Honestly is there anything more cooler than Mill Murray not giving a fuck while steals a bike with a pair of bolt cutters? I really don't think so. Mill Murray just oozes je ne sais quois and a suaveness that only Mr. Murray seems capable of pulling off. I mean really how many of us can just hijack a bicycle and just walk away with the bike of our shoulder, not even caring if we were to get caught with it. It really is just such a baller picture. I almost wish that I could feel cool enough to do something like that or just not give a fuck to walk away with a bike. Unfortunately I have a stress issue when it comes to police authority and recently found two gray hairs on my head.
At 22 it feels a little early to be growing gray hair, but with a father who began shedding his hair line at 24 and a mother who has been dyeing to hide her own hair issues at an even younger age it's not exactly a surprise. Add in all of the compounded stress of the last four years and logically I should be nearly white on top by now. Graduation should be a time of joy a celebration, I remember watching my cousin finish her course load a few years ago and walk across the stage at her own December graduation. She was excited and energetic and proud of the work she had put in over the years. I don't feel any of that. I don't even want to go pick up my cap and gown from the bookstore. Fortunately I'm not alone. My friend Andi has yet to pick up her own cap and gown and my dear friend Slolly just wants to go home now and not look back. We have no desire to sit under the big white tent next to City Ave and listen for our names to be called out. I just want to go home and go to sleep for the next few weeks.
I had a language teacher in high school who stressed the importance of being more than just a drone who was defined by what they did for work. I remember sitting in a hotel common area in Greece with her and a few other people talking about life and getting better acquainted. I had one of the local stray dogs in my lap (completely unaware of the risks of ticks at the time) and I remember listening to my teacher tell us that too many people are defined by the jobs they do and not by the things they enjoy to do. I remember having a hard time separating the differences between the two ideas. Last week marked the third anniversary of my language teacher's passing and with graduation looming only weeks away I am starting to understand more of what she meant and how I've change since having her as a teacher. In college I put myself in situations I never would have imagined for myself and met all sorts of different people. When I left high school, I left with a bad taste in my mouth and with very few people I felt connected to. When I leave Philadelphia next month I will be leaving behind a whole slew of people from different backgrounds that I never would have had the pleasure of knowing if I hadn't come to college, including my best friend.
I'm moving home when I graduate with no job perspectives and no real life goal other than to just adjust to a new lifestyle and acclimate back into small town life. This time though I'm not leaving with a bad taste in my mouth or on bad terms with people as I had back in 2008. I'm ready to leave the city and return home because I'm not the same person I was when I left.
