Saweetie’s not the only one performing on campus.
One of my friends is a Boston College microcelebrity. Everyone knows either him personally or at least of him. Whenever I walk anywhere with him on campus, he’s bound to bump into someone he knows every ten feet.
When this happens, I joke that he’s on his “Campus World Tour,” with stops like the Rat, Gasson Quad, or the stairs next to Iggy as hotspots for his loyal “fans.”
Ever since then, I’ve started treating my own walks on campus like I’m on tour. My friend’s more like Flo Rida—a crowd favorite. Me? I’m more like Saweetie—a little less mainstream, met with mixed reactions.
But hey, I like to think I’ve still got a niche fanbase who shows up and knows me—whether that’s coworkers, crushes, friends, friends’ exes, or those random people you always see but never talk to. Whether I’m waving or doing the classic BC lookaway, there’s always some invisible thread that connects us. Somehow, they’ve all become part of this imaginary tour I’ve built in my head.
But as a senior, with graduation creeping closer, I’ve realized that walking across that stage will be my final tour. I’ll step off the imaginary stage I’ve been performing on for the past four years and leave behind my audience of friends, mutuals, and familiar strangers.
I’m not leaving for good—I’ll still be in Boston, like a handful of my friends. But it won’t be the same. I’ll lose the giant mainstage that is college, along with the built-in social network it provides.
College is ridiculously convenient when it comes to making connections. Even I–someone who’s always taken a pretty passive role in meeting people–ended up with a decent number of them.
Thanks to the sheer number of students and all the shared experiences like classes, clubs, jobs, or goals, you’re bound to stumble into a little pocket within the campus community. These connections, like my lab partners, the other students I work with, and the people I went on a retreat with once, fell into my lap because of the college bubble.
It’s terrifying to think that this convenience will disappear once I graduate. In my head, I narrowed my post-grad social options down to mutual friends, work, rare meet-cutes, and—worst of all—dating apps.
Honestly, being cast in a reality TV show sounds more promising.
It’s daunting, sure—but also weirdly empowering. I know my social bubble will shrink significantly, and the people I’ve casually known will slip away into their own respective bubbles.
I’ll miss being surrounded by familiar faces and experiencing those spontaneous encounters. But just because the campus stage is gone doesn’t mean my ability to build relationships disappears too.
College gave me a social network I never had to work for. Now, I get to choose the size of my social bubble—big or small—and actively pursue connections, shallow or deep.
The stage lights are dimming on my campus world tour. Each building a venue, each face a fleeting fan, every little moment a performance I never realized I was giving. This might be the final leg of the tour, but the show’s not over. The real performance begins offstage. It might not be as loud or as fun, but it’ll be mine. And with intention—and a little vulnerability—I can build a new kind of audience, one friend, one connection at a time.
Leave a Reply