TCU Daily Skiff Tueday, April 13, 2004
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Memories last, but it’s over
Jessica Sanders is a senior news-editorial journalism major from San Antonio.

I think I am getting old.

I am developing all the symptoms of senior-ness: The smell of Ramen noodles makes me ill. A trip to Target means groceries, not an evening’s entertainment. I see freshmen hanging out at the Student Center and wonder why they’re not doing their homework.

Yes, it’s sad but true. I have outgrown college.

All I want is a home of my own, where I don’t have to load up all my possessions every May and carry them across the state in my beloved Buick. I need a permanent spot for my license plate collection, a residence where I can use candles responsibly and keep a pet that doesn’t live in a bowl. I’m ready for the next chapter of my life.

With all this said, I can remember so clearly the day my parents dropped me off three years ago. As a transfer student, I felt that the hearty welcome for freshmen was not for me. I felt misplaced. All I wanted was to go home and return to my safe life at the University of Texas at San Antonio. I sobbed embarrassingly as I watched my family’s minivan disappear down University Drive. Twisting my soggy Kleenex in my hands, I began to believe that I had made the greatest mistake of my life.

I was wrong. I thank God every day that I came here, that I made it through three years and that He sent me a wonderful bunch of friends and supporters to help me out. My life really has been changed by my time at TCU, I’ve grown so much emotionally and spiritually that I barely remember the brokenhearted transfer student I used to be. In my time here, I got a fake tattoo and passed it off as real, won a few syrup-drinking contests, sang some Motown karaoke and took advantage of happy hour buffets. This is the part where I say thanks to Aunt Beth, Chrystal, Betsy, Erin, Vicky, Allison, Kelly, Sarah K., Sarah C. and many others who made my life at TCU an adventure (and sometimes a slapstick comedy).

I’ve gotta say that college would have been a lot more fun if not for class, but I got a lot out of the academic part, too. I have learned about everything from ballet to media ethics. I became a better writer than I ever thought possible, finished projects I never thought would get done, and took on jobs I didn’t remotely understand (news editor at the Skiff, for example). I owe a hearty thanks to Dr. Horvit, Phil Record, Dr. Perry and Dr. Ferrell (to name just a few) for making class interesting, instead of painfully boring. I’ll be talking about your classes for years.

In May I will walk across the stage, in a robe so purple it would make a grape blush. My aunt is coming from Arlington, my parents are getting their car fixed so they can drive up from San Antonio and my grandpa is flying in from San Diego. After the ceremony we will have a nice dinner and haul all my stuff away. And that will be it for my college career.
I always expected to know what I wanted to do when I graduated. I thought I would have a secure job and a future that was clear. Well, none of these things have come to pass.

But how many graduates can say they know how to pick out transmission fluid or understand both Macs and PCs? How many people do an amusingly bad Strongbad impression or tell really lame jokes with overwhelming confidence? Yes. For what it’s worth, I can do these things. I am hoping that’s what it takes to be a grown-up, because I need to get away from Ramen noodles.

 
 
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