If graduation is approaching, why am I still dumb as dirt?

I take that back, because I remember my girlfriend Julie was there (and yes, she is real, not just one of those literary-device women made up to add character to a boring anecdote) and I blurted out my weird little epiphany. I told her, "I just had the weirdest little epiphany ... ."

Julie just said, "Huh? When did you come up with that?"

Wait, more of it's coming back to me, because I also remember one of my other friends, Herman, was there. (Herman? Yes he's real, how about showing a little trust for the ... Well, all right, you caught me. Herman is entirely fake, purely a figment of my imagination, basically created for a one-liner - what are you going to do about it?) All that Herm-man could say was, "Epiphany, yeah, I remember her, I had her record and my sister and I went to see her sing at the mall. Yeah, it was cool."

After explaining to my friend that an epiphany was a great realization, not a bubble-gum pop artist of the late 1980s, I tried to grab hold of what my sudden insight really meant. All Herman could say was, "Yeah, well, I don't think it was her I saw anyway, I always get her confused with Debbie Gibson. 'Electric Youth' and 'I Think We're Alone Now,' are basically the same song, it's a mistake anyone could make."

My apologies to you, the reader. I guess I have digressed a little - you probably want to know what this amazing, life-defining synapse fire really was, don't you? Brace yourself, because here it comes.

This is my third year of college.

No really, that's it. This is my third year of college - that was the cranial thunderbolt that sparked me to write this column.

I suppose I should explain why this is so important. For the sake of clarity let me show you roughly in the form of a seventh-grade mathematical proof.

Given: This is my third year of college.

And given: I am graduating this May after only three years of undergraduate education.

Then: I am missing out on an entire year of college life, basically throwing it away - cashing it in on an extra year of adult responsibility.

Therefore: I am a class-'A' moron.

It took me three years to figure that out; I think I deserve a refund from that advanced placement credit company because they told this University I was smart and I am just a stupid schmuck. If all those credits I had coming in as a freshman were really worth anything, I would have known that U of M - and I suspect all college campuses - are anomalies of physics. An undergraduate education is the only known thing in the universe that passes by faster than the speed of light - blink once and its gone.

Sure, I can remain a student, go to grad school, study abroad or whatever, but it isn't the same, because my path is already in motion and it's leaving Ann Arbor in about eight months.

I am scared that I am going to miss out on something; that I have not maximized my time in Ann Arbor to its fullest. Around every corner lies the possibility of something I'll regret. Maybe it's just a restaurant I always meant to eat in, a person I meant to get to know better, a class I should have taken, a book I should have read (and several I should have returned for a complete refund).

I guess I could have lived here all my life and still be worried about missing out on something, but I still feel kind of pressured to pack a whole lot into the next several months. Just last week, I went to the Arb for the first time. It was something I always meant to do and just never made the time for until last week. As far as southeastern Michigan goes, it's absolutely gorgeous - the river, all the trails, trees and wildlife - I hate to think that I easily could have detoured my college career around that experience for a Lions game or "South Park" re-runs.

In the long run, I doubt I'll regret the three-year plan, but I would never recommend it to anyone. My advice: Slow down, smell the fragels, say hi to post-card man (maybe even learn his name), canoe at Gallup Park on a Sunday afternoon in October, walk to East Hall and tell everyone walking in that the building's real name is East Engineering.

Basically, enjoy yourself while you're here and go at your own pace. When you finish, I am sure the rest of your life will still be waiting. If only a handsome yet humble Daily columnist had reached out to me earlier in my college career (sigh) and shared with me the endless possibilities of blowing off a senior year.

- Paul Serilla can be reached over e-mail at pserilla@umich.edu

Paul Serilla

Serilla

Warfare

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10-03-97