Column by Taylor Grace Suiter

I took out my phone at some point during Miss Murray State University my freshman year, opened Notepad and started my Murray Bucket List. During the now defunct on-stage question portion, a contestant was asked about what items were on her Murray Bucket List.

She said, “To meet the love of my life here and nail our shoes to the Shoe Tree!”

I started typing my own, Shoe Tree-less list. The items range from the simple “Eat at Victor’s Sandwiches,” to the far-fetched “Ride Racer One,” to the nerve-wracking “Perform stand-up at J’s Open Mic night.”

It’s my last semester and out of the eleven items I wrote down that day, I’ve only checked off two.

Luckily for me, I’ve tasted a bit of the inherent freedom that comes with seniorhood, and it’s this “senior year, no regrets” spirit that has me determined to check the nine remaining items off my list.

Now that I realize that nobody cares nearly as much as I thought they did for the past three years, the idea of getting on Burrito Shack’s “Punisher” wall seems a lot less embarrassing and a lot more delicious.

While Murray isn’t the most metropolitan locale on the map, you’d be surprised at how many times you’ll catch yourself saying, “I should do that sometime!” without ever getting around to it.

The Bucket List adds personal accountability into the mix.

You’ve always wanted to check out the Farmers’ Market? Add it to your list. See a laser light show at the Planetarium in LBL? Bullet point.

If we are to believe that many hand-painted canvases hanging in women’s bedrooms are true, then it’s the things you don’t do that become regrets.

I remember walking into Pogue to check “Study in the old library” off my list, and thinking “This has been here this whole time?!” Imagine how hard I would be kicking myself if I had waited until this year.

We make lots of promises to ourselves about what college will be like – how we’ll join all the clubs, make 4.0s, how we’ll finally break out of our high school shells and how it’ll be the best four years of our lives.

However, the best four years of your life don’t happen without action.

The time is passing, regardless of whether you decide to start checking off items or not.

Sometimes being passive and not making a choice can become your choice, too.

For instance, everyone talked about how cool the inside of Ordway Hall was, and I used to think, “I should check that out!”

But it was torn down before I ever stepped foot inside.

Seeing the interior of a building which apparently had half-levels and pretty floors was no longer an option.

Once I walk the stage in May, the opportunities to watch Campus Lights, study abroad and take a ceramics class decrease significantly.

Four years is a long time, but thankfully, it’s a finite time.

Your final semester will quickly sneak up on you – walk the stage with a fully-checked list, not listless “what ifs.”