Making the most of next semester: a senior perspective

We all procrastinate. But there are certain things that, entering my last semester at Princeton, I have to confess I have put off for much longer than I should have.

First, there is the coffee date that never seems to happen. In theory, what could be easier than a meeting with a friend with whom I rarely intersect on my well-trafficked circle of social activity? Within a two-minute walk from my dorm, there are at least three cafes of varying quality. By the time you reach senior year, you may find that your group of friends is somewhat cemented, and the friendships that exist outside of your eating club can come to feel like long-distance relationships. You speak via e-mail, text messages, even instant messenger and, more often than not, the topic of conversation is how much you need to get together — yet it seems to never quite happen. Thinking of it now, as someone who may very likely be overseas by September, being able to go a week or two without seeing a friend I want to see, here on one of America's smaller campuses, is frightening.

Second, there is the extracurricular that never was meant to be. When I came to Princeton, I was under the illusion that I'd be in the best college rock band since The Postal Service, earning campus-wide acclaim and maybe even an indie record deal. That never happened, but, like most bright-eyed, idealistic freshman, I was still determined to experience everything. I was always hyperaware of the speed at which the college years would pass, even before I met my first roommate. Looking back on my freshman year, I have to laugh at the information sessions I attended for groups that I would never join — most of which I can't even imagine being a part of now. I couldn't let go of my illusions that I could do them all until, more regretfully than I'd like to admit, I succumbed to reality and unsubscribed from the multitude of e-mail lists I'd never actually need.

Third, there is the class we will never take. Only as a second-semester senior can I say authoritatively that I will never speak fluent Arabic or do my parents proud and suddenly discover my passion for molecular biology. For me, nothing felt final about my Princeton experience until now, when I had to come to terms with the things I will never learn. Of course, the learning process does not end with a one-way trip through the FitzRandolph Gate, but the all-inclusive, experimental aspect of it does. Now, if I want to learn Arabic, I'll have to pay for it out of pocket instead of just suffering through an extra-heavy course load for a semester or two. If I actually want to learn something, I have to be extremely sure that it is something I need to learn.

So where are we left, we lame ducks of the Class of 2007? For the first time, we will not look ahead to a life at Princeton: We will not select fall courses, we will not participate in room draw. It seems to me that we are each left with a choice: to make the most of the time we have left, or to voluntarily begin detaching ourselves voluntarily from the comforts of our home before we absolutely must.

In the end, I can't promise that I'll take all seven classes I am shopping — ok, I'll take no more than three. Nor can I tell you all to be on the lookout for my awesome band: My guitar has more dust on it than hands. The only thing I can promise is an e-mail or a text message, trying to get a hold of you for a coffee date — I prefer Small World, but I'm always up for something new. Rory Kress Weisbord is a senior comparative literature major from Philadelphia, Pa. She can be reached at weisbord@princeton.edu.