There are three things you should know about me:

1. I am a senior.

2. I don’t have a job lined up for next year, nor have I made any valid attempts to find one.

3. Despite my lack of future plans, I am not suffering from any form of nervous breakdowns, ulcers, panic attacks, existential crises, etc. I am just fine, thank you.

Does that make me strange? I’m beginning to wonder. My friends tell me not to worry about the vast and scary real world looming ahead of me. But alas, their pep talks lose validity when I see them, decked out in requisite business suit and blue collared shirt, grinning sheepishly as they head off to yet another recruiting session.

Am I the only one around here who still doesn’t know exactly what investment bankers and consultants do all day long? Am I the only one who truly doesn’t know the difference between J.P. Morgan and Morgan Stanley? Am I the only one who walks a little faster when I pass the career center? I hope not.

I may be alone in this, but I have no desire to spend my last semester at Georgetown completely immersed in planning the rest of my life. The future will be here soon enough. By spending my days in pursuit of the perfect career opportunity, I am quite certain I will miss out on all the magic of my senior year. College, as we have all figured out by now, is an indescribable, unimaginable, zany, emotional, silly, scary and incredibly fulfilling journey that we can take only once. Most of us have only four years to experience this city, this university, this amazing opportunity for growth and change. And frankly, I don’t want to waste one moment – I don’t want to miss a thing.

The thought that I was voted “Most Likely to Succeed” in high school makes me chuckle these days. Aaah, if only my former classmates could see me now. I am certainly not the highest ranked student around here. I will definitely not be making six figures at any point in my lifetime, barring some miraculous act of God. My GPA isn’t bad, but it’s not perfect. And as I’ve said, my motivation to secure steady employment for next year is pretty much nonexistent.

But I’m no slacker. Not by any means. And I wouldn’t change one thing about the way I’ve spent my time at Georgetown. My choices may not land me a cushy job next year, but they have given me a priceless wealth of memories and experiences that I will carry with me always.

I’ve stayed up way too late talking to good friends. I’ve spent quiet moments sitting in Dahlgren Quadrangle. I’ve logged many, many hours in Uncommon Grounds serving a caffeine-addicted student body (I can quite literally walk across campus, look at almost anyone and name their coffee beverage of choice – it is pretty scary). I’ve gotten to know professors as people, not just as faces at the front of the classroom. I’ve met some really amazing underclassmen as an RA. I’ve developed countless habits and rituals with my friends: late night Vittles runs, early-morning iced mocha breaks, monument walks, goofy study sessions, impromptu Tombs jaunts, kickboxing at Yates, the mayhem of New South theme night and retail therapy trips to M Street. I could go on and on. But the point is this is my very last semester to indulge in these special activities, to enjoy every nuance and detail of the college experience.

I’m looking forward to my future as a graduate – I’m sure it will be fun and rewarding. I’m sure I’ll find a decent job soon enough, maybe even before May arrives. But I will never be able to repeat my college days. And if I spend all my time rushing to recruiting sessions, hounding career councilors or constantly updating my resume, I will miss out on my last months here, my last chances to truly appreciate all that Georgetown has to offer and all the incredible people I’ve met here.

I have the rest of my life to find my dream job. But I only have 128 more days to be a Georgetown student. And I intend to use them wisely.

Besides, if all else fails, at least I know I can pour a mean cup of coffee.

Clare McMahon is a senior in the college.

Have a reaction to this article? Write a letter to the editor.

Comments are closed.