By Keren Moscovitch
The Hoya editors are cringing in anticipation of my third piece of journalistic writing in four years. Many of them don’t even know who I am, actually. Most of my time up on the fourth floor of Leavey was spent behind a mysterious revolving door that everyone imagined led to a dank, dark cave of terror. It did. It led to the darkroom. There, my fellow photographers and I squirted water down each other’s shirts, chilled beer in the wash bath and blasted Arrow 94.7, singing along and forgetting that everyone in the news room could hear our off-key rendition of “Turn the Page” or “Layla” – the REAL one, not its bastardized MTV version.
However, the point of the senior viewpoint is not, I suppose, to recount late-night Hoya madness, but to reflect upon our life-changing experiences at Georgetown … right? I guess. Well, Georgetown didn’t change my life, nor did I experience some sort of radical personal transformation, an I-see-the-light type of moment. I didn’t find myself or uncover the hidden secrets of the universe. I did, however, meet some very funky people.
Some of these people (in chronological order) are the following: (By the way, for anyone who thought they were important enough to be included in this, I apologize for leaving you out, and for anyone who thinks they are super important because they WERE included in this, I urge you to remember that it’s only a senior viewpoint which I had completely forgotten about until several hours before it was due). Anyway, as I said . Elizabeth – We’ve lived together for three years now, and you’re one of the only people who knows the kind of strange noises I make when I sleep. Suz – 8:50 a.m., five mornings a week. Need I say more? Stephanie – Road trip any day, baby. Graham – The guy who knew the true meaning of chill. Gougion and Redmond – Who ALWAYS knew what they were talking about. Dave – You’re right. I will never have a cooler boss. Henle 34 – We’re just way too easy. Andrea – If we had a nickel for every time Tommy Boy has mysteriously found itself in the VCR on a Saturday morning . Brownlow – Where do I begin? I owe you a pack of cigarettes. Jim – Fancy a pint? Meet you at Habitat. Alex – Boobies! (Can I write that in here?) Tim – You have more enthusiasm than all your predecessors combined. Most of the rest of us became disillusioned much earlier in the year and found ourselves sitting in the stairwell and chain smoking while desperate page editors combed Leavey in search of Campus Op photos. Evan – Thank you for inspiration and confidence. Bobby – I marvel at your patience. Kareem and Paul – Who else could possibly share our passion for Must See TV and Margaritas? Everyone in photo – We’re done!!!
That’s what I can’t get over – that we’re done. Here’s where I give in to sentimental drip and lament about my lost youth and how life will never be the same again. I talk about how it seems like we just got here, how the people I met will always have a place in my heart and how nothing will ever compare to those care-free college days, when beer flowed like wine and my little brother could wake me up by callingmy apartment at 3 p.m. I then write a tribute to Georgetown’s Art, Music and Theater department or the Women’s Studies Program, both underappreciated and underestimated, as well as occasionally abused and disrespected. I promise that if I ever make more than $7.50 an hour, I’ll donate money to expand both the Women’s Center and the Walsh Gallery, two spaces which are entirely too small for such important purposes. But most importantly, I say that I had a pretty good time. I think I’m ready to face the world of adults and jobs and paid vacations. I’m not sure about how long I’m willing to stay there, but I’ll give it a whirl. One thing’s for sure, though – no matter how much fun I had here, there’s no going back.
Keren Moscovitch is a former assistant photography editor, photography editor and contributing editor for The Hoya.
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