Nostalgic AF

As of late, I've been nostalgic AF.

Much of it has to do with the fact that a year ago last week, I was handed what some people call a "diploma" and what I think of as an eviction notice. For the past month, I've been marking off "this time last year" anniversaries...

The two weeks we fondly refer to as "the best two weeks of our lives," last hurrahs where throwing caution to the wind and having a grand time seemed like the only option. Exams, projects, final papers, last lectures full of sage advice from professors. Bidding farewell to a time in our lives that was at once formative and transformative. Sobbing at the New Girl season finale, wailing but everything is going to change!!! The stress of moving boxes into storage, stuffing the car until it was bursting at the seams, four years of our lives right there. Leaving for Europe before we could truly process what was happening. We existed in an exhilarating state of chaos where every moment seemed profound and every day, monumental. 

(For more Wacky Walk costume photos, check this out.)

Last weekend, I appeared at Stanford graduation once again, this time not as a graduate but as a friend and alumni. I listened to poignant speeches, watched as proud parents beamed, felt goosebumps as each graduate crossed the stage, remembered the nerves and anticipation and the bit of sadness, too. The last two weeks this year has been calm–albeit busy–days at work, spontaneous weekend getaways, making grocery lists and trip-planning while SVU plays in the background.

As I clapped for and celebrated my friends, I also felt myself emerging triumphant on the other side. See, the thing about post-grad life... is that, for me at least, it hasn't been so exciting in the same way college was. The stress doesn't spike right when midterms come around, the weekends and evenings aren't so raucous, the lessons not as hard-hitting, and the victories don't come with the cheers from a built-in audience of 60 housemates.

And yet, the days since we moved out once and for all have runneth over with workplace lessons, personal growth, routine, restlessness, spectacular weekending, epiphanies across the world, satisfaction at a meal unburnt, and constant self-questioning. 

There is no hoopla when you mark off the one-year anniversary of graduating, just a heckuva overdose of Nostalgia and quite a few existential questions. You don't get a diploma for surviving relatively unscathed, no accolade or certificate. 
But maybe we all deserve one. (And some champagne, too!)
*Photo credit of the second to last photo goes to Condeleezza Rice's security team. Sorry I took you away from constant vigilance to take ever-so-important friendship photos for us from multiple angles.