And I Smile From Death Upon All

Dear Alan,

I don't think that it's really hit me yet, my death. I got home just yesterday after 15 hours on the road, after 3 days of Yale-China orientation, after commencement, Senior Week, Myrtle, finals, Reading Week, school...it's been a whirlwind of activity. Today has been the same: I've begun the sucky sucky task of unpacking and repacking. Moving to a foreign country in two suitcases = special. Very, very special.

I cried several times last Monday (commencement) and Tuesday (move-out), but not even as much as I expected, and since then, I've become surprisingly emotionally stable (after I had described the whole graduation affair as "emotional devastation." I love Yale, I love y'all, and I'll miss college, but (I think...I hope) a healthy sort of miss. I had four bright college years, and that's all, folks. I had my time, and I did with it what I needed to do: I learned how little I know and how much maturing I still have to do...and you know, I think that's exactly what Yale means to do.

Every Yalie experiences "death" differently, and I can't speak to a unified experience, but I can speak for mine, and I for one was resurrected on the third day. I got my after-college dream: I'm moving to China to teach spoken English, fully-funded for two years (including language training). I'm living and teaching with other Yalies in a city where there will be eight of us (plus our awesome program support officer). I'll have the time and funds to learn to cook, learn an instrument, learn tai chi...learn anything. I'll have the time to write, reflect, travel and experience.

BCY calls Yale "the shortest, gladdest years of life." I disagree: life is what you make it. Our time at Yale was short, yes, and glad, mostly, but I intend to make my life ten-fold what it was at Yale, to make myself one hundred-fold what I was on commencement day. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end. The end was sad, but the beginning is exciting. I'm going to make my death count.

-cy