Philosophical loony birds


Every year around this time there are a few guaranteed occurrences to let you know that spring is almost here. For one thing, the melting snow in my yard is unearthing all sorts of fun surprises and the lawn is now riddled with red party cups and real estate signs from various neighbourhoods across the city (don’t ask). My car is at peak filth level, both inside and out, and I can no longer get away with leaving my Tupperware in the backseat for weeks on end because the warmer temperature transforms it into a rotten disaster in about eight seconds. And stress levels are at an all time high as the semester starts to wind down and you realize you still have 14 projects to do before you’re free.

This spring, however, is different for me. I’m graduating from college and have to become a contributing member of society, a very new and foreign concept. I got a big girl job at an agency and finally quit my serving job (not before dropping a dishwasher grid tray of pop glasses directly onto my right foot leaving it so swollen I couldn’t get my boots on — a nice final pat on the back from the restaurant industry), and as of June 7, 2017, I will no longer be a student.


This is the end of an era, an era that has lasted literally my entire life. I have never not been a student. Even when I (accidentally) took two years off between university and college, I still considered myself a student because I knew, eventually, I’d have to go back. But now I’m done! And don’t give me that “we’re all students, we never stop learning” garbage, you philosophical loony birds. Yeah, sure, I learn every day, but no one’s going to write a big frowny face on my grocery list because I forgot to capitalize “Kleenex” and it wasn’t properly formatted in Chicago style.

There are a few things in particular that I’m looking forward to, like maybe my sleep schedule will finally settle into some kind of normalcy (probably not), and maybe I’ll stop eating white cheddar popcorn before 9:00 in the morning so many days of the week (definitely not). I’d like to say I’ll keep you posted on whether these things work out or not, but I am leaving, so I won’t.

On that note, I have exceeded my word count in the very last column I will ever write for The Projector. To the three of you actually reading this, thank you for listening to me ramble biweekly for the last year, and to those of you that pass by the stacks of newspapers without giving them so much as a second glance, you’re dead to me.

Talk to you never, kids.


Answers to Fletch, Betty Spaghetti, or Hey You.

Long, shaggy blonde hair.

Slightly aggressive at first but usually warms up after she smells you.

Feed her pizza and she’ll be the most loyal friend you’ll ever have.

Follow her on Twitter @kylakylakyla__