This is me doing stats.
Clearly.
Last night I was taking a stats test (just a little test, worth about 1/3 of a percent of my final grade), and it had 4 parts. Part 1, state the problem. Part 2, formulate a solution. Part 3, solve it. Part 4, draw a conclusion. Apparently that's pretty standard procedure for stats, but I wouldn't know. I'm only taking the class because it was either that or 16 credits of language.
Anyway, I started on that test, and I stated the problem. It was something to the effect of finding out if this machine thingamajigger was producing metal rods that were the correct width, or if they were too wide. Then I figured out how I would solve it (roughly 378 steps and way too much reliance on a calculator I don't know how to use). Then it came to Part 3.
3: Solve - Well, if I calculate the number of days I have left until graduation and use that to divide the number of these quizzes I have left to take, then factor in the fact that I got good grades on the first two midterms and only need to pass the final from here, I come to a definite conclusion.
4: Conclude - I don't have time for this.
Yes, that was the answer I turned in.
Basically, mentally and emotionally, and everything except physically, I'm done with school! Really, five years later, I'm graduating. I have yet to send out (or even take the pictures for) my graduation announcements, and I still need to decide if I'm really going to dig into my savings and fork out the money for an awesome class ring, and I have no clue HOW I'm going to pack all my crap into my limited number of boxes when I move in 4 weeks, but it doesn't matter.
Because I'm done.
All in all, it's been an incredibly interesting experience. I've had awesome teachers and asinine teachers and boring teachers and crazy drill-sergeant teachers and classes I only took because BYU made me, and classes I took because they added absolutely nothing to my major, my life goals or any other part of my future, but I just really wanted to take them. I've had the experience of wanting to start a riot against BYU's dress code and pin down the nearest creeper with a hideous mustache and shave his lip, then have everyone else grow a "Brother Brigham" beard (all chin and no stache) to "honor BYU's history" and show whoever won't change the currently irrelevant facial hair policy that they're stupid.
I have to say, it's been a ride.
I've experienced a lot. The biggest lessons learned have come from the people around me. Even though I complain about BYU culture and the ridiculous grooming standards, there are aspects to this school that make it exactly where I need to be. There is a general set of standards that give guidelines in conflict resolution and an inherent sense of community. I've never had to worry about being pressured into breaking my standards, and having a high moral code is seen as a good thing, rather than an attempt to be all stuffy and self righteous. I feel like I don't have to put up my walls here. People can see more deeply into who I really am and they'll be okay with it. I'm not "the Mormon" anymore, because, well, pretty much everyone around me is Mormon.
I've learned what it means to live with someone who is hard to live with. As a teenager, I always thought I could get along with anyone who wasn't Satan. Heh. I was soooo naive. I'd only ever lived with my family before, and I really like my family. I mean, REALLY like my family. I've discovered there are traits I can't stand, and I've learned that there can be someone I can't stand, whom I come to utterly adore after I learn who they are beneath the bits that used to annoy me. And the funny thing is, those bits don't annoy me at all anymore.
I've learned I'm not as wise as I thought I was. Even if I can analyze a person and figure out they're engaging in a self-destructive behavior, I'm not going to inspire them to change it. In fact, they probably don't need to change it when I notice it. They probably need to be working on something else, and I need to keep my nose to myself.
I've learned a new kind of loneliness. It's not the social loneliness I would sometimes feel as a teenager, but a much deeper, almost painful longing for the family relationships I don't have all around me anymore. I have friends that I love and who love me, roommates I call sisters, but it can never be quite the same. I've been given a real understanding of something my mom always said: "Friends may come and go, but family will always stay the same." It's true. There are people I've loved, people I never thought I could live without, and they've moved on. I've moved on too. I still love them. If they ever needed me I'd be there in a heart beat. But I don't know exactly what they're doing, and I have no inclination to always remember what's in their lives when I find out, the way I am with my brothers and my parents. My family will always be there, even though I don't have them right here, right now.
I've been pushed to my limits. I've found out what I can and can't take, physically and emotionally. I've learned that even when I'm at my limit, I can handle it with grace if I remember being strong is better than thinking to myself how hard it is.
And I've learned some amazing things. Like, politicians have been fighting like little girls since the beginnings of politics, and history can be hilarious if told with the right amount of zest. I've learned that getting a degree in English, specifically literary analysis, shouldn't get you a BA. It should get you a BS... a big, smelly BS, because that's what it takes to pass the classes... which is what makes them so fun. Really! Anything goes! Before I decided I didn't want to be an English major, I made up a load of crap and got an A! Apparently my crap showed "inspiration." I also learned, oh, you know, just some little career-oriented skills I plan to use FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. Let's not forget what college is for, right?
The most important thing I've learned, is what it feels like when God says, "Yes." I never knew that when I was younger, probably because I never had anything that important to ask. At least, not that I needed an immediate answer to, that the answer to was also yes (I learned "no" 3 years before coming to school). I learned what it feels like to question everything you used to believe in, to have to get down to the very core of your belief system and wonder if it's all just the result of years of lingering tradition, superstition and ancient people trying to explain things they didn't understand. It's a frightening place to be, especially for as long as I wandered there. And I learned what it feels like to get an answer. To not just realize, but know, that God really is out there, and that He really loves me as His daughter. I learned what it is to have that one moment, that one instant where everything is solid, and you understand perfectly, and even though you can't remember exactly what it felt like later, you know it wasn't your imagination, because your imagination can't conjure that feeling. You write it down, and you hold onto in forever, because God told you He was there, and you know it's true.
Five years later, I've met some amazing people, learned some amazing things, and had some incredibly amazing experiences.
When all is said and done, I'm glad I came.
