This January, I entered my final semester at Oakland University, which has been equal parts exciting, stressful and tumultuous. 

Throughout the first few weeks of the semester, I’ve had this weird thought that I cannot get out of my head: My real life is happening miles away from Oakland University.

Graduation inherently means moving on. You enter a new chapter of your life. You find a job, you are no longer tied up in lectures and you finally get to enter the real world.

However, my experience this semester has been less of a reflective transition and more of an overlapping Google Calendar fight between the two versions of my life. My student life and my post-graduation life are both happening at the same time – and honestly, neither of them seems particularly interested in waiting around for the other.

This semester, I’m only on campus two days a week for classes, which honestly makes me feel more disconnected than ever. In my freshman year, I had classes every day, a vigorous optimism and a sincere desire to see and do everything on campus.

Now, I wave hello to Elliott Tower once a week like an estranged family member – banished to night classes and long, silent walks back to my car at 9:55 p.m. The one perk of night classes is that I can find my car because the parking lots are so empty.

Sometimes I sit in lectures and genuinely wonder what I’m going to do with all of this information. I stare into the abyss of fluorescent lights and hear my professor say, “This will be useful later.” I think about what “later” means and decide that maybe that’s not the point. I’m technically here to learn, so I snap out of my void and try to get something out of my education.

I spend the rest of my week in downtown Detroit, writing and working for Click on Detroit. I drive down I-75 and pass the Cobo Center (no, I will not be calling it Huntington Place.) I get coffee at a boujie café downtown. For a few hours, I forget that I’m still technically a college student. I work 31.4 miles away from my classes, and that distance feels symbolic.

Growing up, Detroit was reserved for Tigers games and nice meals. But now, at 21, I finally have the freedom and luxury to work a job downtown. I have saved places on my Instagram account of restaurants and cafés to visit. I have friends who live there whom I try to see when I’m in the area.

One of the only times I’m on campus during a normal hour is on Mondays, when I help out with the newspaper. I don’t even have to be at OU for a class, but I show up anyway – to see my friends and to be part of something that has shaped my college experience. Ironically, it’s the thing that makes me feel the most connected to campus. I hear what’s happening on campus, what reporters are writing about and what everyone is talking about this week.

This is not what I pictured my last semester of college to look like.

My life outside of OU has been tugging aggressively at my responsibilities. I’ve skipped classes multiple times for job interviews. I’ve rushed into lectures 20 minutes late after a long meeting with a professor who is helping me apply for a program months from now.

Recently, the Japanese Embassy contacted me and offered a fully funded trip to Japan. I didn’t hesitate to say yes, even though that meant missing a few days of class. Sorry, OU. I’ll be trading lectures for sushi and government work, which I guess is a fair reflection of where my priorities are right now.

I also want to recognize that Oakland University is important to me. I wouldn’t be here without the guidance and support of my professors. I willingly chose the career path and the schedule that has pulled me farther from campus than I expected.

But still, I find myself twitching in lectures and mentally drafting emails to my boss. The senioritis has never been more real – not because I don’t care, but because one foot is already out the door.