| General Non-Fiction posted December 23, 2023 | Chapters: |
...15 16 -17- 
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Last Day of Quarter 1
A chapter in the book College Stories
Grand Finale: Parting Goodbyes
by RainbewLatte
A spark of inspiration and a sense of joy came over me as I was cleaning this morning as I prepared to move out of the dorm I moved into just twelve weeks ago.
Looking back, eleven weeks of school seemed like a long time. However, it truly flew by. I had said the same thing about high school, which was preceded by middle school, which was preceded by all the schooling before that. And, I have a tendency to delve into the bittersweet thoughts and feelings I feel in moments like these, which is always interesting because I can bet my bottom dollar that in the moment the process felt anything but short. No more projects, please, I would think. Another exam? I watched as work just kept compounding, but as time went on, all those feelings coalesced into what I should probably call the final outing of quarter one of my first year of college, signified by events like the last lecture of a class I’ll never take again with a professor I might or might not see again or even the last dinner I had with friends. Given that the last dinner I had with friends this quarter was preceded by my last Neuro1 lecture, which was also the class in which I met these friends, it felt bittersweet to the point of being sentimental.
Truth be told, they’re upperclassmen, and this felt like nothing short of a rare crossing. With the often cold and independent nature of most lectures or classes—go in, take notes, and leave—it was through this class that I truly felt like I made friends.
And, being upperclassmen, just simply further along the timeline than I ever will be (they’re always going to be a step ahead), I don’t know when we’ll ever take classes together again.
Besides, no one really knows where the next quarter will lead or what it will bring. It’s mostly a mystery at the moment, which is probably why this experience feels quite different than that of middle or high school. Beyond the sense of “gained independence,” or what my parents call “a false sense of independence,” living not all that far from home and being overly reliant on Safeway for most of my needs, not only is this simply the end of a quarter and not a school year (which rattles you with the words “THERE’S MORE”), but all I’m really doing is going home.
Finn will still be Finn when I return—the lofty (but not loftiest) dorm that most if not all undergraduates are jealous of, as they probably selected it as their first pick upon dorm registration as well, and the atrocity that is my workspace will likely still look the way it does now. If anything, it’s battling with the truth that all things must end. There’s an end and a beginning to everything, and sometimes it’s the ending of something that inspires another, and sometimes it’s the act of ending that keeps you moving along. Some might even choose to bug me about such pesky things before I head out the door with one too many bags, locking it upon exit as was required of me (even though the door sort of automatically locks), before heading for the elevator.
Upon arriving on the first floor, I struggle with my bags (five of them plus my laptop) as I kick and nudge my way out of the elevator in hopes that the door doesn’t just close on me as it has done many times before, before stopping by the Pokémon wall one last time.
It was just some weeks ago that I referenced this very wall (which has all the CFs and FD Chan Thai displayed as Pokémon cards) when the front door of Finn broke for the first of many times this quarter. Except, unlike the various other times the door broke, they had left the front door open rather than telling us, dorm residents, to head to the back door, which is why the front desk had asked me for my student ID before questioning me, asking questions like, “What floor do you live on,” “Which wing,” and “Who’s your CF?”
I could somewhat confidently answer the first two questions, but the last one caught me off guard. I couldn’t confidently name who my CF was, which is why I immediately headed for the wall, only to make it blatantly clear to those working at the front desk that I was struggling. I knew who my CF was, but I couldn’t recall her name. Em…
I scanned the wall, trying to find someone who looked like Emily, only for the front desk to let me go a moment later.
“You’re good. It’s fine,” they said, sort of laughing at my demise. Apparently, my struggle was enough to convince them that I did, in fact, live in a dorm named Finn.
The front desk’s empty now. And on the counter is a sign that reads, "30-minute vacuum rentals are available. Be back at 5 p.m.”
It’s only a little past 3.
Looking back, I almost don’t understand how I couldn’t recognize that that was Emily—the electric-type Pokémon with the special ability to “zone out.” With all the momentous memories we’ve shared, I can confidently say that it sounds like the sort of thing she’d write.
And sadly, I’m unable to wish her goodbye.
Apparently, exams on a Friday afternoon are a thing, even though it’s move-out day.
So goodbye, Emily.
Picking up my bags as I trudge out the door, I glance back at the dorm in its entirety once more, only for a sense of closure to overcome me. Many of the moments I experienced during my time here, within these walls, were ones filled with pain. Long nights felt never-ending, but ultimately, everything passed in the blink of an eye. Despite the struggles, there was always something to look forward to, and that’s what I want to remember about my first quarter of college. In this very dorm, a journey began that will soon continue, but until next quarter, be well.
A spark of inspiration and a sense of joy came over me as I was cleaning this morning as I prepared to move out of the dorm I moved into just twelve weeks ago.
Looking back, eleven weeks of school seemed like a long time. However, it truly flew by. I had said the same thing about high school, which was preceded by middle school, which was preceded by all the schooling before that. And, I have a tendency to delve into the bittersweet thoughts and feelings I feel in moments like these, which is always interesting because I can bet my bottom dollar that in the moment the process felt anything but short. No more projects, please, I would think. Another exam? I watched as work just kept compounding, but as time went on, all those feelings coalesced into what I should probably call the final outing of quarter one of my first year of college, signified by events like the last lecture of a class I’ll never take again with a professor I might or might not see again or even the last dinner I had with friends. Given that the last dinner I had with friends this quarter was preceded by my last Neuro1 lecture, which was also the class in which I met these friends, it felt bittersweet to the point of being sentimental.
Truth be told, they’re upperclassmen, and this felt like nothing short of a rare crossing. With the often cold and independent nature of most lectures or classes—go in, take notes, and leave—it was through this class that I truly felt like I made friends.
And, being upperclassmen, just simply further along the timeline than I ever will be (they’re always going to be a step ahead), I don’t know when we’ll ever take classes together again.
Besides, no one really knows where the next quarter will lead or what it will bring. It’s mostly a mystery at the moment, which is probably why this experience feels quite different than that of middle or high school. Beyond the sense of “gained independence,” or what my parents call “a false sense of independence,” living not all that far from home and being overly reliant on Safeway for most of my needs, not only is this simply the end of a quarter and not a school year (which rattles you with the words “THERE’S MORE”), but all I’m really doing is going home.
Finn will still be Finn when I return—the lofty (but not loftiest) dorm that most if not all undergraduates are jealous of, as they probably selected it as their first pick upon dorm registration as well, and the atrocity that is my workspace will likely still look the way it does now. If anything, it’s battling with the truth that all things must end. There’s an end and a beginning to everything, and sometimes it’s the ending of something that inspires another, and sometimes it’s the act of ending that keeps you moving along. Some might even choose to bug me about such pesky things before I head out the door with one too many bags, locking it upon exit as was required of me (even though the door sort of automatically locks), before heading for the elevator.
Upon arriving on the first floor, I struggle with my bags (five of them plus my laptop) as I kick and nudge my way out of the elevator in hopes that the door doesn’t just close on me as it has done many times before, before stopping by the Pokémon wall one last time.
It was just some weeks ago that I referenced this very wall (which has all the CFs and FD Chan Thai displayed as Pokémon cards) when the front door of Finn broke for the first of many times this quarter. Except, unlike the various other times the door broke, they had left the front door open rather than telling us, dorm residents, to head to the back door, which is why the front desk had asked me for my student ID before questioning me, asking questions like, “What floor do you live on,” “Which wing,” and “Who’s your CF?”
I could somewhat confidently answer the first two questions, but the last one caught me off guard. I couldn’t confidently name who my CF was, which is why I immediately headed for the wall, only to make it blatantly clear to those working at the front desk that I was struggling. I knew who my CF was, but I couldn’t recall her name. Em…
I scanned the wall, trying to find someone who looked like Emily, only for the front desk to let me go a moment later.
“You’re good. It’s fine,” they said, sort of laughing at my demise. Apparently, my struggle was enough to convince them that I did, in fact, live in a dorm named Finn.
The front desk’s empty now. And on the counter is a sign that reads, "30-minute vacuum rentals are available. Be back at 5 p.m.”
It’s only a little past 3.
Looking back, I almost don’t understand how I couldn’t recognize that that was Emily—the electric-type Pokémon with the special ability to “zone out.” With all the momentous memories we’ve shared, I can confidently say that it sounds like the sort of thing she’d write.
And sadly, I’m unable to wish her goodbye.
Apparently, exams on a Friday afternoon are a thing, even though it’s move-out day.
So goodbye, Emily.
Picking up my bags as I trudge out the door, I glance back at the dorm in its entirety once more, only for a sense of closure to overcome me. Many of the moments I experienced during my time here, within these walls, were ones filled with pain. Long nights felt never-ending, but ultimately, everything passed in the blink of an eye. Despite the struggles, there was always something to look forward to, and that’s what I want to remember about my first quarter of college. In this very dorm, a journey began that will soon continue, but until next quarter, be well.
The encouragement I received, particularly from Alexandra, who emphasized the importance of human connection, made this creative journey feel authentic and meaningful. So, a heartfelt thank you.
As my first quarter came to an end, the question of what would happen next and if Iâ??d continue became more significant. The uncertainty of whether I would continue weighed on me as I discovered a love for sharing, but I also couldnâ??t deny or discount the insurmountable challenges I faced in the process.
There were times I really struggled.
Considering the challenges of being a college student, I grappled with the balance between writing for myself and meeting external expectations, and it bothered me that I couldn't reconcile the two. But even if that balance is never found, I think thatâ??s okay. That, too, is part of the experience.
That, too, is a delight.
If anything, I hope to continue finding joy in life's simple pleasures, whatever and wherever they may be, big or small, and being able to write and share pieces about such mundane experiences has been the greatest reward.
As to what becomes of this written practice, I'll put my trust in time.
To my professors, CF Emily, lab TA Gabby, my mom, the supportive FanStory community, my best friend Katharine to the highest degree, and all the others who contributed, I extend this gratitude.
Special thanks to The Owl, Benson, and Mission Bakery, whose services played a crucial role in making this journey possible. And to you, the reader, thank you for accompanying me on this adventure.
And most of all, thank you, butter croissant. Without your spark, thereâ??d be no flame.
So thank you.
© Copyright 2024. RainbewLatte All rights reserved.
RainbewLatte has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
