It’s the final countdown!
(Cue the air guitar)
Nostalgic for head-banging power rock? Not so much. Itching for a game of “Guitar Hero?” Not really. Wishing I had an iPod Touch so I could waste my time playing Tap Tap Revenge? Sometimes…
But who ever thought that head-banging power rock song by Europe (thank you Google for directing me to that tidbit of information) would be the anthem for my — gulp — final semester?
OK, I confess, it’s not really my anthem. But even if I would like to say that I could find something more profound to be my soundtrack to my daily tribulations than this song, at this juncture, I am too paralyzed (by the concept that I have just a few months left of my undergraduate career at Binghamton University) to contemplate anything of a deeper nature.
I’m about to go into a time vacuum and get shot out of a cannon and emerge in a cap and gown, suddenly in “adulthood” — whatever that actually means. My foray into the unknown will hopefully be rewarded by a meal at Number 5 if we can get a reservation. Cue “The Final Countdown” to graduation dinner!
All apologies to 80s hair thrashing enthusiasts but I would, in fact, like to change my anthem of the moment. I don’t want to be stuck in the paralysis of counting down until the end (cough cough, thanks Mayans for putting me in perpetual fear for my life!)
Rather than bemoaning the last passage of time I have at this fine institution of the State of New York, I would like to be living it up, with one eye sorta-kinda paying attention to the future to avoid having to pay rent to a cardboard box, or by becoming a resident of a child’s backyard playhouse a la that episode of “Modern Family.” (Hulu it, if not to understand my reference, then at least to ogle James Marsden — or to become a fan of one of the better things television gave us in the past few years.)
So while “The Final Countdown” may be capturing my current state, and will probably be my head-banging anthem in the early weeks of May — possibly combined with “I Won’t Grow Up” from Peter Pan on particularly bad and resistant days — I’m attempting to recognize that while my days until graduation (and dinner) are numbered, that 80s synth glam rock is not the be-all and end-all to the final semester of my college career.
I’m starting to feel a déjà vu for one of the least esteemed times in my life, as a 13 year old: the sensation at the end of a bat or bar mitzvah, when “I’ve Had The Time of My Life” is playing, and you’re thinking, that wasn’t really the time of my life, but it was pretty fun, really exhausting, and everyone looks pretty happy, but everyone just spent a whole lot of money, got “really drunk on virgin pina coladas,” but we all wore pretty dresses and/or suits.
Yes, I’m likening this critical point in my life to the epitome of my middle school career — a time filled with puberty, awkward slow dances, hiding out in the bathroom from the cooler kids; a time where you are waiting to be catapulted into something bigger, better, more grown up, yet terrified of the clock ticking to real responsibility and leaving your comfortable little bubble — or the guy with the hor d’eurves tray at the mitzvah. Stuffed mushrooms? Awesome!
But like bat mitzvahs, like middle school, whether it was the time of your life or not, it is going to end and we’ll all just walk out the door. Except this time, the party will have real pina coladas.