On The Pitfalls Of Living In The Past

Have you ever taken a moment to read the historical markers around campus? Living at North Halls in my freshman year, I was always walking anywhere else, and I’d read these signs as I’d go — advances in mushroom science, the pioneering of calorimetry, producing deuterium for the first time, developing combinatorial mathematics — lots has happened on this campus in its 170 years of existence.

On my first day of class freshman year, I read the marker outside of the Osmond Lab: “ATOM FIRST SEEN.” I’d go to my introductory physics lecture to watch the professor demonstrate conservation of momentum with a bowling ball strung up to the ceiling and think about how weird it was that I was learning this in the same building professor Erwin Mueller used to develop his field ion microscope. In Osmond, I learned the basics of calculus, all the while ghosts just down the hall were taking the first pictures of the building blocks of our universe.

In those classes, and especially in quantum physics, I became stuck on this idea that this frame of reference — State College — was special in some way, and if I was struggling, I could just rewind the clock to look for answers. Somewhere on this campus, at some point in time, someone was feeling the exact way I was and got through it. Moving through this frame of reference on that time axis, someone was in the Stacks cramming for an exam in a class they hadn’t understood for weeks, processing a breakup on a late-night walk through Hort Woods, lost on their way to a tailgate lot without a cell phone for directions… It’s all happened before. And this was a nice crutch to lean on for my first year or so as I learned how to navigate college.

But the more I looked backward, the more I realized that I had been traveling a path without looking ahead to what was at the end. Imagining these scenes, certain that everything had happened before and worked out, had cheapened what was taking place at that moment in time. Celebrating an IM volleyball win with my teammates in my dorm, packing Beaver Stadium with my classmates for the White Out, daily lunch in Warnock Commons with my roommate, it had all happened before, right? And the lack of interest I had in my classes and the dread of the career waiting at the end of my degree, I would get over it, right?

These phantoms I’d seen around campus had been there, done that…but not in the way that I was. I came to learn. It also didn’t help that my RA spun stories about the Runkle Poltergeist and that my best friend was obsessed with the Stacks murder.

So, it was time to leave those ghosts in the past.

The Problem With Fixating On Futures

As I searched for what to do next, I was lucky enough to have friends and family to look to for guidance. I also leapt into new experiences, joining Onward State in my sophomore fall, finally entering a new major at the start of my junior year, and getting more involved with my club sport. In trying to find things I enjoyed, I realized that I enjoyed just about everything I was up to. There are so many possible futures in different careers with different hobbies in different cities, each requiring different studies. It is a tree of possibilities. It was damn near paralyzing.

That paralysis was made worse by the seemingly constant march toward graduation. I’d been fortunate to meet so many friends and mentors at this school, but watching each successive class disappear was hard. I was becoming an “old head” much faster than I wanted to, and I still didn’t really know what I wanted to do after I graduated.

Now, I was the one that people asked for class recommendations, if I liked my major, how I’d handle policy changes within our organization, how to get a job, what the best bar downtown was, and what I was doing after school. I had asked the “old heads” I’d looked up to all these questions and more. I took a lot of stock in their answers at the time, getting glimpses of what their future might hold and using them like a road map to plan out my own college experience. But now, unsure about how to answer these questions myself, I realized how they probably hadn’t formed a final answer on any of them either, except for Pickle’s being the best bar.

It’s taken me this long to find out that a final answer, the right choice, wasn’t going to come to me by listening to someone else tell their story. Focusing on hitting the right milestones at the right time, fixating on landing the perfect internship, quitting activities that I love to specialize in something I’m not sold on yet, just because someone else had success that way wouldn’t lead down a path that made sense for me.

So, scenes from some crystal ball wouldn’t help me either.

How, Then, To Handle The Present

I have a professor who lectures on and on about “Kaizen” principles in manufacturing: how a constant effort in making incremental improvements to a process leads to significant change down the line. It’s a little late in my college career to be discovering a long-term solution to a short-term problem like graduating, but the winding road I’ve taken through my time at Penn State has been kind enough to at least gift me with an extra semester in the fall.

Those I’ve become closest with are wrestling with the pressure and responsibilities that come from leaving this frame of reference. Stepping outside of State College marks the end of someone’s ability to time travel, at least the way I’ve imagined. You lose the forgiveness of these familiar sidewalks and residence halls and the ever-revolving door of possible futures ahead as you graduate. But you also get to start on the next chapter, one where we’re not cramming for exams and scrapping together change to pay for Doggie’s cover, a chapter where everyone is enjoying everything that comes their own unique destination.

This fall, I’ll be stuck in limbo in State College as my friends begin their lives after graduation. That limbo, though, won’t be taken for granted. I’ve spent four years struggling to see where this journey would take me, but I’ll spend next semester enjoying the ride and listening to the present. Another football season, another slate of courses, another change of the leaves, and another first snow, I’ll strive to live it on my terms. I’ve learned from the past and will continue to look back. I’ve examined my futures and will continue to steer toward the right one for me. Most importantly, I’ll get to take each day to enjoy the privilege of continuing my trek.

Thank you to those I’ve been lucky enough to travel this time with. Old-Heads Matts Sob and Brown, Lea, Duddy, Erics Mole and Hess, Cole, Jared, Ethan, Maddie, Izze, and Frankie: thank you for showing me the way forward. AE Boys, Bubba, Dom, Jessi, Julietta, Nathaniel, Ben, Ed, Natalie, Nolan, Dennis, CJ, and Joe: thanks for living in the moment with me. Quinner, Sonk, Tommy, and Andy: thank you for showing me the kids are alright. And to my parents, Meemo, Karen, Jenny, and my Emma: thanks for bearing with me through so many changes in course.

All this to say, reader, that it might be cliche, but people say it for a reason: It goes by in the blink of an eye.

So, don’t waste it following a timeline that isn’t yours.