The O’Collegian

I do not want to write this column. I am not entirely sure why.

Most likely, my reluctance springs from some combination of writer’s block, the pressure of finals week and a lack of things to write about.

Still, I believe it has something to do with the fact that this will be my last column. I graduate Friday and — unlike the last time I graduated — the real world beckons.

I have become absurdly nostalgic about my college experience over the past few days. Every time I do something essential to the college lifestyle, I wonder if it will be my last.

I took my last test today. I finished my last paper on Monday. The last time someone asks me — yet again — what my major is… to be determined.

In the movie “Kicking and Screaming,” (not the Will Farrell movie) one of the main characters notes the odd identity crises that graduation impose on us.

He opines, “Eight hours ago, I was Max Belmont, English major, college senior. Now I am Max Belmont who does nothing.”

This dialogue always struck me as particularly truthful. Graduation is exciting, but it marks an identity changing transition.

Max’s crises involved losing the sense of accomplishment that college provides even for people who spend most of their time drinking and talking about nothing. But everyone’s identity shift differs.

Today, I am Kurt Amend. A guy who stays up way too late to watch banal TV shows. Today, I am a guy who has time to read books. Today, I am a guy who (mistakenly) thinks it is funny to have an “Operation Dumbo Drop” poster on his wall.

In a month, who knows what I will be. My identity is sure to change, and it is unlikely that it will include “The OC” or ironic posters. For the past seven years, I have measured my success by my ability to avoid waking up before noon.

It would take a small miracle to successfully continue using this measure of accomplishment.

So, I am reluctant to write this column because every time I do something for the last time, it makes the transition feel more final.

Subconsciously, I believe that if I do not write this column, I can always remain Kurt Amend, political science, graduate student. But that is not the case. Graduation is coming.

Thus, I ignore my subconscious desire to not finish and implore you to take advantage of what you have and what I will miss the most. I will miss the readily available friends with flexible schedules. I will miss the almost constant supply of pick-up basketball games.

I will miss the springtime when college girls look inexplicably more attractive than any other time of year. I will miss Preacher Bob. I will miss college sports where it is socially acceptable for thousands of students to gather and act like idiots if only it will help their team win.

I will miss the professors who despite the mostly negative disposition of the students, still find a way to inject their passion into the classroom. I will miss Gallagher-Iba Arena. I will miss the conversations in which asking someone what they would do for a million dollars is not considered inappropriate.

I will miss the walk across campus. I will miss seeing people randomly going through the awkward social calculus of deciding whether to say hello and computing just how long you should talk to them before you seem weird.

Most of all, though, I will miss my identity as a student and the freedom that it included. I am Kurt Amend and in three days, I will do nothing.