Senior Syndrome

Entering my last year of college, something hits you like a brick: you'll never face anything like this again. Add on to that the fact that I could wind up in Omaha or Baghdad next year, what I do on the 1 train really does not make a difference.

Outside of my family, most people I know in my life, whether they be the boys I've hung out with since 5th grade or the close friends I've made at Emory, will not be with me. And my family has already seen the worse and the best of me anyway.

And in the midst of my boredom with my work, I have developed a few hobbies.

1) Singing out loud...really loud on the train. I whisper and I shout. I act like a hopeless romantic and a raging idiot. But with headphones on and eyes shut, I'm oblivious to anything except the 20,000 fans of screaming pre-teens with fake blood tears and metal mouths, accompanied by the fathers they do not want to be seen with.

2) I dance in the middle of Manhattan to these songs. As Baz Luhrman says in his masterpiece, "The Sunscreen Song," - "DANCE!" And dance I shall. Nothing beats dancing than with an unbrella in a soft drizzle amongst tourists. So I rock like Van Halen. And I twirl like Brian Litrell from BSB. And when there's really no one looking, I do the hokey pokey (I need to retain some dignity).

3) I smile to everyone. This has by far been the most challenging. I can already hear every Southerner say to him/herself, "By Billy Bob, I think he's got it!" But I'm not talking about the southern hospitality, smile to everyone and tip your cap, as you walk down the street kind of smile. I'm talking about a confident, beaming, almost flirtacious smile. I'm trying to develop a swagger about my life, and the results are quite entertaining. The men who tower over my 5'6" frame feel a little insecure. The women blush like they did for Jonathan Taylor Thomas (JTT!!!) in '94, Leo Dicaprio in '97, Colin Farrell in '01, and who is it now? I'm so off in this screaming girl pop culture thing.

No matter what I do to act like a complete idiot, however, there is the same the result. Cause at the end of the day, people look at my CNN ID, my button down solid shirt, my ironed slacks, my finely combed hair, my fresh odor, my leather shoes, and a beaming confidence. And despite the other oddities of "Say it ain't So"s and "Hip Hip"s, I am somehow more normal than the average subway rider.

I do have doubts with acting this same way back in the college campus though. But hell, I'm a senior! So who cares!