O(verreactors) A(nonymous)

It finally occured to me today -- and it's about time, many of you will be thinking --

I'm an overreactor.

**

This morning at 4, I got up.

I volunteered this week for the job of picking up our papers from the printer at Sheldon. Since we are at the very bottom of the printer's totem pole, we get printed anytime between 10 p.m. and 3 a.m. I calculated the trip so that I could sleep as late as possible, pick up the papers, and get to work just at 8:15, when the papers needed to travel over to the Post Office.

Plus, I scheduled in a stop at the college to drop off a key.

Humor me with the term -- it was a "surreal" half hour.

And humor me with a lame metaphor, too: It's like I'm a fish, and NW is water. After 3.5/4 years of swimming, the biggest fish (who never have to leave) said sorry, there's not enough water to go around anymore. So we're asking the older fish to evolve, starting...now. Good luck.

In college, the way of life is that education is key, study, study, study. Knowledge is power. Build community.

On the very last day, they cut the cord sharply and your way of life is supposed to do a complete shift from then on out. The new way of life: Here's some bills, here's a job. Keep a balance in this checkbook until you're dead.

So, a short dip in the water felt right. I knew the names of all the streets, where all the back roads went. I knew that car belonged to Titus Landegent. I knew where the scrap paper was kept -- since I put it there. The pen I picked up to scribble a note -- yeah, it was my pen.

Browsed the Informer -- found a want ad for a ride to church. The wanter -- Asha Epp, my church buddy of...oh, two years? And lunch/mail date.

And then, of course, it all felt very wrong, too. The placards on the Granberg doors bore names of people who will say hilarious things I will never know about, who will never teach me. And some names were missing. And in the office? No cereal. A new phone -- on which I had no voicemail account. A clean whiteboard. The cafeteria was open on my way back through town. It would have been natural to go grab the ritual half glass of orange juice, half glass of milk, and bowl of square brown cereal -- but I would have had to pay. And look stupid among all the skanky freshmen dressed up for their first day of MWFs.

It's no use explaining this amputation to students, as it just comes off like a lot of complaining. It's like explaining that depression doesn't mean you're just sad a lot to someone who's never witnessed it -- it means you're crying in the shower when you haven't been awake long enough for anything bad to happen yet.

And it's no use explaining to roommates who are thrilled to be away from homework and closer to their husbands and boyfriends and mission fields.

I wanted to stay and say:
Carl, let's talk F-stops. And I should have gone through with poetry like you told me to.
Mr. Scorza, will you teach me about color separations?
Kim, I want to read more about Kolln and Weaver and basic writers. Keep being amazing.
Dr. VDW, I want to go on ASP, too! And grade government tests. And meet Ron Sider.
Joonna, can I rewrite my theory paper on the rhetoric of Max Lucado? Or the New York Times?
Bob Winn -- just talk for awhile. To Adam Mohr. I'll listen.
Martin...Come back, talk about AM radio and have lunch with Bob Winn. I promise to stop freaking out every Friday morning.

It was then that I realized it -- I have been freaking out for a long time. It wasn't just this summer. It wasn't just last year, or the year before...it's been my entire life.

I have been an overreactor my entire life, and no one has ever had the guts to tell me to my face. Hm. Makes me feel stupid. Sorry, world. I hate overreactors.

Yes, honey, millions of people have graduated from college and all of them survived. And many of them survived well.

Yes, you are replaceable. And you are a replace-or, too. It's called the life-cycle. It's been around a long time. Seems to be working out.

And no, God is not going to leave you around dangling, seemingly purposeless, for the rest of your life. Just be patient.

You are just fine.

Lora Goll: I WILL be patient! I AM being patient!





Blotting before it became illegal