As I reflect on my time in this once very crowded and, due to a recent dystopian-esque worldwide pandemic, now very empty-feeling campus, I realize how far I’ve come. I figured, what better way to celebrate the end of my vibrant years here at UC Berkeley than to rehash the things I have experienced since transferring from my community college?
The saying, “Through hell comes high waters” is not entirely false. The countless nights I have spent until 3 a.m. grinding in Main Stacks, with the hopes of raising my grade even a tinsy bit higher, has taught me insane determination to always follow through on any assignments — no matter how last minute. It’s near impossible to graduate from this establishment without developing the skills needed to complete insurmountable tasks assigned by incredibly smart, yet slightly demanding, professors in an unfortunately short amount of time. The effort I put in wasn’t always reflected in the results, as is the case for most of us. So we trust in the curve, and remember to never step on the sacred seal.
Before my days running through Dwinelle Hall trying to get to French 3, Berkeley time included, I figured that if I tried my hardest, I would always succeed. Well, UC Berkeley sure crushed that dream faster than I could finish my first semester. I completely struggled coming to terms with the slow crumble of my perfect community college GPA, as I saw it drop by a complete digit faster than I could swim out of the tsunami that hit me at UC Berkeley. I had let go of my ego, along with my strive for perfection, and stopped trying to control the things I couldn’t. And no, I’m not saying you should just carpe diem and not try, even though that can be the more comfortable and appealing option when failure hits. The moment that I finally accepted that the only thing I could do was learn, I started doing better academically, and awakened a drive in myself that far surpassed my prior self-assumed and self-imposed limits.
Jeez, enough about my academics, because as much as my knowledge base expanded, my zest for life thrived even more. This school will awaken emotions that you didn’t even realize were within you. I laughed. I cried. I felt nothing. I felt everything. I couldn’t sleep. I slept for days. I had anxiety attacks. I was serene. I felt lost. I strived. I thrived. I failed. Sometimes all at the same time. …
If I were to do it all again, my advice would be to stop stressing about the little things, and enjoy every moment you have to embrace this campus. Each walk through Sproul Plaza getting flyers chucked at your face to join whatever the latest and greatest happenings on campus have in store. The 20-minute nap on Memorial Glade you take, risking a possible sunburn just to be able to bask in the warmth, even if just for a few moments. The miniature seats in Kroeber Hall that don’t even fit all 5 feet, 3 inches of me comfortably, while my classmates and I gawk over the latest archeological findings. The familiarity of faces squished into Moffitt Library during midterms, most of whom you recognize but have never met. The anger you feel trying to get a key study spot just to see someone’s stuff guarding prime real estate for hours without even using it. The echo of a guy yelling, “Hell yeah” while chowing down on Sliver Pizzeria’s finest flavor of the day.
These are the moments I learned I will miss, and that I encourage you to not take for granted. Because looking back, sure, events are fun, the education is renowned and you’re shaped into a person you didn’t even know existed. But something I didn’t account for is the random daily moments that never go according to plan. The times I thought I would regret not studying and going on a spontaneous adventure actually turned out to be my most cherished moments.
Those glorious times, such as the dead week I rode a motor scooter through campus to Gourmet Ghetto with my best friend instead of cramming material in a corner of the Valley Life Science Building. They’re representations of the lack of structure and the adrenaline rush of the unknown. They were the moments I would always stress about. I would get anxious, not knowing what to do next with my life and worrying about failing at the things I was doing.
Years from now, we won’t think back to the class we did well in, or that test we pulled three all-nighters to ace. We’ll remember breaking into the stadium after hours, going on sunset hikes through the Fire Trails, laying out by Strawberry Creek to find peace, running to catch an indie concert at the Hearst Greek Theatre and chilling on a friend’s roof to escape life for a minute or two.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that it took me too long to realize that jobs will come and success will come, but so will failure. It’s inevitable. So don’t take for granted how close you are to the people you love, don’t be afraid to take an afternoon off and do something completely absurd, and don’t forget to take it all in, before you wake up one morning in June and realize the opportunity will never come again.
Summer Kailani is the summer 2020 blog editor. She joined The Daily Californian in fall 2019 as a blogger and was a deputy blog editor in spring 2020. She is graduating with a bachelor’s degree in anthropology.