For many of us, our deepest thoughts occur in places where we're left alone with nothing to do but listen closely to the mechanics in our noggin.

Your best alibi as to why you submitted your assignment four minutes past its due date was probably the one you thought of in the shower (a terrible sin to commit as a student). While sitting on the porcelain throne after a night of cosmic bowling with your besties, the pizza you scarfed down with your besties wasn't the only thing you churned out the next morning (sorry for that foul example). You also churned out a brilliant solution for whatever thing you've had trouble figuring out for days.

My deepest thoughts happen in waiting rooms.

I recently visited the optometrist to update the prescription of my eyeglasses.

The first thing that came to mind as I walked through the clear double doors of the clinic, was that I can't remember the last time I felt any sense of thrill or butterflies when entering situations that have become routine in my life.

As you can imagine, there's nothing thrilling about visiting the eye doctor for an annual check-up; which brought me to the realization that routines aren't boring, nor will they stir away the chances for exhilarating experiences to come anew.

I was in deep thought while sitting in the waiting room. I realized that I'm at that point of my undergraduate career that the tune to Pomp and Circumstance is marching into my central thoughts in a very slow crescendo.

The melody that will be the theme song of a very important milestone in my life doesn't sound so sweet, nor empowering when it's ringing in my ears to fill the void of my worries.

While I sat in the waiting room, I concentrated my eyes on a Keurig coffee maker and focused my hearing on the clicking of industrial gears to brass instruments humming Pomp and Circumstance.

I was sitting in a space with a self-service coffee bar, too shy to help myself to free coffee even though there was no one around to watch me. Stuck with my deep thoughts, my own company, I decided that being my timid-self in a four-by-eight feet wide waiting room is no way to go about my final semester of college.

Here is just a lil' note to your soon-to-be-grad self:

Graduation is what I like to call the moment you've been prepared for since day one.

You know how to hum the graduation march, and you know the comfort it will bring to your anxieties about surviving this time of your life — which people say you will never look as good as you did in college.

To put it simply, after graduating from this milestone called college, you'll be off to bigger, more bougie experiences and exciting careers.

Don't let the melody of Pomp and Circumstance haunt you. It's the theme song to the sunrise of new beginnings.