I’m terrified to grow up.
There, I said it. It’s out in the open. No longer do I need to modify, hide my thoughts, feelings about graduating in one month exactly, today actually– May 16, 2013 and going off into the work force. I’ll join the crowd of hungry graduates yearning for jobs in their field. Sending resume after resume after resume and cover letter after cover letter after cover letter to various places to obtain their dream job.
Ps, unless you’re freakin lucky as a duck, you won’t get that dream job of yours until you’re like.. what’s the age now? Late twenties? Well, I guess until you get to grad school and become even more in debt to come to realize that your Master’s Degree didn’t help, but instead, just made you fork out money that you never had just to get a “good” job.
Let me ask you– where are these “good” jobs hiding now-a-days, under rocks? I think so.
People my age will sift, search, look and discover themselves this summer–hopefully. Some will be successful and some will end up with a BA working at Mickey D’s because they didn’t job search in time. Others will get that decent job because they wrote and worked on their resume way in advance so matters like these wouldn’t happen.
We’re just trying to find ourselves this summer as college graduates.
I go to the Big Apple three days a week, scared to death because I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone. I don’t have the protection of school and familiar faces on the street to save me. Instead, I see rude, smelly and mean people rushing and pushing me to make their way onto the Subway. There are bundles of kids in backpacks, families holding hands and those famous New Yorkers in their skinny jeans and sunglasses. I tell myself, I want this. I want this. I want this.
In order for me to feel safe, I must do something constantly for a number of years. At Bucks, I felt safe because I was surrounded by people who I knew. Eventually, when I was settled, I felt the same at Temple. HOWEVER, now, I know NO ONE. I have no clue who anyone is. I’m doing this all on my own without a soul by my side. I am completely alone.
Even though I am literally terrified beyond belief, I do it. And, I tell myself, I want this. I want this so freakin’ bad that I can taste it, smell it, feel it, grab for it, need it, yearn for it, devour it, desire it and long for it.
I always promise myself that I’ll be okay. I can do this. I’ll be fine. I talk myself off the ledge. I tell myself to keep moving forward and don’t look back. Never look back! If I look back, I’ll see you and I won’t want to move. I’ll want to continue in the same spot. The same awful situation where I work at a retail job, with little pay and babysitting on the side. No, I don’t want that life. I have to get my shit together, get my shit straightened out. I know this. I know this already.
But, in reality, I’m not ready. In no way am I ready to graduate nor am I ready for this NYC thing. Could I really just up and move there if I obtained a job? I’m exhausted traveling from PA to NYC for three days. How would I do it for five?! I’m beat, exhausted, tired, every sort of tired that’s possible. I’m barely functioning anymore. I’m trying so hard to understand these editors demands, but it can be quite difficult to focus due to my learning disability.
No, no, no, I don’t bring it up. I don’t mention it because I wouldn’t want them to treat me differently. Treat me like I’m special or something, talk to me like I’m 5. Nope, I’m not. I wish I was at times, but I’m not ever going to be.
Changes–The real kind.
I’ve fruited around long enough. Enough is enough. I’m done. I’m graduating. This is real. This is no longer a joke. I have to order my cap & gown. I’m going to pick up the tickets next Tuesday. It will become a reality when I step onto that stage in my attire and grab my diploma.
I’ve stalled, avoided, sidestepped and prolonged this graduating thing. Not anymore. Accept it now or don’t. What’s it gonna be? Well, since I don’t have a choice, I need to accept it.
Internship? Job? Freelance? All of the above. If possible, yes ma’am! I want it.
I’m yearning for it. I have the urge, the hunger to become a magazine writer. THAT’S my dream– to become a magazine writer. All of those magazines.. which direction to go in.. which to choose.. what to do.. decisions, decisions.
Hey, let’s go, I graduate in a month. Move it along, Hope Marie!