Learning to Live
I’m a part of this culture that never ceases to intrigue me–always finding a way to pull at my curiosity like a little kid tugging on the strings of a kite, striving to make if fly higher and higher.
I’m savoring every bit of this culture–this way of living–that embraces yoga pants like they’re the latest fashion and school pride like their very lives depended on it. We live on ramen noodles, endless cups of coffee and Chick-fil-A, and never let “impossible” be an option. We stay up late and get up early. We get projects done, we collaborate, we create, we grow.
I love living in a community of people who are confident enough in themselves to believe anything is possible. We have our own vocabulary and style and strut our stuff with pride. We ride bicycles in our best suits and ties for interviews and run furiously to catch the bus to our next class on the opposite side of campus. We pack the gym, buy frat tanks, and crank our music up way too loud. And we love every minute of it.
We’re all working towards a common goal–one final purpose. We all have a dream and a future. We work hard and laugh even harder. We scream wildly at football games, cry when we lose major rivalry games, and live boldly.
Sometimes we let our emotions overwhelm us….wondering what we’ll do at the end of these four years, trying to figure out the scope and sequence of our lives. But mostly, in the midst of all the chaos and confusion, we live…and live so fully.
I don’t want to lose this vigor and love for life after I am handed that diploma. I don’t want to let “impossible” become a word in my everyday language after I graduate. I want to hold tightly to the passion inside me. I’m holding tight to the memories I’m making while I’m in this culture of students, and allowing it to sink into the core of who I am.
Live. Breathe in life deeply. Enjoy those endless amounts of coffee. Stay up late. Get up early. Work hard. Love life. Really live.