As I have been pondering what to
write about this week, I have been at a bit of a loss. Not because there haven’t been plenty of
things happening, but because I remember talking about them in past years. I remember writing a post about the English
Club Tea Party, and another about capture the flag during Greek Week, which is
tomorrow. So why would I write them
again? Isn’t it the same old, same old?
Nope, because I have entered the
dreaded season of lasts. Here are just a
few of the lasts that I’ve been noticing:
Last…English Club Tea Party.
I remember going to my first one at the home of Dr. Patricia Cleary
Miller, English professor and poetess extraordinaire, and being intimidated by
the entire English faculty as well has the abundance of authentic Chinese décor. This time I was cracking jokes with the
department chair and leading a group into the living room to sit by the
mummified ibis (yeah, she has one of those).
The legendary mummified ibis
Last…First Fridays…sort of.
I went to First Fridays down in the Crossroads art district, an event I
have been attending faithfully since October of freshman year. I can remember vividly what I wore to that
first First Fridays, the galleries we went to, who I went with, and how I
felt. This time wasn’t technically my
last First Friday, because on the First Friday in May, I will be curating my
own show downtown. If someone had gone
back to that girl I was freshman year in her yellow jacket and new/old thrift
store shoes (gotta look the part when you’re at First Fridays), and told her/me
that she would be attending her last First Fridays as a curator, she’d have
dropped dead.
In a month this space will be full of people coming to see the show of Rockhurst student art I am curating!
Last…edition of the Rockhurst
Review. After a week of minor
mishaps and a lot of editing, I think my beloved literary journal is ready to
hit the presses. Again, when I was
honored to be on the staff as a little assistant reader freshman year, I never
would have believed I’d someday be the one to say “looks great, Covington
Press, go ahead and print us up 70 copies.”
These events aren’t just one more
in a string of things I’ve been doing since freshman year, they are a measuring
stick for the ways I’ve grown and the new opportunities I’ve gotten. And while I’m sad that there are so many
lasts, it makes me kind of excited to wonder what things I will have done four
years from now that I never would have thought of. New York Times anyone? MoMA exhibitions? Who knows…
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