Reflecting on the roller-coaster ride that is UAlbany

 
Back when I was a freshman, most of the older UAlbany students were effortlessly able to call me out on my rookie ranking — somehow, they just knew.

   Having finally achieved seniority, it's now the college newbies who try to figure out my status on campus, and apparently I still look like a freshman. But beneath my youthful facade, I am a radically different person from when I first stepped an uncertain foot on the school's concrete campus. After spending four years here, it's almost impossible not to be.

   Freshman year, I would walk through campus to find myself engulfed in a sea of strangers. Now, I travel across the Podium and spot familiar faces all along the way. I always recognize people I know from classes, my building, bars, the drunk bus. This especially holds true on the days when I oversleep, roll out of bed, and troll to class, looking like a small-scale disaster and hoping I can slink through the day unnoticed.

   Over time, my place of weekend worship gradually evolved from Bogie's to the Bayou. They may not have confessionals or give sermons, but on karaoke night at the Bayou, I like to think of myself as part of the choir. 

   Years ago, I looked to find fun in bizarre places. My roommates and I would anxiously await "Chocolate Fountain Day" at our quad's dining hall with the same enthusiasm normally reserved for regular Fountain Day. The scope of my world was a bit small back then.

   Expanding that scope eventually came about from venturing beyond my comfort zone, something I tend to do with reluctance. My best experiences here have been the result of things I was initially terrified to try: playing intramural soccer, walking dogs at a local shelter for class credit, planning a trip to Florida with my roommates -- even writing for this paper. In the end, I came out of these experiences with new friends, memories, bylines, and a lot of anecdotes involving pooper-scooper mishaps.

   Of course, I'm still the same in certain ways. I've come to accept that I will always be a little bit ditzy, whether I'm being knocked over by the delinquent doors of an elevator inside Eastman Tower or attempting to key into the wrong room while in the wrong building on Empire.

   I still find happiness through simple things, despite my lack of a meal plan barring me from "Chocolate Fountain Day." There continues to be an insuppressible element of excitement involved in receiving a care package from home, although they unfortunately come less and less frequently as the course of college progresses.

   I came to Albany without the slightest clue as to what I planned to do with my life. Almost four years later, I still have no idea. The only difference now is that I've begun to suspect that there isn't necessarily anything wrong with this. Actually, it may even be normal—who knew?!

    I realize that college is much like a roller coaster at an amusement park; excitement and anticipation fester while waiting in line for your turn—or for some, maybe it's dread and fear of the unknown. But after finally getting secured and situated, you come to discover that the ride is filled with ups and downs and even a few sharp curves that challenge your threshold, making you question whether or not you can hang on until the end.

   You won't realize that it's almost over until the end of the track is in sight, and upon reaching it, there may be some reluctance to get off. But even though it was exhilarating and you might not feel ready to move on just yet, you need to accept that it's time to surrender your seat so others can have their turn while you move on to check out the next attraction.

    I've gone through this school year hovering in a serious state of denial about my impending graduation. I know it's inevitable. College can't last forever—well, it can, but then you'll eventually become that awkward old person breaking it down at the bars. Despite all of my resistance, deep down I know that when the time arises, I will give up my seat on the ride and let the next person in line have a go at it.

    Or, on second thought, maybe I'll just take advantage of still being able to pass for a freshman and drive back to Albany every weekend, posing as a student so I can remain a regular at the Bayou. I'm still deciding.