The Circle Game

And the seasons, they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down

We’re captive on the carousel of time

We can’t return, we can only look behind

From where we came

And go round and round and round

In the circle game

Life is a series of yesterdays, a string of memories appreciated in times of quiet reflection. We gaze at the past only to wish that we had held on, reveled in the moment, stayed present instead of propelling ourselves ahead. But we’re programmed otherwise. We’re programmed to feel unsettled when we stay in one place for too long.

Yesterday I graduated from college.

Today I am back home where I started.

Tomorrow I will start my life as an alumna, and then life as a working adult.

I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t hurt.

We’re programmed to feel unsettled when we stay in one place for too long. Four years went by in a blink. I should have held on, reveled in the moment, stayed present instead of propelling myself ahead. Four years and poof, over, just like that. College is now a series of yesterdays, a string of memories I appreciate in times of quiet reflection. But instead of feeling regret and sadness, I'm starting to realizing something exciting. These yesterdays will undoubtedly shape tomorrow. These yesterdays will shape today. All is not lost -- we carry our past with us as we forge ahead.

Life goes round and round and round. It's a circle game.

College is Almost Over: A Letter from My Freshman Self

May 6, 2009

Finals are amongst me. I haven’t packed up a thing and I am set to leave in 48 hours. My laundry is exploding from my laundry bag (I guess I’ll just wait to do it at home…). Posters that had served as camouflage for our barren white walls are torn down, rolled up, retired. And then it hits me—college is almost over.

            No, I am not a senior. I will not be attending the infamous commencement of 2009. I’m not transferring, not dropping out. I am a freshman (well, until tomorrow at least), and I realize that this journey I had only just begun is already mounting its end.

            A year ago I hadn’t surpassed the bubble that is my hometown. I was sheltered within the confines of my Stepford-ish suburbia, a town of perfect facades and ideal images. Conflict? Chaos? Turmoil? Crises? Not where I come from. Galas. Polo Matches. Farmers’ markets. That’s more like it.

            Then August came and the bubble as I knew it popped. I left home to settle into a new one—my home under the dome. Little did I know what the move would have in store.

            Freshman year has been a year of firsts, a year of transition, a year of change. Who I was in August is only the foundation of who I am today—a more mature, confident, and balanced version of the naïve 18 year old who had no idea how much she’d grow and change. I’ve learned what “well-rounded” really means—not that your resume covers every possible facet of human experience, but rather that you identify your true passions and pursue them, while holding those values and relationships you care most about close to your heart. We cannot walk this road alone, for it is a lonely journey without special people to share it with.

            But now this year is about to end. We will finish our exams and return to the homes where we came from eight months ago. For me, this could not be more bittersweet, as I truly consider the world I’ve entered here at ND to be my second home. I will go back to my town with a new vision, a greater awareness of what’s out there—of what makes life meaningful. And then I’ll return as a sophomore, already accustomed to campus and its way of life. The year will undoubtedly fly as it comes time to declare a major and think harder about the future. Junior year will hopefully entail a semester abroad, making time on ND’s campus especially limited, condensed. And then senior year will arrive, a year of lasts, goodbyes. Future plans deal with graduate schools, jobs, new residences—a gateway into the real world.

            Yes, college is almost over. Enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Katherine M. Lukas

Freshman, Lyons Hall

2011, Thanks for the Memories

I love New Year’s Eve. Always have. When I was little, I’d spend hours making homemade confetti in every color of the rainbow and would repeatedly promise my mother that I’d clean up every speck of cubed construction paper after my moment of midnight glory. Fast forward a few years and you’d find me banging pots and pans on the balcony of our Floridian condo synchronized to the beat of fireworks on the Gulf. I always wanted to learn how to play the drums. New Year’s resolution perhaps?

High school and college NYE celebrations have been a blur of cocktail dresses, champagne toasts, text-enhanced wishes for health, happiness, and prosperity, but most prominently, family. Just a year ago I sat alongside my grandmother, pretty in pink (she always liked pink), on her infamously comfy couch. It was my first New Year’s Eve “of age,” my first chance to take on home sweet Chicago as a legal, cocktail-worthy adult. My friends urged me to join in on their festivities. My heart said otherwise. This will be your last New Year’s Eve with her, just think about what the doctor said. She has three to six months. That’s it.

I’m glad I listened to my heart for once.

So, here I sit on the last day of 2011, and I find myself in a cliché state of reflection. I’m buried in stacks of New Year-related magazines, all titled with some derivative of “New Year, New You!” (I might gag if I read that headline one more time.) I guess I have myself to blame for buying them in the first place. Did I really expect US Weekly to have some life-changing advice for my year ahead? Well…maybe. The photos are entertaining at the very least.

The truth is, I don’t need a five-dollar People Magazine or a two-minute spot on the Today Show to tell me what defines the last 12 months of my life. Sure, there were “winning” moments and a “tiger mother” that made me appreciate my super-cool mum even more than I already do, but the more we try to define 2011 collectively, the more I realize how individual our past year’s journey has been.

For me, 2011 has truly been a coming-of-age year. It’s been a year of unbreakable friendships, a year of self-respect, and a year of paralyzing goodbyes—some that came like a thief in the night. But above all, 2011 has been a building year (and I’m not talking about Irish football), one that bridges the gap between surreal endings and hopeful beginnings.

So I ask you this: what does 2011 mean to you? What do you hope tomorrow will bring? No cheating now—the answer lies within you, and only you.