Days of my life

Every August during college one of my most important purchases was the Carolina Week By Week.

These spiral-bound "academic year calendars" were so much more than a means of keeping my schedule straight. I carried them with me everywhere, and now they’re the best evidence I have of how I lived my college years.

Events large and small are chronicled in these well-worn pages, from the first entry, on Aug. 19, 1997 (“Bicycle registration – DPS – Security Services building”) to the last, on June 11, 2001 (“First day of work – Kentucky”).

The record shows that through it all I was a sucker for free food.

“What am I going to do this summer?!” March 6, 1998
Post-It Notes, receipts, business cards, email printouts, even a phone card are paper clipped to the pages. Here I recorded passwords, penciled in appointments, brainstormed, and jotted slightly panicked reminders and notes to myself.

I was already into making lists, and they are plentiful: lists of gift ideas, phone calls owed, useful websites, groceries needed, items to pack for weekend trips.

Each year's Week By Week is fuller than the last. I remember thinking in my senior year that I’d not know how to function if I were to lose my Week By Week. The pages are filled with campus tours, club meetings, babysitting, lunch dates, nights out, workout plans, Bible studies, weekend trips, study groups, application deadlines—the major elements of my fun, frazzled existence.

“PRAISE GOD!!! Open book stat exam!” May 8, 1998
Academic assignments got plenty of attention too, though looking back, I was a procrastinator even then. "Write JOMC story. Do not sleep until it's done," I wrote on Sept. 13, 2000. The next week: "FINISH CAR paper. Pull it out of my butt before bed!" Next month: "Read/watch ENGL 83 books.” Enough said.

Some of the content is meaningless to me now; many of the names I don't even recognize. "Find out who Sarah Tyndall is," I wrote on Oct. 16, 2000. Later that month I reminded myself to study and sign up for the treasurer test, and now all I can think is, What the heck was I treasurer of?

A few scribblings seem especially nonsensical.
"2128212821282128 Sex and Stockings" (February 27, 1998). “Plasma – coupon – 11” (Oct. 24, 1998). “Also get stuffed monkey for Emily C.” (March 30, 2001). "Mom's pantsuit and goat cheese" (April 27, 2001).

One of the funniest lists reads as follows: “Uncle J.B. died spitting (fell off front porch). Aunt/niece lovers. Granddad—25-year lawsuit from broken butt. Cindy and Cindy (3 boys, 1 girl each husband). Grandma smells things about people.” (I was going to write a book based on a close friend’s crazy family.)

“Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in long-shot.” – Charlie Chaplin
Every page in the Week By Week featured a quote, many of which I circled or highlighted: "Give the world the best you have, and the best will come back to you" (Ella Wheeler Wilcox), and “You know everybody is ignorant, only on different subjects” (Will Rogers).

Similarly, some of my doodlings consist of quotes that I had read elsewhere and been struck by. "One must discontinue being feasted upon when one tasteth best; that is known by all who want to be long loved" (Nietzsche), I wrote in early May 1998.

“Have transcript sent to Dow Jones Newspaper Fund.” Jan. 12, 2001
It's perfectly logical yet fascinating how well you can track what was going on in my life at any given time just by flipping through these pages. "Diamonds Direct—appointment only," I scrawled beside a phone number two months before Matt proposed. "Goal: Finish Mel’s baby's afghan by end of week @ 2-3 squares/day," I wrote on March 2, 2001. (Two months later: "FINISH AFGHAN"—three days before Melissa went into labor.)

Even the most mundane parts have a back story. Each semester’s class schedule, neatly recorded near the front of each Week By Week, reflects my struggle to settle on a concentration (public relations? advertising? news/editorial? double-major or not?) and a career path.

The “personal phone numbers” section names many people to whom I once was tenuously connected: we played intramural volleyball together, or lived in the same dorm, or were in the same scholarship program. Most of these people I might never hear from again, but a few are still on my speed dial.

“Return pants to Express, do grocery shopping.” Nov. 28, 2000
It’s easy to feel that those four years in Chapel Hill happened a lifetime ago. Matt and I recently celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary. Melissa’s baby girl, the recipient of my one and only foray into crocheting afghans, just started first grade. Soon after graduating, I abandoned a career in a newsroom for one in real estate, where I’ve been ever since.

Some of the plans, hopes and worries recorded in my collection of Week By Weeks seem, in retrospect, a little trivial, almost quaint.

And yet.

An October 1999 list titled “Take Home” includes “jeans for Amanda,” my skinny-as-a-rail younger sister, long the recipient of clothes that have grown a little snug on me. Always the bargain-hunter, in spring 2001 I reminded myself of a Clinique free-gift event—I’m loyal to their lipsticks—and highlighted “25 percent off” week at my hair salon.

My plans for Oct. 11, 2000, included going running with one friend, having lunch with another, and spending the night with another. And my plans for tomorrow are identical.

As far removed as I sometimes feel from my college days, it’s amazing how little some things have changed.