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About Me:

My name is Olivia and I am a senior at Butler University. I spend most of my time in Lilly Hall as a BFA Dance Performance major. When not in rehearsal or ballet class, I write papers for my English Literature second major. In my super-abundant, never-lacking, this-is-highly-sarcastic spare time, I attempt to cook in my apartment kitchen, watch Youtube videos of ballet, knit sweaters that never seem to come to an end, and read books both silly and serious. If I could take any class at Butler just for kicks, I'd go for DiffyQ.

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Olivia

Butler Commencement

So we graduated. The day was perfect — not the sweltering weather I’d been expecting, virtue of the example set by my high school graduation. We arrived in the West Gym in Hinkle Fieldhouse promptly at 9 am. I chased after various people to fix my graduation card, since they left off my honors in both my majors, though I have finished all the requirements except my French class for a core requirement… Oh well, I’ve been confused about my degree plan for semesters; why should it stop at Commencement?

So we processed, we listened to soulful speeches, and we sat for over an hour waiting for the JCFA, the sixth college, to be called. I played “I Spy” with a friend next to me. I clapped after my friends’ names; I smiled as my roommates passed by. Then it was my turn to stand and wind my slow way down the aisle, to mount the stage, to hear my name called, to receive my diploma cover and to shake President Danko’s hand, to run along the back hall of Hinkle in an attempt to get back to our seats before the ceremony finished. And we all clapped and processed (very slowly) out of the Fieldhouse onto the sunny, crowded sidewalks to take a class picture and find our families.

I said “diploma cover,” not “diploma.” Yeah, that last French class means I got a blank diploma until my real graduation in August. Whoops.

It feels surreal, like I haven’t actually graduated (well, I haven’t), like I’m not done with school yet (well, I just spent two hours on my French homework), like I’m still returning to Butler in the fall (well, I’m visiting during the summer)… I still feel like a Butler Bulldog.

I guess I always will be.

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