New MCG's

I woke up this morning with a huge lump in my throat that I couldn't soften. I tried and tried but it wouldn't budge.

It may have been because it was 4:30 IN THE MORNING and I had only gotten two hours of sleep. But there I was, awake, unable to shake the sadness and semi-fear of what was to come: orientation crew. Some of you reading this may be thinking that I am not only on drugs but that I have reached the prime state of paranoia and social anxiety. But it wasn't because I was afraid of the people. It was this whole battle with time thing that had me anxious.

We welcomed the class of 2014 this morning. Twenty-fourteen. 20fourteen. Twenty14. Twentyfourteentwentyfourteentwentyfourteen. And my heart was breaking a little bit. See, I remember moving into Meredith. I remember not being able to sleep, having stalked everyone I had "friended" on Facebook the night before, running into the garage at 2:30 in the morning, making sure that I had packed my light blue bin with the clear lid with all of my books and that I had not forgotten shampoo, soap, or my favorite faded flip-flops with a huge picture of Snoopy on the right shoe. I remember the actual move-in day itself, stuffing my car to the gills to the point where I couldn't see anything when I was moving in, to the point where if I was about to switch lanes on the highway, I would put on my blinker for a full two minutes, say the Lord's prayer, and jerk my wheel to the right, straight on to exit three Hillsborough, turning left at the light, going straight for a couple feet, and then making my final left turn into the front drive...where I was greeted by a slew of fabulous ladies all screaming, "Welcome to Meredith!" and telling me to honk my horn. I remember how my dad and I tag-teamed and took a box of clothes up to my room, only to have the bin crack and explode a plethora of colorful bras all over the second Heilman stairs. I remember meeting Megan and Carolyn and Brittany and Caroline and Tricia and having Danielle teach me how to "walk it out" that night. I remember it all.

I cried all the way to my beloved Meredith today, because it really and truly hit me: I am a senior. I will be leaving after this year. This is my last orientation crew. I will know the class of 2014 for exactly one year...and then I leave.

It scares the curls out of me, sometimes, knowing that next year I'll be driving good old Leo the Geo up to New York, where I will probably still over-pack my car and still put my blinker on and give other drivers a fair warning before Leo makes his move. It scares me knowing that I will not see my friends, my sisters, really, for a long time.

And yet.

Though I had a mini-breakdown that included a lot of ugly crying and blowing my nose on a random sock that I found in my car (sometimes ya do what ya gotta do, okay?), I had a blast today. Even though it was five o'clock, being with all of my friends and getting ready to greet the new freshies was just so exciting and made my insides brim with adrenaline. When it was time, we donned our sandwich board signs, held up our cookie sheet and silver tongs, cranked up the music, and started screaming. The reactions we got varied...some girls looked petrified, others excited. The boyfriends were the best, though. Michelle Cox would play good cop, bad cop, gently waving them through the circle with her tongs, and then when they got close, she would pound on her cookie sheet and bellow into their windows, "WELCOME TO ME-RE-DITH!" coupled with the classic guy bark. I really thought I would wet my pants.

Every senior that I ran into would give me a hug and then we'd exchange a look that only we understood. The feeling that it would soon end, but that surely in the end, it would all be okay. Regardless, I have never seen my campus lovelier today.

Class of 2014, welcome to Meredith. I hope you love this campus just as much as I have, and that it is just as phenomenal to you as it has been to me. I hope you fumble through your first Corn but get incredibly excited for the next. I hope you go on late night Cookout Runs. I hope you figure out that the showers have a habit of going from lukewarm to burning hot to ice-drop cold in a matter of seconds. I hope you have run-ins with the geese. I hope Jean Jackson asks you randomly to quote memory lines...in public. I hope you grow into yourself and begin to see that you are actually pretty great. I hope you love your friends to the point that it hurts. And I hope you have a lot of pride in this school. Class of 2014...welcome home.

Signs

I'm all about some signs. Like if I'm having a horrible day and suddenly I see a sliver of sunlight in the sky? I think, "WHOA, SNAP. THERE'S YOUR SIGN." I didn't used to think much of them...and then I came to college. And soon, whenever I began to question what it is I wanted to do or how to get from point A to point B, something would happen. Nothing major...no huge explosions or a wizard man appearing in my glass of water or anything. But still, they would make me wonder.

A few days ago I was hit with a DOOZY. The best kind of doozy I could possibly ever encounter. I was running on the trail at Meredith, listening to my Ipod, contemplating my life after this year. I've been feeling really unsteady about that. The excitement is there, but the number of changes that are going to occur have been making me a little tense. I've been wondering if there's even a shot for me up in NYC; I needed to clear my head, so to the trail I went. One ear in my headphones has been shot, so it doesn't work anymore, so my left ear was being serenaded by Ludacris' "My Chick Bad." It was a little gray outside. All of a sudden, I heard this very twangy, but very sweet voice:

"Hi! Hi. HI!"

I about jumped a foot in the air. I looked up...then I looked down. Right beside me, power-walking like there was no tomorrow, was a petite woman with long blond hair, cartilage piercings, extremely taut muscles, and a blue walking suit. Oh, and she almost came up to my shoulders. Did I mention she was petite in every sense of the word?

She admired my Meredith shirt (the one with the shoe on it), and proceeded to tell me that she was stressed out about one of her daughters. Her daughter was a dancer who was nervous about heading to North Carolina School of the Arts to study on a full scholarship and-

"Shut the front door!" It was my turn to freak out. "I went there for acting once! And I loved it! LOVED. IT."

And suddenly I had a walking buddy.

We were walking and talking about how her daughter was so scared to start this new chapter and that all she wanted to do was be a ballet dancer like her 91-year-old great-grandmother who did a dance at church and went down in a split in front of the congregation (she was talking a mile a minute and let me tell you, I was so entertained) and how it would be so easy to do the "practical" thing but that the heart wants what it wants.

The heart wants what it wants. I stopped walking for a moment. There I was,on the trail beside a mother who really could've passed for a college student, sweating like no other, hearing exactly what I needed to hear from a complete stranger. She was so warm and was immediately taken when I said that I was a theatre and English major. I confessed that sometimes it seems like it would be easier to be "practical" and do something like law or even go to grad school, but she immediately shut me up.

"You could never do that."

"Well, why?" I replied, feeling a little insulted at first.

"Well," She said simply with that Southern twang. "It's not what you want to do, honey child. You want to act. It's in your blood like dancing is in my daughter's. And it is just so cool that you want to take a risk and do something like that and if you keep on being smart like you seem to be, you will be just fine."

"Like me," She continued. "I was a nurse for years and delivered lots and lots of babies. But do you know what I wanted to be all along?"

"What?"

"A yoga instructor!" She said with a flourish (ah, so THAT'S how she got those phenom muscles!). "Yes, I did, yes, I did, I did all of those sun salutations and took two hundred and forty hours of training and am now loving my life."

Well how about that?

"I feel like it's a blessing that I met you," She told me. "What a nice walk it's been!"

Really, I felt like picking her up and squeezing the life out of her. I was her blessing? Switch that around, please.

"Whatever you do," She was beginning to run the opposite direction. "Never give up!"

And then it was suddenly sunny on the trail and I felt like I had broken through a million surfaces.