To support safety and public health during the Covid-19 pandemic, all on-campus events are canceled until further notice.

It is the eve before my last first day of classes. I sit very comfortably in the calm before the storm, cozied up with my boyfriend watching Criminal Minds reruns, doing one last load of laundry, and trying to muster the energy to make a dinner reservation. Tomorrow, the train starts its inevitable chug down the track, and there’s really no stopping it until graduation day. This is the most peaceful Sunday I’ll have for a long, long time. And I’m suffering from paralyzing writer’s block.

As a fourth-year Writing Seminars major, I am all-too familiar with this phenomenon and have tested a bunch of block-defying strategies, all with varying degrees of success. There’s the procrastination method, where you ignore that sick feeling in your gut and occupy yourself with other assignments until the pressure becomes great enough to FORCE your brain into gear. Would not recommend. I prefer healthier, stranger methods, like making crazy-person lists of rhyming words, explaining a concept to one of my patient roommates, or reading really good writing until something’s sparked within me as well. While writer’s block is a pain in the butt, I’ve been cranking out two or three poems/short stories a week since coming to Hopkins. It’ll darken my doorway for the rest of my life, but I’m more than prepared for battle.

Blogs, however, have always nearly written themselves. This is the most effortless, painless writing I get to do. I literally just talk about myself, in my natural voice, in 500-word increments every other week. It typically doesn’t get much tougher than sticking to one topic a post.

But today, I struggled. So much so that this is the third or fourth time I’ve returned to this Word doc since dragging myself out of bed. It’s not that my life is running low on exciting things. I could write a ten-blog series on my internship at Under Armour. Within a week, I’ll be waxing poetic on my senior spring class lineup. And sorority recruitment is going down this weekend, which is sure to give me enough photos and inspiration to last all semester.

I started those posts. But by the end of the first paragraph, I could tell they were just going to turn out…well. Blah.

And I think that’s because I, too, am a little blah. I can’t seem to see past the very unavoidable reality hovering over me like the Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come. I’ve really, truly arrived at my last semester. After returning to campus and going through class prep, recruitment training, and all that jazz, I feel more like a senior and less than prepared for that truth than ever before. Once tomorrow hits, the clock starts. This little Blue Jay is running out of time.

In the coming weeks, I’ll return to regularly scheduled programming. Despite its finality, I’m confident that this is going to actually be the best semester to date. But for now, I’m content to have you join me in the in-between, wondering how to make the next four months last another four years.

If I could do it all over, I'd still do it all over with them.

If I could do it all over, I’d still do it all over with them.