Such sweet sorrow...

I read somewhere (I think that it was in The Making of Princeton University) that it takes two years to make a college student, and two more to make a college graduate. Freshmen don't know anything; sophomores think they know everything; juniors know what they don't know. Seniors? As a responsible junior, I must admit I don't quite know what seniors know or don't. Hopefully what they're doing with their lives. And yet, does anyone really know that? When he was 21 Louis XIV threw off the yoke of his regents and declared quite calmly that he was the State. But did he know at that point that he would be the Sun King? I mean, come on! The friggin' Sun King.

Among the things I know I don't know is this: what to do with my life. I also don't have the advantage of being King of the Kingdom of France. (Rather redundant sadly.) It's terrifying. But I suppose the point is that worrying about not being Louis XIV, or Napoleon (a general by 26) is rather pointless. It could be worse. I could be Marie Antoinette. Instead I'm me. Martha Vega. Maybe some day that name will mean something. Maybe it won't. But either way, I'm going to go get lost in the Firestone stacks. I've still got two more years to be a college graduate, and a whole lot more to find my destiny. Meanwhile, I don't want to miss out on everything Princeton has to offer (Firestone, apples, free T-shirts...). Who knows, maybe I'll even meet myself as I wander through the subterranean labyrinth.

For just this instant, however, it is the end of an era, albeit a little one. The time has come to end this post, and with it my relationship with this blog. And so as a worthier pen than mine penned: "Good-night, good-night! Parting is such sweet sorrow."