Am I really less than a year away from being a “real” grown-up? As a senior, I’m on the cusp of my entrance to what is popularly known as “the real world,” which will be a harsh reality check contrasted with the cushy life of a college student. In a year or so, there won’t be any more parental handouts; the loan collectors will start demanding monthly payments and the need for a real job will become immediate.

While I was technically considered a legal adult when I turned 18, I simply entered the in-between world of college. I got more freedom, sure, but I was financially dependent upon my parents whether I liked it or not — or so FAFSA informed me.

Fast-forward three years, and here I am: it’s my last hurrah, so to speak. My last opportunity to accept financial assistance from my parents. My last opportunity to stay up until 3 a.m. and then show up for my 9:30 class the same morning.

While they can fire me from a day job for lousy performance, they can’t kick me out of class for being inattentive and skipping a few days.

As only other seniors would understand, there is both an overwhelming urge to graduate and get it all over with, and a simultaneous wish that college would last forever. While the grind of mid-terms, finals and academia at large can get overwhelming, it’s a nice haven from the real world; the camaraderie that comes with having roommates, sorority sisters and fraternity brothers, and study buddies, is unrivaled in the workforce — or so I’ve heard. While we complain about how disgusting the Ave is, a part of us finds it difficult to believe that in nine short months, we won’t be walking it every day on our way to school, and that’s sad.

This is our last year to get student-priced tickets and sit in the Dawg Pack. It’s our last opportunity to ride the Metro for virtually nothing — compared to what everyone else pays, anyway — and our last chance to have a free gym membership through the IMA. It’s our last chance to decide when we want to show up on campus for class and plan our schedule accordingly. It’s also our last time to be on our parents’ health insurance plans — next thing we know, we’ll be grumbling about the crappy HMO’s provided with our entry-level jobs.

In many ways, people I’ve talked to say it’s harder being an entry-level worker bee than a “starving student” because you’re making next to nothing, yet don’t qualify for the financial discounts that come with being in college.

Last year, most of our peers became legal and celebrated their 21-runs at Finn MacCool’s and Earl’s. This year, the frat-party scene will make way for the slightly-less-sketchy bar scene, and social options will multiply. Happy hour will become the highlight of our week, and we’ll wonder how we ever managed before we were 21.

It’s crazy how fast things change. People get older, and along with the same wide-eyed freshmen we lived with during our first year at Lander, we’re about to graduate, and our paths will diverge into the unknown.

As we count down to the next chapter of our lives, let’s savor the small stuff — and make every last moment count.

Reach columnist Katie Paff at opinion@dailyuw.com.