I stayed for senior week and commencement for the first time this year, because so many of my close friends were graduating. I got home on Monday evening from Oberlin. I got sick on Tuesday afternoon. This isn't the first time that I've been seemingly healthy at Oberlin for months and come home to become some feeble, dependent insect feeding on my mother's cooking.
The romantic explanation is that oh, there's something in that hippie-scented air of Oberlin that just makes my blood circulate the right way. The truth is probably that I had too many wine parties in quick succession, and I've finally run into God's heavy hand of judgment. Too much celebration. Too much debauchery (just kidding, there was no debauchery). Too many toasts to my past, my present, and my future. Well, here's another one to my memories of senior week, as I raise my metaphorical overflowing container of frothy fancy beer.
To my yeopeople (not to mention yeomen and yeowemmyn) of the class of 2011: senior week was an excellent way to end our three-year relationship as Oberlin undergrads. Let's remember how we fried bacon together, played board games together, sat on roofs drinking tea together, along with all the times we spent panicking sleeplessly in the science center or ranting about failed relationships. I give you this half-eaten pork loin:
I made that during senior week. It was tastier than it looks, I promise. I am a bad photographer.
Like most things in this blog, the pork loin is a metaphor. It represents the world and the rest of our lives, or something. Class of 2011, let's eat the rest of it together.
I would eat pork loin with these people.
But it hasn't been too tearful. I've also been distracted. Yesterday, I had trouble doing anything because the air conditioning vents smelled like cat food. It turned out that actually my grandma had burned some soup she was making.
Also, I'm going to Hawaii tomorrow for an atmospheric physics research internship.