Labios compartidos, labios divididos
It's been a full year since I last posted to this blog, and since then, a number of things have changed.
I made it to Beijing and Rio. I wrote my senior thesis, tallying 116 pages (134 with bibliography). I finally opened up to the Princeton experience to a certain degree (read: I turned 21 and was able to enjoy drinks at Triumph and the Alchemist and Barrister).
The most important change, though, is that I now have a diploma to my name.
"I stressed, I sang, I survived," as my 6-word memoir recounts (oddly enough, it made it into the Class Day program). Princeton is over and it's hard to believe that this time last week I was still in the thick of Reunions revelry. It seems terribly distant: the muddy haystacks that became the floor of the 5th and 10th reunions, the inebriated haze that became my vision, and the dancing. Oh, the dancing. Every person whom I made uncomfortable with my borderline obscene moves (love you, Mel and Nuni), specifically at the 25th reunion on Thursday night--it was worth it. Illustrious dance partner, should you ever read this, you are awesome--let's own the night again at Reunions 2013, or sooner.
Now as I unpack in hopes of packing again to head to Boston or New York to pursue full-time employment, it's beginning to hit me that graduation is a one-time thing. As my Latin American History professor, Jeremy Adelman, put it: you can always start over, but you can't end over. The Princeton experience is over, but I'm hoping the strings that I've tied together in the past year will bear the weight of time and distance. I have had a few friends who have been with me throughout my time at Princeton, but it was senior year when I met a great deal of awesome people with whom I had associated very little or not at all before then. Naturally, it was too late to nurture some of these friendships, but others I was very fortunate to have founded successfully. It also doesn't hurt that many of the people to whom it would have been hardest for me to say goodbye will be in the tri-state area this summer and likely will get employed in New York (TFC, get it going, love!)
The title of this post is inspired by one of my favorite Mana songs, which I heard when I went to dinner with my family tonight down at the Shore. Graduating Princeton, I feel myself pressed between the lips of past and future. A delicate send-off and signature, before the inevitable separation and the pain it brings. All the while romantic (in the Lord Byron sense, but the rom-com sense, too).
I will probably be using this blog as a journal as I soul-search and try to find my way in the world this next year. To all you who read this, beijos galore and thanks for supporting me on the journey.
I made it to Beijing and Rio. I wrote my senior thesis, tallying 116 pages (134 with bibliography). I finally opened up to the Princeton experience to a certain degree (read: I turned 21 and was able to enjoy drinks at Triumph and the Alchemist and Barrister).
The most important change, though, is that I now have a diploma to my name.
"I stressed, I sang, I survived," as my 6-word memoir recounts (oddly enough, it made it into the Class Day program). Princeton is over and it's hard to believe that this time last week I was still in the thick of Reunions revelry. It seems terribly distant: the muddy haystacks that became the floor of the 5th and 10th reunions, the inebriated haze that became my vision, and the dancing. Oh, the dancing. Every person whom I made uncomfortable with my borderline obscene moves (love you, Mel and Nuni), specifically at the 25th reunion on Thursday night--it was worth it. Illustrious dance partner, should you ever read this, you are awesome--let's own the night again at Reunions 2013, or sooner.
Now as I unpack in hopes of packing again to head to Boston or New York to pursue full-time employment, it's beginning to hit me that graduation is a one-time thing. As my Latin American History professor, Jeremy Adelman, put it: you can always start over, but you can't end over. The Princeton experience is over, but I'm hoping the strings that I've tied together in the past year will bear the weight of time and distance. I have had a few friends who have been with me throughout my time at Princeton, but it was senior year when I met a great deal of awesome people with whom I had associated very little or not at all before then. Naturally, it was too late to nurture some of these friendships, but others I was very fortunate to have founded successfully. It also doesn't hurt that many of the people to whom it would have been hardest for me to say goodbye will be in the tri-state area this summer and likely will get employed in New York (TFC, get it going, love!)
The title of this post is inspired by one of my favorite Mana songs, which I heard when I went to dinner with my family tonight down at the Shore. Graduating Princeton, I feel myself pressed between the lips of past and future. A delicate send-off and signature, before the inevitable separation and the pain it brings. All the while romantic (in the Lord Byron sense, but the rom-com sense, too).
I will probably be using this blog as a journal as I soul-search and try to find my way in the world this next year. To all you who read this, beijos galore and thanks for supporting me on the journey.