Amid the pictures of Bigelow Bash, when students started enjoying the first days of spring and began nearing graduation, my Facebook newsfeed became filled with nostalgic posts. I can smell the beer from the statuses screaming, “I’m drinking every night from now until graduation. Holla at me,” while others shed a few tears: “It is only when we become aware that our time is limited that we can channel our energy into truly living.” And the simplest status of all, “10 days!” 

The countdown began back at the 100-day mark and has now been reduced to hours, minutes and seconds. For me, this countdown is filled with the same giddiness a 4-year-old feels when watching “Frozen.” I’m excited to close this chapter, shut this door and put Pitt in my rearview mirror. 

Oh, come on. I know I’m not the only one.  

The University of Pittsburgh brochure, like every other brochure selling any experience, touts a promising, perfect four years ahead of each prospective student. But what they don’t advertise is that these perfect four years are not filled with perpetual positivity. We might have a great couple of weeks, months in a row or, if we’re lucky, a whole solid year without a major hiccup. We might be elected officers of our clubs or student organizations, score internships — good and bad — in which we learn a lot. We might sail through all four years with a high GPA, graduate with accolades and find the love of our lives. 

We might just have a bunch of great weekends with our friends. In the spring we might kick back on Soldiers & Sailors, basking in the two days of perfect weather before it dips back into the 40s before finally tucking ourselves in Sunday night, feeling like everything is right in the world. But these moments of high victory are fleeting. 

And they should be.  

I spent half of my freshman year in bed with scarlet fever and mono — yes, scarlet fever, the disease Beth from Little Women died from at 14 years old — and the other half pledging a sorority.

With the exception of a few constant faces throughout all four years I, like many people, chose to surround myself with people who understood, gave insight and were the right fit for that given moment in my life. While some people might walk away with a group of friends they connected with freshman year, most people will walk away with three, four or even five good friends from college. And I personally feel like that’s how it’s supposed to be. If you can’t let go of some pieces of your past, you won’t be able to march into the rest of your life without feeling a pang of nostalgia wherever you go.

We’ve all had some significant shifts in our lives in the past four years. While some experiences are not as relatable as others, the roller-coaster college experience is one we’re all riding together. 

To be honest, what I’ll remember most when I leave Pitt will not be my academic experience — with the exception of Peter Trachtenberg’s and Cindy Skrzycki’s classes. I know I’ll look back and see all of the major dips, but what I’ll see more glaringly will be the lessons I learned and the perspective I gained from them along with the friends, faculty and professors with whom I connected through the good and the bad.

My past four years were perfect because of their flaws. The paw prints indelibly left on me were stamped with conviction — some done carelessly in passing, some painfully seared over the course of several months and some delicately lain through moments of high victory. 

What we learn in the classroom might not entirely prepare us for the real world, but the scars we earn on the battlefield outside the Cathedral unquestionably do.

While many of my peers are already crying as we pick up our caps and gowns at Alumni Hall and Pomp and Circumstance begins to ring in our ears, I’m clicking my heels mid-leap and tossing my cap a bit prematurely.

I, like many seniors who are preparing for graduation, don’t currently have a job lined up. But I, unlike most, am OK with that. I’m teaching surf lessons for four months before I go to ski in the Colorado Rockies for six months. My plan might be unconventional, but I also recognize that I’m not done, nor am I ready to be done learning just because a diploma is placed in my hand.

Write to Julia at [email protected].