I don’t know how to start this column. In large part, I assume, because I don’t want to write it. My final article for The Daily Tar Heel. This is the last time my byline will appear in the paper, on what will be my final LDOC. When I go into the office the night before this runs to read it over with my editors, it will likely be the last time I walk into the DTH office.
As someone who is by nature wildly over-nostalgic — I’m even nostalgic for things that haven’t happened yet; my wedding, my retirement, accepting my Nobel Peace Prize for brokering peace between Seth Newkirk and Paige Masten — this article and the sense of finality that surrounds it, that surrounds my college experience as a whole, has put me in a downright funk — so much so I couldn’t even come up with the Misha Maruf disses that so many now expect from my articles. For that, I apologize.
My time at UNC, this idyllic place I’ve called home for the past four years, is at an end. Attending college is a privilege, not just for the education it provides, but because it presents a rare opportunity of semi-adulthood, a fleeting few years where you possess most of the rights and privileges accorded to adults with few of the responsibilities. The perfect time, and UNC the perfect setting, for one to, as Thomas Wolfe put it, “loaf comfortably and delightfully through four luxurious and indolent years.”
And those indolent years are soon to be behind me.
How utterly depressing.