As the semester comes to an end and our beloved mascots begin to become a nuisance to campus picnics, two things are clear: the weather is too hot (I never thought I’d say that in Rochester), and a senior class will retire from its undergraduate college days to make room for incoming freshmen. Now if you’re anything like me, which I’m assuming you are but not really for any specific reason, you are reflecting on the past year wondering where the time went. Well, analyzing the past is a little bit of pain since I have found it really, really hard to change. So moving forward, for some of us more than others— specifically those graduating—I figured it’s time for some slightly credible advice from a graduate of two years (of high school).

I remember that in the movie “Dodgeball,” White Goodman talked about his painting and explained that he liked to take life by the horns. Moving forward, I don’t really know if that’s the best advice: the only horns I really can think of in my life are the horns on the bulls in cattle farms which are driven by once in a blue moon. Being realistic, if the endgame of this nice little bit called college was to work with bulls and try to take them by their horns, I feel like there are easier ways to accomplish this. I mean, I guess if you’re really into cattle farming it’s a solid option, but personally I’m probably allergic to hay, cattle and maybe pollen— but that’s besides the point. I think better advice would be to try and really conquer whatever challenges life throws at you.

Someone once told me to shoot for the stars, and, if worse comes to worst, you’ll hit the moon. A couple of thoughts come to mind when thinking about this: why do I want to be among the stars or on the moon? I feel like it’d get lonely in space, and I am pretty happy on Earth. Additionally, what exactly is being shot? If it’s me personally, one would have to imagine that traveling at such high velocities to break Earth’s gravitational field must cause all kinds of troubles with one’s sinuses and such. Personally, I am going to stick right here on Earth and just try accomplish the most I can on land, like with oxygen.

A final thought is relating or attempting to relate unknown experiences to the ones which individuals are living. Everyone always seems to think that the grass is much greener on the other side. If this past winter was an indicator of anything, this cannot possibly be known. Think about it: our grass was almost always covered

in snow. If physics and chemistry have taught me anything, I think it has to be that Schrodinger would assume the grass to be half living—or green—and half dead. If we can’t even determine how green our own grass is, how can we determine if someone else’s grass is greener? Also, referencing an art class I took once in middle school, I think that green is just a combination of blue and yellow. And realistically, it is subjectively and objectively true that coming from UR has already set you up with the best shades of yellow and blue. So, the grass—moving forward—will definitely be green.

It’s weird to think about how next October, when graduating seniors and senior citizens alike visit for a weekend, you will both be classified the same: alumni. Good luck to the class of 2015.

 



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