When I graduated from college, I told myself that I was never going to behave the way I had for the past four years. Especially since I was no longer going to be attending Thirsty Thursdays, Wasted Wednesdays and Tipsy Tuesdays, and there weren’t horny boys lurking around every corner. Essentially, ‘hooking up,’ in all of its glory, was taking a gracious bow out of my life.  And I accepted it. I was ready to burst into the world of dating, cute little kisses at my doorstep, waking up at 8 am alone and never again embarrassing myself when I walked home wearing a tutu and a Run DMC shirt.

My new mature self truly believed hooking up was for immature people who peaked in college. But not me. I was now an adult and completely grown out of my college meet-a-guy-in-the-corner-and-hump-him-against-a-wall self. Now I’d meet men in grocery stores and in passing on the sidewalk near the cigar shop. (What am I, 50?! Whatever, I saw it.) I had a little fantasy land in my mind where I would meet my knight in shining armor, he would work with numbers, wear a suit and have a passion for life so thick and deep, I would not be able to see the end of it.

I had no time for immature boys who wanted to spoon with me on a futon after we took red headed slut shots together at the bar and talked about Jurassic Park because it was “oh my gaw, so totally our favorite movie in grade school!”  I had no time for the silly guilt I’d feel the next morning until I smoothed it over with my girlfriends. And I had absolutely no tolerance for deciding mid-makeout sesh that I’d rather be eating a tortilla with cheese in my own bed.

But there is a soft twist. A soft “I’m-definitely-fooling-myself” twist (Mmm, anyone else totally want a Wetzel’s Pretzel right now?): I still wanted it.  I still wanted the excitement, the fun, the great stories in the morning. And it felt so wrong.

So I made it right. By no longer referring to my craving as “hooking up.” It’s so vulgar and expired! Post-grad Brittany doesn’t hook up, she has  ‘grown-up sleepovers.’

The problem with a grown-up sleepover is that it looks a lot like a college hook up, only in business casual attire. Whereas the hookup occurred between the hours of 2 and 8am, the sleepover can start as early at 10p.m. on a Friday. (What? Working a full week is exhausting!) And unlike the college hookup where you could opt out of Friday classes to stay in bed and snuggle with your buddy all day, the grown-up hookup comes to an abrupt end when that 6am alarm clock goes off and you gottta get up, get your English muffin and mango butter on, and fly out the door for your early morning staff meeting.

Also, did you know taxi cabs are a little bit harder to get when it’s 10 a.m. on a Sunday morning…in the suburbs?  Did you know that the walk of shame when you aren’t in college is a little more embarrassing, based on the fact the average age of the people around you are six years old or fifty plus? Did you know EVERYBODY goes to church on Sunday when you like to skip back to your apartment in wooden heels and a bedazzled shirt from Express?  Did you know that people are up and jogging at 8am on a Saturday (which used to be your safe time because no college student was ever out of bed before noon)?

Yeah, I didn’t either. But my adult self does.

And you know what else I know? That the only thing worse than waking up next to someone you know you shouldn’t be having sleepovers with is waking up and realizing that your post-grad liver can’t metabolize alcohol like it used to. Not only is morning fun out of the question (it’s hard to get it on with a little man jackhammering on your brain), but it’s hard to look cute and put together when you’re curled up in the fetal position and groaning about purple Gatorade.

But despite all that, at its core, the grown-up sleepover really doesn’t look so different. Post-grads still pick up people in bars, make out in bars, and later avoid one another in bars. There are still ridiculous stories, guys who have no idea what they’re doing, and that moment of fear when you wake up in the morning and have no idea what you’re going to wake up next to. The bottom line is: the only difference between and undergrad and a post-grad is a diploma. And having that little piece of paper doesn’t automatically turn you into some refined, classy, mature adult.

But I can still pretend, right?

Balance is really a simple science: if you have a scale and you put a brick on one side and a feather on the other, the brick is hitting the floor. I learned that lesson long ago and try to apply it in my everyday life, even when I’m making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich; if I don’t spread my peanut butter evenly enough on my piece of bread, and lay it on too thick on one end, I can barely get through it without gagging or being completely repulsed by its sticky and overwhelming existence.

But let’s talk about balance in my real life, yes? I mean, I could talk about peanut butter and jelly for days but in this case, the peanut butter is me and I’m just trying to spread myself evenly against the Wonderbread of life. Whoa, did I just go there? Yup, I did. I compared my life to PB&J. And I’m totally OK with that.

Lately, I’ll be honest, I’ve been finding it excruciatingly difficult to balance my personal life and spread myself evenly across everything I feel I need to do. I understand I can’t be good at everything (I learned that when I auditioned for choir….), but when it comes to balancing what’s important in my post-grad life, do I have to have to pick only one of the five things I want to excel in?

To explain better what I mean, I’ll pick five things that are most important to me: my job, my family, my friends and relationships, my ‘me’ time and taking care of myself.  Now – as a human being, I want to squeeze all of those in my daily life and pay attention to all of them.

I want to wake up, hammer the nail square into the head at my job.  And when I’m done with work, I want to call my friends and family and offer my attention equally to every single one of them.  Then after that, I want to have quiet time just for me while I paint my nails, pluck my eyebrows, work out, take my vitamins and be the healthy freak-version of myself.  Oh, and then I want to go out and dance around with my friends.  All in one day. Every day.

Doesn’t sound possible?  You’re probably right.  I agree, that previous description of my dream schedule probably isn’t possible, but it would be nice to come somewhat close.  While I want to pursue success in relationships, my job, and my personal self, it’s difficult to do so as a post-grad. Unlike my college days when I had 3 hours of class and 21 hours of nothingness, my time is limited after this whole 9-5 business. To be honest, I can barely find the time to do one thing well, never mind the other 4 or the 10,000 other things responsible adults need to take care of (laundry? Dishes? Pshaw). And it’s like some weird cycle, because knowing I can’t accomplish everything I want and need to only makes me stress out more than the original overwhelming to-do list already has.

OMG, real life is making me crazy.

I need to find a way to conquer this, before I have a complete post-grad meltdown. (Editor’s Note: Don’t worry – that’s just another post-grad milestone, honey!)

So I’ve come up with an idea, and it centers around lowering my expectations (which seems to be a theme in this life after college). Maybe I need to stop being so extreme about each element and just not expect as much from myself.  I need to be content knowing that a simple phone call to my mother could suffice for a day as opposed to struggling to get home for the weekend and giving them the attention they deserve.  I need to understand it’s impossible to grab coffee after work with all of my friends. I need to carve out a little time here and there to treat myself, instead of setting aside a ton of time and money for a full on spa day. If I tone down each quality of life I want to strive at, maybe I can find the means to spread them out evenly on my plate. And then everyone, especially me, can be happy.

Now I just need to find the time before work every morning to make my PB&J sandwich.

I come face to face with mistakes more than I’d like to admit.  In fact, they stalk my life worse than anything DJ Pauly D has ever encountered on The Shore. Today, I made the mistake of eating five chocolate dipped macaroons before going on an impromptu run outside. Let’s just say I haven’t felt a stomach cramp like that since, well, ever. And the other day,  I drank coffee after 3 P.M., unaware that I have the same internal workings as an 80-year-old woman.  I couldn’t fall asleep for days.  Not to mention, I had terrible heartburn.

But my mistakes don’t only involve internal bodily harm. The truth is, lately I’ve been behaving in weird, mysterious and dumb ways. I’ve partied on the occasional weekday. I went running back to a guy that didn’t deserve even the time it takes to bat an eyelash in his direction. I stopped working out because I thought eating less would make me happier.

Mistake, mistake, big (literally) mistake.

And while these self-inflicted issues continue to frolic my way, I always have that small glitter of reassurance. Reassurance in knowing that (even though I’ve learned the hard way), I’ll never do it again.  Hands on experiences and mistakes are always the best, right?  Once I learn the hard way, I learn. I learn to never make the same mistake twice. Right?

Wait, why is no one answering me?
Hello?
Bueller?
Am I right?!

I’m wrong.

And I’m not just talking about binge eating mini-macaroons before I go on a “run” around the block. As much as I’d like to believe it, Justin Bieber’s song, ‘One Time’ was NOT dedicated to the number of times I’d mess up. (It was also not dedicated to the amount of times I’d listen to Justin Bieber on repeat.) The hard truth is, I’m not an invincible superwoman that has the ability to make mistakes only once. Not at all.

Before I graduated and before I started messing up time and again, I thought I had them all figured out. I thought I’d learned my lessons. I’d had enough hung over Thursdays in college to know that drinking boxed wine at midnight on a Wednesday was not my best idea. And ever since I woke up one morning in college to a guy actually farting on my leg, I knew needed to screen potential suitors more seriously.

Yet here I am, a year later, making those same stupid mistakes again (well, the new guy isn’t farting on me, exactly, but he is acting like a piece of crap), and hating myself for it.

And it’s got to end.

Even though I am going down the wrong path yet again, I need to stop mentally beating myself up (“Why are you so stupid, Brittany? YOU ARE A COLLEGE GRAD!”) and realize that recycling mistakes might not be such a bad thing.

Remember that quote, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me?”  Well, I hate it. And not just because George Bush botched it so badly in that one speech that one time. It’s just way too much pressure for one human being.  So what if I go back for more? Maybe I’m just double checking to make sure a previous mistake wasn’t going to be a future glorious experience. Maybe this time around things will be different.

We live in a society where making mistakes multiple times makes us look naive, stupid and insecure, but I’ve come to learn that it doesn’t need to be that way. I mean, I’m already fragile and emotional enough; I don’t need yet another thing to beat myself up about. At the end of the day, I am only human; there is no way I can waltz through life only messing up once.

If I did, what would I be missing out on?

I knew things were going to be different after graduation.  I graduated high school and shiz did not go down in college like it did in high school funky town.  Like any transition in life,  things change.  And with change, I am suddenly given the chance to look back in my life rear view mirror, appreciate what’s been left in my past and look forward to the brand new things that are coming in my future.

Like any college girl, the only thing I could think about upon graduating was how I wouldn’t be able to wear sweatpants to buy Arizona Green Tea at the gas station at 2 P.M. on a Tuesday afternoon.  I knew I was going to miss spending entire days sprawled out on my futon, watching Grey’s Anatomy re-runs and ordering Jimmy Johns for my mid-afternoon snack. My college siesta hour(s) – every day from 2-4 – would no longer be there for me to utilize. And that is something I’ve missed.

I’ve also missed going to the caf with all of my girlfriends on Sunday morning to discuss the weekend’s events over soggy toast and cheesy eggs.  I’ve missed when spring finally came and all of the boys on campus would showcase their forearms, and that bubbly feeling inside me that came from knowing that in just a few more degrees, they would be drinking Coors in their backyard. Shirtless.

I miss having a careless and completely confident attitude in college.  I miss finding the utmost contentment in being surrounded by chaos and people all the time.  I miss getting caught up in crazy weekends with not a care in the world as to what anyone thought of me or the green wig I was wearing just for the hell of it (college kids do strange things for attention).  I miss dreaming about my future, instead of living it and constantly worrying about what’s coming next.

BUT, and there’s always a but, in my relentless quest to look on the bright side, I have discovered some beautifully poetic tid-bits about a post-grad life that I’ve come to really appreciate. Yes, there are some wonderful things about being on this side of the cap and gown.

My post-grad life has introduced me to the beauty of wine. I never used to appreciate a fine glass but now I understand the practice of slowing down a little bit, sipping a crisp glass of Riesling and reveling in its apricot taste (as opposed to pounding back shots of Patron). I also have come to enjoy happy hour.  Since I was always taking night classes in college, I finally have the time to run a train over happy hour waffle fries at Champs.

My post-grad life has also really made me appreciate weekends, for other reasons than sleeping off hangovers and going home to visit the family.  I really look forward to my Saturdays and Sundays now to get things done, go on impromptu trips and explore the eating scene around the city. (Hello, brunch and mimosas!)

As a post-grad, I love the feeling of progress and the fact I can finally sculpt my future without school as my backbone.  In college,  it seemed like graduation was a stone wall I could not see past.  As a post-grad, I’ve barreled over that wall into a place where I can see a sliver of light as I shimmy through my own future.  It’s a strangely relieving feeling.

I love to cook and bake, and that is something I definitely did not take up in college (partially because I didn’t know a spatula from my own hand).  Eating good food has a lot more meaning and importance now, and cooking it for myself is so strangely satisfying and therapeutic, I don’t know why I didn’t do it in college when I was spazzing out about registering for classes every semester. I love leisurely reading for pleasure and not having to worry about how much Finite Math reading I should be doing instead.

I love being forced to get up before the sun comes up for my job (this is NOT what I would say upon waking up, however) because it forces me to watch the sunrise.  I love making my own income, and finally pulling my own weight.  I love having a solid routine.  I love living out of the college dorm lifestyle and hanging up a painting instead of a James Dean poster.  I love lamp. Sorry, is it immature that I had to stick that in here?

I would like to take note that I did not transform from a sloppy broad into a classy, perfected woman right after I tossed my hat in the air.  In no way am I classy and in no way will I ever maintain the same stature as Kate Middleton just because I got a job and stopped peeing in public. I’ve just grown up a bit and learned to appreciate the new life I’m living. And surprisingly, there’s a lot to appreciate out here.

You got this, girl.

Alright post-grads, future post-grads, and people who think they are post-grads but are really just thirty-years-old and clinging on to their blissful youth.  For some reason as a post-grad myself, I’ve found it easiest to write about things that depress me.  I guess I just like an excuse to indulge in brownie sundaes nightly. But the truth is, the post-grad life isn’t depressing!  In reality, it’s a beautiful time for all of us to open doors after some have been slammed in our faces.  Think about the power you obtain in that single movement!

But I digress.

When we leave college, we immediately assume we’ve lost so much. And by so much, I mean everything. I’ll be straight up honest with you: when I was in college, I was an annoying, cocky, lady-child (in the best way possible). I think it had something to do with the fact that while I was living the dream, napping intensely during the week, drinking until 3AM, getting in everywhere for free as long as I flashed someone my boobs student ID – basically living like a homeless celebrity – I felt as if nothing could get past me.

College was my own protective placenta of awesomeness; a slice of time when I could bask in everything that was working out for me (i.e. free food, a semi-careless attitude, eating whatever sat in front of me, not worrying about what anyone thought).  I know I’m completely sounding like a cocky a**hole, but college made me feel weirdly confident.  I felt like I could do anything, dream anything and, most importantly, see everything clearly.  Perhaps it was some evolved pair of college beer goggles, but I saw everything without any glitches, scratches or worries.  I knew that by the end of the semester I would have survived somehow and I could look forward to a fresh slate in January.

When I graduated, though, I lost that college invincibility factor.  I was no longer sitting on the top of the world or starring in my own personal Fantasia movie, controlling whatever I wanted with my ‘I-don’t-give-a-sh*t’ magic wand.  I was sitting in a world engulfed by people who would not adhere to me, who wouldn’t pay my loans and who didn’t give a rat’s about how entirely awesome I was at college.

I tried to get back in touch with that ‘amazingness’ factor for so long but couldn’t find it because I didn’t have college to back me up.  I didn’t have all my friends constantly telling me how fun the weekend had been. I didn’t have professors praising me for joining clubs on campus. I didn’t have parents patting my back when I made it on the Dean’s List or did well on a test.  I left college and suddenly, an amazing, satisfying life was entirely up to me. I no longer had college to define what was happening. I needed to define this new life myself.

Well, that’s scary…

…And the soul reason why I think everyone should keep a piece of that college cockiness within them (in good measure, of course) as a post-grad and hold it close to their heart.  Many people view cockiness as a negative quality, but I believe cockiness can be turned into an element of confidence that helps us get by. Especially when we’re facing the unknown head-on. We don’t need to shove cockiness in other’s faces (i.e. make YouTube videos where we talk about how amazing we are and how our bodies are fueled with Tiger Blood); we can simply remind ourselves of our personal greatness (because we’ve all got it, girls, even if it doesn’t feel like it right about now) and use it to believe in ourselves and push ourselves forward.

In college, I believed I could do anything I wanted, from acing a class to bonging 2 beers in one funnel. As a post-grad, I continually want to believe I can do anything.  I want to feel invincible.  And I don’t want to have to chug a few shots of liquid courage to get there. (Trust me – drinking just isn’t as easy when you’re out of college. Sad face.) That is when I channel my inner cocky college girl. I don’t need my friends or parents or teachers to back me up here; I got everything I need to kick ass out here and take some names (and numbers. Call me, boys!). I’m an adult, dammit. A woman. I learned everything I need to know about my profession and have the skills I need to be successful out here.

I know it now, so I’m lifting my head up and forging on.

I used to just be really good at college, but now I’ve got a whole new list of things to feel good about. Watch out, world – cocky bitch comin’ through.

When I was a little girl and thought of growing up, I closed my eyes and saw a life full of prosperity. I saw a world where I could do what I loved most, play Barbies in my spare time, and make a lot of money being a veterinarian, curing boxes of adorable puppies on a daily basis.  Then when I turned thirteen and reality was a little clearer, Celine Dion proved to me I had the pipes to belt out ‘My Heart Will Go On’ until my heart (and those around me) would not go on any longer.  I knew that someday I would date Justin Timberlake because we were at the same place in our musical careers and we could understand each other.

When I graduated high school and Justin Timberlake started dating Cameron Diaz, I knew I had to pick an alternative life.  It took some time (and a few people cringing at the sound of my voice), but I soon realized I could not be the next pop artist. Instead, I would go to college and dig into its grab bag of opportunity.

I wanted to find out who and what I wanted to be.  And I had a four-year time crunch.

When I graduated, I was pushed into a world full of options.  At first, I took all of the options, put them in a sack that was my mind and tried them on one by one.  Some were good (interning at CollegeCandy, FTW!), and others not so much (clerical work just isn’t my thang), and as time went on, I realized one thing: I needed to do something that struck my passionate heart strings. I knew I could deal with whatever my occupation tossed me from then on if I had a big ass crush on it.

So I chose writing. It is something that has always made me happy and decided that no matter what the job, I wanted to do virtually anything that involved taking out a piece of paper and decorating it with some witty, smart, and entertaining scribble.  Relief set in when I decided to strive towards this goal in life. Finally, I had some direction! A path to follow. It was calming to know that I finally had a clue and now all I had to do was make it happen.

But I soon discovered that finding our passion is the easiest part about the growing up process. (You mean it gets harder? Pass the fudge, please.)  The molding it into something real is where things get difficult.

You see, running after my dream job came with its own set of problems. I had two options:  I could be passionate and really dive into my field head first without any guarantee that it would ever work out, or I could be completely practical. You know, take any job, make some money, whatever. Being practical was obviously tempting because I knew I could get a solid job outside of my field right away, make money, live on my own, pay my loans and move along.

But did I really want to work a job that’s only benefit was that it was secure, or struggle in a field where my card may not be dealt until I was ready to retire?

That’s probably the toughest question any recent post-grad will face, and one that kept me up, staring at my ceiling, for weeks.

I went back and forth (money or passion, passion or money, live with my parents forever or have a sick apartment and a job I loathe?), until one day I climbed out of my childhood bed and decided that it doesn’t have to be an either/or situation. It doesn’t have to be love or loathe, success or failure. In a moment of post-grad clarity (which are much less frequent than post-grad meltdowns), I realized that we can balance our passion with some practicality.  We can choose our passions and we can use practicality to get there. We can start at the bottom, prove ourselves, and work our way up (practical), until we end up in the job we’re head over heels in love with (passion).

We may not get there right away, but that’s OK. At this point in the game, I am content in knowing that my passion is strong enough to get me where I want to be in the end.

Maybe it’s the high of finally getting a job that I actually love (go me!), but I truly believe all of us should do what makes us happy. And I truly believe it’s possible to do so. It might take a little time and some sacrifice, but there is a future out there for every one of us that is as wonderful as it is practical.

Except maybe marrying Justin Timberlake; who knows how long we’re going to have to wait for him to break up with Jessica Biel??

Read more about the ups and downs of Brittany’s post-grad life and empathize with her here.

The following post is written by Josh Olson from UNC, one of our many friends at Uloop, a student powered marketplace. Read more great posts in their blog.

Straight from the dorm onto the street. This might seem to be the fate threatening college students graduating in our current economic doldrums. But there may be hope. There are methods for making yourself more appealing to potential employers. There are ways to manicure your resume; and there’s always the internship option. But you already knew that.

Here are some somewhat less conventional ways to avoid those unemployment lines after graduation.

1. Build a personal brand. This involves gaining experience, having concrete accomplishments, and establishing yourself as “somebody” in your job-market. It is closely intertwined with networking (see No. 3 below) because it requires that you figure out where the big-shots in your industry gather. Do they flock to the Twitterverse? Do they go to conventions? Building a personal brand necessitates that you answer these questions, do something noteworthy, and then go where the big-shots are to gain visibility.

2. Develop the Skills that Your Future Employer Needs. Ask yourself: “Do I have skills that a future boss would need?” If the answer is no, simply figure out what those skills are and develop them while in college. This is closely allied to No. 4 (start a small business) because there is no boot-camp like business to force you into obtaining new skills.

3. Network (Twitterize). In olden times, those who succeeded in life were those who had connections. This is still true today. Fortunately, today you don’t have to rely on an aristocratic pedigree: you can engineer a connection network via social media. In particular, Twitter is excellent for allowing you to meet and network with people you would never have met otherwise. In the Twitterverse you can rub elbows with the big-shots, who are much more accessible there than in any other context.

4. Start a Small Business. This has three advantages. First, it will build your character and work ethic. Second, it will prove to prospective employers that you won’t be dead weight. Third, it will force you to develop many skills that will prove attractive to employers. Concrete accomplishments are more impressive than beautiful resumes. Businesses want doers and go-getters. Entrepreneurship is a marker of these traits.

I don’t know who I want to succeed more, me or Justin Beiber.  The fact J-Beebs sold out Madison Square Garden at the ripe age of sixteen puts me in a really difficult position with my personal standards.  And the fact I’m comparing my life to a pre-pubescent child puts me in a really difficult position with my personal reputation.

All throughout my college life, I felt like I was being shoved into a giant, human cannon.  I was constantly finding ways to shove myself, my tasty thighs, my college-ego, my giant boobs, my reputation, my GPA, into a compact space.  That’s a lot of bullsh*t to squeeze inside something that is eventually going to catapult me into the real world unprepared.  Thanks a million, life cannon.

After being shot into the real world, I picked up a dirty habit. While being thrown into something I was totally unprepared for (ehem, hey real world!  It’s a pleasure!) it became nearly impossible to find any satisfaction in my life.  I was so overwhelmed with emotions and goals, I became an angry, judgmental girl. And who saw the brunt of all that negativity?

Me.

Lately, I have become increasingly hard on myself.  I never acquired this nasty habit while I was in college – I was completely self-involved with surviving day by day, enjoying every moment, and not giving a shitake mushroom about what people thought of my sexy time hair while I walked past church service on Sunday morning.  Did I just give a shitake mushroom shout-out in this post?

Regardless, since graduation I’ve been insanely hard on myself.  With everything.  Because I haven’t attained any life goals yet as I expected and hoped, I’ve had a hard-on for perfecting my every action, relationship, personal flaw and situation.  To top it off, I’ve been constantly trying to please everyone that is involved with my life; friends, family, co-workers…

A few of my girlfriends moved to Spain to teach for a year.  Although I know they will always love me, I never want to let them down by failing to communicate with them enough.  Since I’m not surrounded by my friends on campus, I pressure myself to communicate with them as much as (and probably more than) humanly possible. Still, I never feel like I’m doing enough and wake up in a cold sweat, afraid that they’re mad at me or have completely forgotten about me.

And that’s only the beginning…

I’m starting a new job and as yet another thing at which I want to excel, the thought of screwing up at all scares the pulp out of me.  I’m always nervous I’m going to trip, make a mistake or misjudge something.  I understand we all make mistakes but I can’t help thinking that during this point in my life I can’t make mistakes.  I can’t get it out of my head that even the smallest glitch in the process could screw up a friendship, a job, an opportunity…anything.  Somehow, I’m hard on myself because in order to please me, I have to please others or the goals others expect me to reach. Doesn’t that seem silly?  Why do I feel like I need to go through other outlets to find personal satisfaction?

In the whirlwind brain slosh that are my worries, I rip myself apart on a daily basis.  I have so many stress zits, and the skin on my fingernails looks like a battlefield.  I’m constantly holding my own personal evaluations, judging how well I’m doing.

I think the constant pressure to be perfect has something to do with being truly independent for the first time.  In college, I was surrounded by others.  Although I thought I was all on my own, I really had a collective group of people to help define who I was.  After college, I have myself and it’s up to me and me alone to make my now and my future happen.  That puts a lot of pressure on one young and ruthlessly determined human being.  I no longer have others to aid in accomplishing goals; I have my single self to worry about and that’s the scariest thing in the world.

I recently learned about the French tradition to celebrate what other people consider your flaws. They can be physical flaws, or even emotional flaws.  For example, if you’re short you should wear flats and embrace something others don’t necessarily view as beautiful.  When I do this and embrace my flaws, I no longer worry.  I no longer waste my time and emotional energy to consider what others think about my differences, constantly try to change them, or feel the relentless need to please others with my accomplishments and decisions.  I shouldn’t be afraid to have flaws or admit them;  they define who I am, not anyone else.

We learned this in grade school, peepsies. Take it from Alice and Wonderland:

“You cannot live life to please others, the choice must be yours; because when you step out to fight that creature, you will step out alone.”

On that note, when you’re finished reading this, run over to the nearest mirror you own (or pick up your iPhone…my personal mirror of choice) look at yourself and say this out loud: “You’re doing the best you can. Good job, b*tch!” Take it from me, if you do that often enough, eventually you’ll believe it. And that makes for a much more pleasant and stress-free existence.

Read more about the ups and downs of Brittany’s post-grad life and empathize with her here.

I have a strong belief that this column is about being extremely honest – even if my reputation as a stable human being is on the line. So, you wanna hear a depressing story? (Note: I think the following confession may have something to do with having to listen to Fergie squak for a ten-minute halftime show on Sunday.)

I woke up this morning at a ripe 6AM to put on my face and go to work. I felt like someone had poked me in between the eyes with a two-by-four and sat on my face the entire night.  I really need to stop assuming I’ll have the energy of a type A spider monkey after going to bed at 12AM.

Anyways, I slowly slithered into the shower, let the beads of hot water run down my face and….cried. I started crying in the shower. Good. Lord. (And no, that’s not me in the pic. I didn’t invite someone in to take pictures of this most lowest of lows.)

Contrary to popular belief, I’m not depressed. Although it may seem that way since I was crying in the shower on a Monday morning, it’s nothing like that. I’m very happy with my life. I’m a very lucky person and to top it off, I’m young and have great hair.

So, where is the crying on command coming from, you ask? Allow me to put on my fake doctor hat for a moment and do a little self-diagnosis. What I have is ‘Why-am-I-Here?’ syndrome, a post-grad condition that starts with a waiting game and ends with a waste of time.

I believe ‘the syndrome’ happens to all of us (at least I hope it does for the sake of my well-being). I constantly put myself in a place where I need to know that what I am currently doing is correct. I need to know that I am in the right place, on the right path, not wasting any time. And all the while, I’m anxiously waiting for that next big thing.

In high school, it was deciding which college was going to help define me. In college, it was deciding which occupation was going to make me happy and fulfilled.  But suddenly as a post-grad, a freakish hole in the system exposes itself.  Suddenly, once school and occupation have been discovered, I’m left evaluating these choices.  Did I do the right thing?  Is this what I’m suppose to be doing with my life?  What if I did this instead?  What if I could do something else?

Options, which seemed so wonderful before, have become the enemy.  There are so many things I can do with my life and the sensory overload makes my feel somewhat alone.  Isn’t that crazy?  How, when I am finally bombarded with choices galore, do I only see the opportunity to make the wrong one?

I moved out of my parents’ house, I got myself a job that I authentically enjoy, and I can’t help wondering if I’m doing the right thing.  I’m constantly questioning myself and constantly waiting to become a person I ideally want to be.  In my head, I’m always a few steps behind of where I imagined I’d be at this point in my life.  I’m constantly questioning myself and wondering if I want something different now, something that’s easier to attain so I can fulfill my goal quicker and find that content version of myself I’ve always craved.

The most frustrating part is that I seem to be waiting to become some ideal, unrealistic version of myself.  I ask, ask, ask, ask ‘what am I doing here?‘  I wait to become, smarter, more organized, thinner, more successful…and all the while, I’m sitting in my shower alone.  Crying into my shower head.  Doing absolutely nothing about it.

I’ve come up with a mind medication (if you will) for my ‘why-am-I-here’ syndrome diagnosis.

In the end, (not to sound like a sappy mess) it is all about the moment.  Rest assured if I focus on that, I will remain happy.  I waste so much time worrying about who, where, and what I’m supposed to be.  And most of the time, it’s for other people – not even myself.  If I focused on the moment at hand and didn’t let moments flash by unnoticed, I think I would be a lot more content.

As a post-grad, I want to stop wishing moments away solely because I want my ‘waiting game’ to end.  Why do I think that who I am will be defined by others on someone else’s clock? Why can’t who I am be who I am right now? I’m ready to stop waiting and asking.  I’m ready to stop letting time pass in order to answer some stupid question.  And most importantly, I’m ready to let my post-grad life truly begin.

See what else Brittany’s been dealing with since graduation right here.

[Life after college is different for every single grad. While some might be going to grad school, others enter the real world in attempts to make their dreams come true pay off their student loans. We've been following Charlsie on her post-grad journey since September, but now it's time to check see what someone else's post-grad life brings. (But don't worry - Charlsie will still be writing!) So ladies, allow me to introduce you to Brittany and her tumultuous life after college.]

I’m having a pre-mid-life crisis.

And I can’t even buy a red Corvette and put the top down and drive to my Beverly Hills condo in complete dismay.  I can’t go to a nice cocktail bar and cheat on my fat, hairy husband.  I can’t even obtain a sugar daddy to buy me a bangin’ new set of tits. All I can do is attack my Netflix, fall back on an old high school flame, and stare at my empty PayPal account.

Twenty-somethings are not supposed to feel the way I do.

I feel like I’m at an AA group to talk about my feelings, but here it is, as honest as I can be.  I graduated a decade nine months ago.  In Hollywood years, that’s about five.  I could have popped out a set of twins with Charlie Sheen by now, or at least put myself on Teen Mom and physically abused my crack head baby daddy.

But, no.  In the past nine months of post-grad life, I’ve had five internships, lots of hot dogs (the only thing I can afford/enjoy at the same time) and many tweaked out conversations with my mother (i.e. “AM I DOING THE RIGHT THING WITH MY LIFE!??).

While I search for a glamorous job, a spicy love life, and a easy breezy life on my own, I’m constantly motorboated by reality.  And I’m suffocating.  Although I know everyone my age is rowing the same (sinking) boat, I feel like I’m completely alone.  This is the most melodramatic I’ve been in my entire life.  I don’t even remember being this ridiculous when I got my period for the first time.

After I graduated, I lived at my parents’ house for six months.  Like I said, six months in Hollywood I could have made a sex tape or texted Brett Favre. But no, six months at home while I finished my fourth internship and perfected a lagging four months of unemployment made me feel as useless as a submarine with screen portholes.

In a triumphant attempt to get another job, I landed myself another internship in January.  For being a double major graduate from a prestigious private school (that I’ll be paying for until I’m as old as Betty White) I expected a little more out of my future. Now I’m just praying for something. Anything.

I decided that while I wasn’t making my dreams come true, the least I could do was get a change of scenery so I moved out of my parents and in with some friends. And so my mid-life crisis began.  After living away from home for a month I’ve never felt so over-worked, under-appreciated and tired in my life. I’ve become addicted to high end fashion blogs and I can’t afford anything.  I want to write my own book someday, but the time and money required to do so just don’t exist.  While I don’t have time to stress out about my future, I find stress in weird and frequent circumstances. I cried when they didn’t have the hot dog buns I like at the grocery store last week.

Regardless, I’m excited to share this journey with all of the lovely CollegeCandy readers. Mostly because while I feel inhuman this way, I know I’m not the only one.  It’s easy to feel undefined, confused and incompetent at this age.  But I know I’m not alone.  While I understand the post-grad life is just a frustrating phase, I can live with knowing it’s a flexible one.  And as stubborn as I may be, I refuse to not take a lesson away from all of it.

As I navigate my life after college, I have the power to define who I am without any help from anyone else.  That alone, beats one day in Hollywood.

Cheers to being a post grad, and here’s to the journey.