Anniversaries

With this post, I would like to mark the one year anniversary of two auspicious occasions.  The first: turning in my SIP, or Senior Individualized Project.   Kalamazoo's obligatory thesis serves to remind all seniors that even though they just about made it through four years of rigorous and challenging classes, pulled more all-nighters than they had full nights of sleep, survived study abroad, and had more study-parties than party-parties, Kalamazoo still has one more trick up her sleeve in the form of a project that you will spend months agonizing over, writing, rewriting, scrapping completely and starting over, agonizing over some more, and finally rejoicing as you clutch your warm fifty-page masterpiece acceptable final draft, fresh from the printer.  And then hole-punch it five pages at a time because even through every student who is accepted to Kalamazoo College has to do a SIP, Kalamazoo still hasn't thought that it might be a good idea to buy a bigger three-hole-punch.  Turning in my SIP felt amazing; what felt even more amazing was when my jaw, neck and shoulder muscles unclenched about two weeks later. 

The second:  Turning in my application for the Teaching Assistantship Program in France.  Yes, it's painfully symbolic that the very day that I turned in my SIP, the last vestiges of my graduation requirement, I turned in the application that would unfold to become my future.  It's so symbolic that if I came across something like this in a novel, I'd think, "Well, that's a little forced, isn't it?  Hit me over the head with your point, why don't you?" Which is why when I write my memoirs, I will lie about everything.

In addition to the one year anniversaries today, there's a special someone celebrating their three year anniversary... my study abroad application!  Three years ago today, I turned in my application to go to Strasbourg, France.  As if the symbolism couldn't get anymore sickeningly contrived. 

Next January 15th, I wonder what anniversary I'll be celebrating.  The anniversary of me sitting in my room in Bar-le-Duc and doing nothing?  The anniversary of me going to the grocery store?  As this seems to be felicitous date, I feel like I should attempt to do something out of the ordinary and see if fate rewards me once again.  The thing is, I won't recognize it today, or tomorrow, or a month from now.  But next January 15th, 2012, when I'm accepting my Golden Globe for best screenplay, I'll finally be able to look back and say, "I started writing the screenplay for 'The English Assistant,' a year ago today, with absolutely no idea that I might eventually be up here accepting this award.  I'd like to thank the people of Bar-le-Duc for making this possible."

So happy anniversary to my past, present and future!  I won't forget you when I'm famous.