It’s no secret that Gen Z lives and breathes nostalgia. From reminiscing about the early 2000s to pawing through thrift stores in search of authentic 70s jeans, it’s easy to generalize that we love the (sometimes near, sometimes not-so-near) past. While I myself fall prey to these compulsions, such as the urge to buy a film camera, I find comfort in the fact that there are other people my age who experience reoccurring nostalgia. It’s a funny phenomenon, reminiscing about things we weren’t even alive for
Nostalgia has been the theme of my senior year of college, but this nostalgia has taken on a whole new meaning. While it feels silly to be nostalgic for Nickelodeon shows like iCarly and Victorious, which premiered no more than fifteen years ago, I find myself reminiscing about my life two, maybe three ,years ago. I’m talking about a nostalgia for the early years of college.
I have loved every second of my senior year, don’t get me wrong. It feels like everything has fallen into place and the world makes sense. As a freshman I considered transferring and senior year has only solidified my love for Denison and the decision I made to stay. But it’s the early years of college that my tender thoughts have been drifting to as of recent.
Just last Friday my roommate and I experienced a blast from the past as we got ready to go out. As we walked to East Quad, the part of campus where underclassmen live, we took a mini trip down memory lane, laughing about our freshman year antics. That little adventure really put into perspective for me the fact that I’m nearing the end of an era. I’m no longer a wide-eyed, adventurous freshman; she’s been replaced by an exhausted senior who crosses her fingers desperately every time she submits a job application. I love who I am right now, but I can’t help but miss who I was when I started my first year at Denison.
Simplicity rules sometimes and my life felt simple back then. I wasn’t being constantly pestered by adults asking questions such as, “So what the hell does one do with a History degree?” or “Are you and your boyfriend going to stay together postgrad?” Rather, I was being asked if I liked my classes, or if I had actually talked to a boy yet. Senior year carries a lot of weight; I won’t pretend it doesn’t. I have loved my senior year, but I can’t help but let my thoughts wander to the past. To all those freshman out there loving life: hold that feeling close.