook hands with the Klein College president, and snatched that Temple University envelope that held my fake degree (still waiting for mine to arrive in the mail… tick, tock, Temple).

But alas, I like to think I’ve acquired some wisdom from my unusual college experience, and especially from that final semester, so here we go:
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