So this is it: my last column. No, no — it’s OK. Please don’t cry. Seriously, shut up — I can’t think when you’re blubbering like Augustus Gloop over there. We’ve really had some great times together this semester, haven’t we? Like that time last week when we sat on the BU beach for too long. (Is your rash getting better?) I mean, I really feel I can tell you guys anything. I never thought that writing this column would earn me so many new best friends. Have I told you that you’re great? I guess now that we’re tight and all, I can let you guys in on a little secret.

I don’t know what I’m doing — ever, really. I kind of make it up as I go along. Example: I’m in the dining hall and decide to get mashed potatoes. Do I want gravy? I don’t know! I didn’t think about it. I guess so. Example No. 2: I want to cross the street. Do I make a run for it or cling to the curb? Yes, but only after checking left, right, left for Comm. Ave. Running Guy. Example No. 3: When some one asks me, “What are you doing with your life? What are your plans?” I shudder. This is my cue to rattle off grad school, Peace Corps, Teach for America or “getting my feet wet” in the work industry as options that I am “seriously considering.” The truth is I don’t know yet. I would love to simply wander around, figuring things out as I go along immersed in spontaneity. I want to pull a Jack Kerouac, a Hunter S. Thompson, a Bukowski even. I want to live in bat country.

So sue me. I do not know what I am “doing with my life.” Sure, I still have a year left of the four-year life pit stop that is college, but as every deadline, adviser and Green Peace pamphleteer reminds me, the clock is ticking and I apparently have to “get it together.”

So, my friend, what are you doing with your life? I felt so rude going on and on about myself just then, but sometimes I forget that you’re on the other side of this newspaper. You don’t know either? I kind of had a feeling that you were going to say that so I’ve come up with a way for us to figure this out together — an interactive word game!

You know the kind: Mad Libs, choose your-own-ending-books and M.A.S.H. The idea of blindly choosing a word for a sentence with no knowledge of its context is like jumping into a canyon with a watermelon strapped to your back. Or stumbling into the “real world” with a bubble gum diploma, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, depending on the context.

Stay with me now. In life you don’t always know if your decisions are the “right” ones. You fill in the blanks as you go along and hope that you chose wisely. As a kid, I read choose-your-own-ending books backwards, forwards and sideways, making sure that I had figured out every possible scenario. Every decision mattered and I wanted to ensure my triumph at the end. Unfortunately in the game of life, cheating isn’t as easy. You don’t get a do-over. So, back to that pesky thing called the future.

You could call it What I am Doing With My Life by (insert your name here). (You’re doing great!)

Now that I am a (senior, junior, sophomore, freshman) in college, I’m really starting to think about the future. I am a (Type A/Type B/Type X) personality. This is evident because I (hate/like) fun. Values: If I saw an elderly woman trying to steal another elderly woman’s purse, I would (grab the purse and run/point and laugh/help both of them cross the street). This summer I plan to (work/sit on my parent’s couch digging Cheetos from under the cushion as I watch marathons of Planet Earth). This will prepare me for my future. The most important thing to me when deciding on a career is (money/a positive contribution to society/job security/vacation time/good-looking co-workers). I’ve been told that taking a year off to travel after college could do wonders for my self-discovery and to that I say: (I’m buying a plane ticket right now/wuss). Moving to Tibet to study with Buddhist monks is (my own manifest destiny/stuff that white people like). When I am old and grey I would like to look back on my life and (smile/cry).

See, you guys? That wasn’t so hard. I can’t believe we finally figured it all out. And all it took was a word activity! Mission accomplished. I don’t know what all those philosophers were complaining about. No more existential questions here.

So goodbye. I will now spend my summer toiling away as a lowly intern who dreams of vagabonding for a living. As I sift through demos and memos at the Weekly Dig, I’ll look out the window, thinking of you. I hope you enjoyed your weekly glimpse into my schizophrenic mind. I really have to go now, though.

Please don’t call. I’m not sure if I’ll be OK with talking to you just yet. I just have a lot of feelings that I need to sort out. If you really need to talk to me, send a text message or a Facebook message (just not on that creepy new chat application). I promise I’ll respond.

It’s been a great three and a half months, but I just can’t do this anymore (mainly because the FreeP won’t run during most of the summer). I hope your future works out the way you plan it. I’m sorry, but I’m just not a relationship person. I can’t do everything for you. It’s your turn to fill in the blanks now. You’ll be fine. Just make sure you watch that word choice, because the differences between two and too can be many. Now, put this newspaper down and go outside. You’ve got an ending to choose.

Isis Madrid, a junior in the College of Communication, has been a weekly columnist for The Daily Free Press. She can be reached at [email protected].