I can’t believe I missed my own birthday/anniversary! Today as I sat at the sorority house while some of my sisters were getting ready to go out, I realized that I had started blogging this time last year.
I’d say a lot has happened in that year. I graduated. I got a part-time job, more gigs in the mag world, and into grad school. I learned to cook more things than just cheese tortillas (boiling water for pasta was a big step). I became addicted to Netflix. I had a random guy ask me for my number for the first time. I visited Boston. I saw some amazing concerts and signed my first apartment lease. I did some things I had always wanted, and definitely discovered some new things about myself.
I wasn’t ready for a lot of it. I’m not as ‘disheveled’ as I was in my first post– although I’m still quite uncertain. But it’s cool. I like where I’m at, who I’m with, and where I’m going. And there are a lot more unexpected things to come.
This never would have been a Saturday night in college. Where’s my life gone?
I also do other cool things like go to bed early (when I’m not working too much), spend copious amounts of time alone, go to movies by myself, talk to my neglected pet fish, and attempt to plan my meals for the week.
Never graduate if you can help it.
Is a Slim 6 with chips and a drink, please and thank you.
It has recently come to my attention that I need to figure my shit out. Almost twice daily I get asked, “What do you want?” The questions are about life, graduate school, work and relationships. I answer “I don’t know” to every single one of them. Sometimes, I don’t even know what I don’t want.
This. Is. Alarming. I am dangerously close to becoming “the girl who had so much potential” when she graduated. (Actually, I don’t think the Journalism school would give me any credit, but Arts and Sciences might back that statement up).
Since I am not exactly ready to answer the “What do you want?” question, I am going to explore what factors play into what I do (and do not) want, in a series of posts. Because, let’s be honest, no 23-year-old wannabe-grad-student should be so damn unsure about everything but her Jimmy John’s order.
Loneliness is weird. You can feel lonely when you’re actually alone, in a busy place, or even with your closest friends. It certainly doesn’t discriminate the time or place. I feel personally, physically, and situationally lonely. Like, no one else can understand how scared I am that this GRE is going to be a failure. That I’m not going to get into grad school. That everything I worked hard for in college is going to be wasted. That I’m not as smart or talented as people seem to think I am. I’m terrified about money, the future, and jobs. I’ve started to slowly lose friends that I would give the world for, which makes me feel lonelier still.
But what I’m finding is that this is more or less the status quo for most female twenty-somethings (which you think I would have known, seeing as it is the baseline plot for 90% of chic lit). I guess it’s normal to be frustrated and feeling like nothing is in your control, but I hate it. I hate being that girl. The girly emotional girl. The scared girl. The unconfident and jaded girl. I’m not her, but I act like her sometimes. And I’m totally unnerved at the thought of things not improving. I can take little reassurance in the thought that I’m not alone. But I would almost rather I were, because it would be a lot more uplifting if I knew things were okay for other people.
I spent a lot of time beating myself up this first month of post-graduation life. Why don’t I have a job? Why aren’t I more happy? Where’s the beef? And all other important life questions. Sure, I’ve blamed a hefty amount on the economy. Rightfully so. Yet I do have peers who have moved on to bigger and better things despite this job crisis. And for whatever purpose, I seem to think that comparing myself to them is right. But just because we’ve graduated at the same time, maybe taken a couple classes together here and there, doesn’t mean my objectives are the same. And that’s something I need to remember.
I left Drake after a well-invested four years. I’ve had a variety of friends, a handful of odd jobs, and an assortment of activities, organizations, and honors. Not to mention a double major and a minor, with a GPA I am proud of. What I didn’t do is limit myself. Nor was I overly focused. Instead I lived life. And despite where I think I should be career wise, I wouldn’t have changed those four years for anything–even a sweet gig at my favorite magazine, or a high paying job and a big city penthouse (although, it’s a tough one to say no to).
Graduating college in a shitty economy isn’t exactly conducive to the dreams I had when I graduated high school. But I decided to roll with the punches and apply to grad school. A legitimate choice, if not feeling a bit like I’m stalling. But my plans are slowly being foiled. Upon applying for the GRE general and GRE subject, I found out I can’t take the subject until testing opens again–in 2010. If you follow my problem, this means I can’t apply for 2010 enrollment. Which places me three years of out undergrad, and 25 years of age before I can get into grad school. Sure, this gives me the chance to thoroughly learn French. BUT STILL. 2011? That means I might be in the class of 2016. I will be so old. I should effing have a job and a life at that point. I shouldn’t even be getting a Masters. Might as well go for a Doctorate. So I can be Dr. Old-Cat-Lady.