I vowed that this would not be another “time flies,” “spread your wings,” “the world is your oyster” graduation column. But it will be, in its own way, because there can be some truth in those sentiments, as cliché as they are.

For instance, “time flies” is, in my experience, fairly accurate. Time is a passenger on a supersonic plane ride. As a graduating senior, my freshman year is simply an awkward blur, and my last quarter of senior year is a slightly less awkward blur.

And I’ll just heap on the clichés, since we’re already halfway there anyway.

Savor — almost — every moment. Feel free to skip the time when you showed up to class not knowing there was a midterm, when it seemed you were the object of the entire campus’ wrath or when you had a nasty argument with a roommate. Savor the midnight drives to Portland for donuts from that 24-hour pastry shop, the geography class you really dug, or the time your friends held your hands and squeezed them as you got your first tattoo.

As for “spread your wings,” this saying compares graduates to birds, which is apt. But it doesn’t specify what kind, and it doesn’t indicate that you’ll actually get airborne, or if you do, where you’ll actually land. You may feel like a chicken, or perhaps a penguin, because spreading those wings doesn’t seem to get you anywhere. The point is to wiggle those wingtips, especially if you feel a bit let down after graduation. You may move home with your parents or grab a low-paying, brainless job for a while. It may not make you feel like a soaring eagle, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. You didn’t fail. You graduated into a recession, so cut yourself some slack. But don’t let being a recession-baby be an excuse; wiggle those feathers and wiggle them often. Perhaps we won’t “spread our wings” like we thought we would. We may, in fact, end up like our parents and be happy, or not. Or, we may spread our wings in a way that doesn’t please our family or doesn’t fit into the status quo.

“The world is your oyster” could mean many different things. Oysters are tough to crack, after all. They can be smelly and poisonous after a Red Tide, but they can also be delicious barbecued or with a little lemon. They also produce pearls. Considering oysters in a positive light, the world is not only your oyster after you’ve tossed your cap and moved your tassel. The world can be open to us when we’re 22 and when we’re 50, if we are a doctor or a barista, and if we use our degrees or not.

Right now, it may not feel as though the world is a pearl-producing, or even delicious, oyster. Graduating into this recession is difficult, there’s no doubt about that. There are definitely certain realities, yet reality is also created by perception. Is the oyster so difficult to open that you give up, or is it a challenge?

I graduated in journalism and have been seized by fear every time I see headlines proclaiming the death of newspapers and the downfall of journalism. I’m a young journalist, and yet I already feel I’m out of date. I fear I will never be a reporter. Perhaps this fear is based somewhat in truth, but this oyster is all my own, this life is all my own, and I’m going to try my hardest to crack it wide open.

If we work hard at opening that oyster — I think about 15 years of schooling qualifies — and bring as much of a positive attitude to our lives as possible, then those tasty bivalves should go down pretty easy, even after the shine of graduation leaves.

Time has flown, but we’re spreading our own wings now so we can be all that we can be. Let’s savor the moment, so the world really can be our oyster.

Reach managing editor Erinn Unger at opinion@dailyuw.com.