"If I clean this toilet I can have a beer tonight."

I’m constantly amazed at how challenging it is to be an adult. It’s like everyday there’s something new I have to do that won’t get taken care of unless I actually take the initiative to do it.

I’ve basically had to turn into a parent for myself in order to get anything done. I remind myself to do things repeatably even though I heard myself the first time, I nag myself incessantly to do gross chores around the apartment, and I even discipline and reward myself with a behavior chart I keep on the fridge. Five gold stars mean I can go out for happy hour on Friday.

I’ve recently put myself in time-out (spent all day on the couch watching whatever Sandra Bullock movie TBS plays) for breaking curfew and I’ve lectured myself about not taking vitamins when I started sniffling last week. I’m at the point that I think my actual mother feels left out when she calls because I’ve already covered her territory. She calls expecting an opportunity to nurture (tell me what to do) and instead she gets a co-parent complaining about misbehavior and paying the cable bill on time.

While I’ve enjoyed being a parent to myself and ending each night with a warm glass of milk and Goodnight Moon, I’ve started to wonder when I will transition from being a faux-adult to being a real one. Read More »

"OMG! I forgot I packed all these empty Bacardi bottles!"

At the end of senior year I shoved all my belongings into boxes and garbage bags without using any kind of rational order or logic. Whatever could fit in my boxes went in — and whatever couldn’t fit got thrown away.

Perfectly good pots and pans ended up in the dumpster (and soon after in a dumpster diver’s kitchen) while perfectly useless items like homemade off the shoulder t-shirts got rolled in bubble wrap and packed away.

This past weekend I moved into my new apartment and began unpacking all my boxes. It was like 8 nights of Hanukkah all rolled into one. I had forgotten I owned half of that stuff so each time I reached into a box and pulled something out it was like winning a raffle. The kind of raffle where you win prizes that are good for a laugh, yet have no purpose…a broken shower radio, a dirty mug, stolen freshman year dorm posters, a lime green shoe bag, 75,000 dryer sheets.

Basically nothing useful or even decorative for my new apartment. But they come from college and even though they should have been thrown out months ago, I can’t bear to part with them now. I held up every item and explained to my mother what each one meant to me. However she was increasingly less entertained as my stories got more personal. She finally cut me off at  “oh here’s the pregnancy test I – I mean my roommate – used one time she thought she was pregnant.” Read More »

No, that is not me. I'd never get drunk enough to wear a belly shirt.

I went back to Syracuse for homecoming weekend and effectively destroyed any part of my liver that was still functioning. While I had an amazing time reuniting with friends and walking to the bars while shivering in the pouring rain (man I’ve missed that Syracuse weather), I also learned that I’m officially not a college kid anymore. I honestly don’t know how I spent four years drinking every. single. weekend. on little to no sleep.

By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around I was curled up in fetal position nibbling on saltines and sucking on ice chips. All I wanted to do on the drive home was shut my eyes — which I would have done if the passengers in the car I was driving hadn’t objected so strongly.

The drunker I got, the more tired I got of having to answer the question, “what are you doing now?” So I began telling people I’m a graduate student at DeVry University and handing out a playing card as my business card. It didn’t take too long for people to stop asking me about my employment status. I did almost start a fake pregnancy rumor about myself but then refrained just in case karma hit me hard and I actually turned out to be with child. However, the pregnancy rumor would have explained why I threw up in the morning. Morning sickness sounds a lot more mature than a hangover. Read More »

I got a job!!!

All my tears, temper tantrums, panic attacks, stress-induced friend fights, and violent rages towards my parents turned out to be totally worth it. I’m on my way to getting a full time job. And by that I mean that I’m now working three freelance blogging jobs and making enough money to support myself for at least one to three months depending on how long I can sustain myself on a water and table scraps diet.

One blog is about the postgrad realty market, one is geared towards men’s humor, and the last is all about liberating and embracing a woman’s sexuality. So by the time I get done with a week of writing all three, I’ll be the only certified realtor that can make hilarious fart jokes while imparting the seriousness of bra burning. If that’s not a pick-up line in a bar, then cat’s got my tongue (I’m aiming to write for a blog entirely composed of idioms if anyone’s got a lead). Read More »

If I’ve learned nothing else since graduating (I’ve learned nothing else), I have learned that everyone turns into Dear Abby when they meet an unemployed person. I’ve gotten enough advice to write at least fourteen whole blogs on this topic, but don’t worry I’ll contain myself this time.

“Look on the the Internet for Jobs” – Esther Rosenwiezencrantz, age 85
Oh really, the internet? Is that where they are? Well darn, I can stop circling help wanted ads in the newspaper and turn on that new-fangled computer that sits in the corner of my room. I guess I just turn on this internet thing and a million jobs appear.

“Go to Grad School” – 10 +People in Grad school
Actually, I’ll tell you what, that advice isn’t applicable to my situation. I want to start making money, not go to grad school for something I’m not interested in and leave in more debt… and still unemployed. Read More »

"We're fine! We've got diplomas!"

Yesterday, President Obama urged students to stay in school.  He said that you can’t drop out of school and expect to drop into a good job. Well, apparently, you can’t drop into a good marriage either.

According to National Affairs, there is a higher divorce rate in non-college-educated couples vs. those who earned a degree. I wonder why that is? My personal opinion is that after four years of whoring around school and testing the waters, college grads were finally able to pick their favorite brand of life-partner.

Alternatively, maybe they honed their patience skills after spending four years battling academia. Years of exams, presentations and thesis papers have made marriage look like a piece of cake, comparatively.

Yet maybe college grads have a lower divorce rate because after sharpening their minds and taking a logical look at the institution of marriage, they opt not to marry at all. Saving themselves from expensive weddings, shared checking accounts and intrusive in-laws all together.

Most likely, though? Those divorced non-college grads probably never made it to college ‘cuz they got married at 18 before they knew any better and realized too late an X-box-playing husband isn’t so adorbs after all.

Whatever the reason, stay in school, people. You may not be able to get a job right now, but at least you’ll nab yourself a husband. For life.

I remember crying as I packed for college a gazillion years ago and freaking out that I would never really be coming home again in the same way. But, the second I got home for Thanksgiving break, I realized exactly how wrong I was about that. My house was just as I left it (minus a few things my sister borrowed, stretched out, and left in the trunk of the car) and despite being insanely more educated, my family didn’t treat me any differently. I still fought with my sister over the remote (The Nanny reruns, really?), I still was expected to help with the dishes (ugh), and I still had to tell my mom in excruciating detail where I was going when I left the house.

However this past June when I left to go to New York I went through the exact same emotions, overly dramatic arm flailing and unattractive tears galore as I packed up. And once again, I proved myself wrong. I went home this past week to take a break from adult responsibilities, such as job hunting and obsessively updating my Linkedin and I discovered that still nothing changed. Read More »

My third (and, god willing, final) internship ended last week. Even though I left without a job offer or a hint at a job offer, I did manage to fit some quality ballpoint pens, a stack of Post-its,  and a pack of printer paper in my purse on the way out. So not only do I have tons of jobless free time on my hand, I also have the basic arts and crafts supplies needed to make 513 paper airplanes with personalized post-it notes attached.

Life is good.

A downside to the end of my internship is no longer having an answer when people ask what I do. Intern sounds downright glamorous compared to unemployed. Hence why I choose to exaggerate the truth and choose my words more wisely. Writing this blog equals freelance journalist, making my lunch equals part time catering, and spamming my brother’s Facebook page equals social media marketing. Read More »

"I miss Welcome Week." Sigh.

Lately it seems like Facebook is on a mission (aided by the company that sells prozac) to make me feel suicidal every time I sign on. For weeks all the status updates and albums were “lovin’ summer” and “will it ever stop raining this summer?” I could easily relate to those as I was also experiencing summer and the torrential rain showers of ‘09.

However, now I sign on and I have to see this:

Jessie can’t wait for classes to start up!
Shar regrets that first night back jungle juice!
Alissa accidentally packed her keys into the trunk but it won’t stop her from getting to school!

And all these statues and declarations of school spirit are forcing me to realize that I’m officially not going back to school…although my diploma has yet to come, so that’s actually still questionable. For the first time in my entire life (I started school mere months after birth) I’m not buying fresh new school supplies and I’m not sitting in classes trying to read the professor’s mind and decide if she is really going to give pop reading quizzes. I don’t even know what to do with my hands if they’re not flipping through syllabi. Read More »

Where's the keg? Where's the dancing? Where are the drunk people making out?!

There’s nothing like an exclusive party in Manhattan to make you feel cool. Likewise there’s nothing like a six story walk up to make you feel out-of-breath as well as out-of-shape.

This past weekend I was invited to a friend’s brother’s uncle’s neighbor’s housewarming party at a West Village penthouse. I went not only because I liked casually slipping it into conversation that I was going to a roof party, but also because I’m constantly trying to figure out the secret to going from a post-grad intern to a real employee who can afford to pay rent on an apartment. It’s a mind boggling mystery to me but I’m determined to solve it.

However, mingling with all these employed-and-insured people made me realize that I shouldn’t be so worried about finding a job. These people were only twenty-five and yet they had more complaints than my grandparents after they forget to take their diuretics. They’re overtired, they’re overworked, and they’re over having fun. Read More »