Naked as the Day you were Born

Okay, so not QUITE that naked, but naked enough... as naked as I'll ever be in public, save for the all too occasional beach trip. Wednesday night I participated in a Chapman "tradition," called the Undie Run (and in doing so became a walking college cliche, but that's besides the point). My excuse is that it's for a good cause. Our school has a club called Action in Africa, and one of the things they do is collect the discarded clothing of sweaty college students and send them to African orphans. I support this, except I didn't because in a frenzy not to miss the run I threw my shirt off in my car and sprinted to Memorial Hall, but that doesn't mean I don't care.

So Chris and I take off down the street and leave Erica and her not-so-in-shape friends in the dust. Chris, who's training for the San Diego Marathon, yells at me, "Let's win this thing!" "Chris, it's not a race..." as I struggle to keep up. I know, I already ran a marathon, a quarter of a mile should be nothing, but I've got a bad knee now and the doctor said to stay off of it so back off. We get to Memorial just in time for the sea of bodies to come tsunami-ing towards us, so like good little water dwelling creatures we joined in and ride the wave all the way to the circle, avoiding every professional looking camera I saw in order to avoid having my face all over the internet. My mom reads the OC Register, she knows what day it is.

Though this was my first time running scantily clad through Old Town, I have read up on past episodes enough to know that last time my comrades damaged the Old Town fountain, sorry Mr. Mayor. But to be fair, Chapman paid for the near $20,000 worth of repairs, and I find that to be the best use of my tuition to date whether I was there or not. This year every fountain on campus and off was roped off like a sloppy murder scene. Instead we had a very contained orgy/naked dance party in the gym... by that I mean I saw a wiener. One lap around the gym and I was ready to go home and roll around in my bed, alone, in about 1,000 peoples sweat. Not exaggerating, there was 1,000 of us. I woke up smelly and in desperate need of a shower, except my apartment has no hot water... awesome.

The thing is, this Undie Run wasn't just a run for me, oh no, it somehow sparked something in me that even turning in a hard copy of my thesis a day early couldn't do... it made me realize that college is over. In a few short days I'll start my grown-up job working for the county and have to stop acting like a retard in public. The mayor of Orange isn't going to strip down to his underwear and run around City Hall with me, and even if he was willing, that would just be creepy and highly unprofessional... one picture of that and his far reaching political ambitions are crushed. Mine aren't, but I don't really have ambitions (I mean, that's kind of a lie, but there are pictures of me in a bra on Glassell St. so if I think I'm going to be the next county supervisor I should check my camera at the door.)

Something changed when I started that sprint down the sidewalk. Maybe it was the burning in my chest from that one shot of Bacardi, or maybe it's the fact that I know there's an old dude with a photo of me in his personal collection, but whatever it is I know I'll never be the same... especially not after tomorrow morning at around 10:45AM. I'll be a college graduate. I will never be an undergrad again. I can't do stupid crap anymore. I mean, I can, but it's going to be far less expected of me now that I'm supposed to be "mature." People keep saying how proud they are of me, and it just makes me feel weird, but since that run I've realized what an accomplishment it really is. I spent five years of my life reading tons of books and writing more essays than I can count to learn how to write and research and, well, think. I loved what I studied and I loved the people I studied with. Rather than feeling awkward I think I'm going to start responding to people by smiling and admitting it, "Yeah, I'm proud too."