I love Café 210. Those tables cluttered with glasses of alcohol, that patio packed with friends talking and laughing as if they didn't have a care in the world.
The sun is shining, and the sky is blue. You don't need that afternoon class. And you definitely don't need to worry about homework or exams at the moment. There is always tonight or tomorrow for that, but right now, you're gonna take it easy and enjoy life, to smell the roses, if you will.
You're heeding the warning of these wise words I read somewhere: When you're on your deathbed, you're not going to wish you had worked more. All in all, hanging out with friends at Café 210 seems like the perfect way to spend an afternoon.
Yes, you heard me right. I said "seems." That's because I've actually never been there.
And what's worse, I've especially never been there on a weekday afternoon.
Oh, I have experienced Café 210 all right. But those experiences have been slightly different than what I described above. They most definitely have never involved relaxation, friends or alcohol, and they almost always have involved carrying a large number of books on my back, scurrying along College Avenue past Café 210 to get to whatever it is that's next on my to-do list.
But it's in those brief seconds whizzing past the laughter and the breeze of booze that I think how nice it must be. I love seeing people having a great time there, and I usually end up wondering, "Why can't that be me?"
And that's when my motivation takes a big hit. Those patrons of Café 210 seem to be bursting with happiness and loving life. Why am I stressing when I could have a happier life relaxing?
If other students were to examine my four years here at Penn State, I believe they would reach the conclusion that I was one of those nerds who spent too many hours hunched over a computer screen doing work or racing around to get to all my activities. But, as a senior looking back, I'm not sure I could have changed that.
I have this "thing" that kicks in when I'm sitting around. I get the urge that I need to do something. Don't get me wrong -- I like hanging out with friends, and I have plenty of fun doing that on weekends or grabbing a quick lunch during the week. But, unfortunately, I'm cursed with this "thing" that takes over. I get a panicked feeling if I'm sitting around when work needs done. I can't stop thinking about what I have to do.
Well, on second thought, I'm not sure I would change the way I spent my four years here. When I look back and remember the good times I've had, as seniors are called to do, I don't draw a blank. I remember great nights at bars and parties, and I remember a lot of moments laughing with friends.
But the times I will remember most don't revolve around alcohol or lounging around during the day. Those memories are just one part of my college experience -- an experience that involves other ways to spend time that people rarely seem to mention when thinking back on the good times they had.
Besides the great day I had at the G-Man Saturday, I'm never going to forget acing my term paper, crying at a poetry reading, surviving 48 hours on my feet, singing with Kenny Rogers at the Bryce Jordan Center, handling a call on a hotline from a rape victim, covering the municipal elections this year or spending many of my Saturdays since freshman year with Dorothy, a disabled 65-year-old woman whom I met through Best Buddies.
It seems that a popular way to rate the success of your college career is by how much beer you guzzled down. As fun as that may be, it's not for me.
So for the last two weeks that I walk past the packed patio of Café 210, books in hand, I'm not going to have any regrets. I'm proud of my college career -- the hours spent working rather than partying.
