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?

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.

Which is probably not a term you’ve heard all that often, especially since I’m 90% sure that I just made it up. So let me explain. The symptoms are not all that different from a post-grad crisis, except I’m not actually a post-grad yet. I’m a senior, a few months from graduation and I have absolutely no idea what comes next. And despite my many, many promises that I wasn’t going to worry or care or wonder, I can’t help myself. I’m thinking about it. I’m thinking about it a lot. And I don’t know what to do.

Right about now you’re thinking something like, you and every other 21-year-old out there. And you’d probably be right. No one really knows what they’re doing or where they are going straight out of college. But for the sake of this column I’m going to be the self centered twenty-something the world is always making our generation out to be anyway and I’m going to complain about my problem like I’m the first and only person to ever graduate college.

You’ve been warned.

This idea is something I’ve touched on earlier in this column, but I haven’t really had much time to contemplate it. Last semester was really, really busy. So busy that I almost forgot what college was all about, so much that I forgot how to enjoy myself. But this semester, that hasn’t been the case. Things have calmed down. I’ve calmed down. But all this free time has obviously left me with too much time to think. Because  I. AM. FREAKING. OUT.

I’m a person who likes to be organized. I make lists. I make plans. I write things down on my Google calendar. And here’s the thing, after May 20, there’s nothing written down on my Google calendar. And I keep trying to figure out what should and will be next. Part of me thinks I should try and find an internship for the summer, while another part of me thinks I should head straight into the job hunt and make some money.  And then the part of me that likes spending my summer vacation tanning on the beach and sipping fruity drinks by the pool thinks that I should give myself a break, take the summer off, and worry about it in the fall. I’m applying to a few grad school programs for my masters in publishing, and the thought of starting those in the fall makes me really, really want to take up that third option. But I haven’t made a decision yet, and I’m not sure when I will. Because as much as I love the idea of having a plan, I’m also completely terrified of making the wrong one.

And so that’s my pre-post-grad crisis, which really isn’t all that different from the post-grad crisis I will no doubt be having in a couple of months. I guess I just wanted a head start. But hey, I have always been an overachiever.

You in the same boat? Need to commiserate with a fellow stressed out senior? Follow Jenn’s trials and tribulations of her last year in college right here.

1. Graduation gifts – Luckily when you graduate, people give you gifts and money and things that you need. Even though these gifts are like “Hey, you’re out of college now and you’re kinda on your own so here is some luggage,” they make transitioning very happy.

2. I’m cafeteria free – Albeit eating in a dining hall and having a meal plan is convenient, not having to eat food made for 800 people is a dream. Do you know how amazing it is to eat food that is warm and flavorful? Maybe my alma mater wasn’t too fabulous in the food department (minus the Swedish meatballs … I lived for those), so I’m alone on this one, but I’ll take making myself food any day over dining hall slop.

3. I can wear my underwear whenever I want – Seriously, every time I would just want to veg out in my dorm room and just comfortably enjoy being in my underwear (with a bag of chips), someone would knock. (Editor’s Note: Thank god they didn’t just walk in. Awkward!) And you know, then you have to get up, put on pants, and open the door. Not now. I can wear my underwear all day and no one bothers me. Hooray!

4. No drama – Getting away from college has been a blessing. No gossip. No drama. Just memories and keeping-in-touch with those I want to (and staying far, far away from those I don’t).  I don’t have to deal with classroom politics, and I don’t have to deal with drunken sorority girls elbowing me on dance floors. It’s great being able to step back from the stuff that made me go “Ughh, I’m so over it.”

5. I have a degree– Even though it may not be enough to find the kind of job I want, I’m glad I have my Bachelors and I’m glad I worked my ass off to get it. College went fast, but the knowledge and the subjects that interest me will last a lifetime. No complaints there!

6. A Change of Scenery – Moving to California has taken me completely out of my element. I spent four years in Virginia, surrounded by mountains. Growing up, I lived in the suburbs of Atlanta. And now, I’m three minutes from the beach, 30 minutes to Los Angeles, 90 minutes to San Diego, and the majority of the weather is in the 70s. And it. is. glorious.

7. My own schedule – Nothing is better than sleeping in on a Wednesday just because I felt like it. I didn’t have the pleasure of doing that in college, so even though some people may think this qualifies me as a slacker, I love it. I can stay up late, sleep in late. I can nap when I want. I study for the LSAT and get what I need done, and I do so on my own schedule. Sometimes being jobless is amazing!

8. I do what I want – It’s as simple as that. I don’t have professor meetings to attend. I don’t have extra-curriculars to worry about. I don’t have some set schedule every day of the week. I can wake up when I want. I can go to bed when I want. I can do what I want. I can plan the future that I want. I have one person to really focus on and that’s myself. And it’s great.

What do you love about being a post-grad?

I still haven’t written my personal statement yet.

You know, the one that more or less says “explain yourself in 700 words or less.” The one that asks you to take the last four yours of your life and make them fit in an essay. The one that asks you to be creative, and witty, and unique, while also demonstrating your intelligence and artfully adding in all of your accomplishments. The one required for college admissions, scholarships and awards, and, in my case, the one required for grad school applications.

Yep, that one.
I just can’t seem to write it.

The truth is, I’ve never been a big fan of personal statement essays, or as grad schools like to call them, statements of purpose. (Because changing the name will differentiate them from the nightmare that was applying to college.) They all sound exactly the same, and everyone says what they think the admissions board wants to hear, and everyone talks about family history or motivation or their many deep and meaningful reasons for pursuing the career path they’ve chosen. And basically, what it comes down to is one giant cliché. And I hate clichés. And so do the admissions boards, or at least, that’s what they claim.

The personal statement is important, they tell you. We want to know more about you that what appears on your transcripts, they say. Be creative. Be unique. Be yourself. But also include all of your accomplishments in the past four years, any significant events you may have been a part of you, why you want to go to this school, what you can bring to this school, and why we should even bother to consider your application. Yes, that leaves lots of room for me to be unique, doesn’t  it? The questions are cliché, so the answers are going to be cliché. And as I’ve mentioned, I hate clichés.

But that’s exactly what I end up sounding like every try time I try to tell these people who I am and what I want to do with my life. Because the thing is, I have absolutely no clue who I am or what I want to do. Sure, I’m a college senior. Yes, I have things I’d like to accomplish. But those goals are more along the lines of “make it through 18^th Century Literature,” “improve my beer pong playing abilities,” and “stop watching Private Practice.”  They don’t exactly detail my grand post college plans, and that’s mostly because I don’t have post college plans.

So I should probably focus on the “who am I” part of the essay, right? That would be a great idea, except I just can’t seem to figure out how to go about doing that either. I’ve never been a big fan of labels, because I like to think that people are a bit more complex than that, and I don’t think the admissions board wants my age/height/weight/hair and eye color stats chart. So what are my opinions? Childhood memory that changed my life or distant relatives that have inspired me to become the person I am today?  No on those counts too. I just don’t believe it’s possible for someone to understand who I am based on a 700 word statement, or any statement for that matter. People just don’t work that way.

So what exactly is a girl to do?

Maybe I should just link them to this post instead? I mean, it’s honest and real and so full of such flattering compliments for the entire application process and everyone it involves that I’ll be admitted immediately.

OK, so maybe that’s not my best bet, but what is?

Click here to follow Jenn’s other ups and downs of senior year.

For most normal college grads, the time directly after the cap tossing/couch burning/heavy drinking of graduation weekend comes a period of extreme depression mixed with a tinge of confusion that leads many to make rash decisions.

For some, this means getting a job in Investment Banking or getting (gasp) engaged. For others, this means getting a pet.

Whatever choice they make it is important to remember that college does nothing to prepare us to make such decisions, or for any sort of real life interactions and experiences after we move out of our student housing, clutching our hard earned (ha!) degree.

So, for those of you just entering college or currently enjoying the amazingness that it is, allow me, a recent college finisher, to shed some light and expose the truth.

College is awesome.
College is drunk.
College is staying up all night in the library trying to find someone to hook up with in the stacks.
College is all about making friends and doing stupid things together.

College, however, is not about preparing you for life. Below is a list of things that four (or five/six/seven if you are smart) years in higher education neglect to teach you:

1. Relationships: Late night booty calls? Open relationships? Drunken mistakes? Not only were these accepted in college, they were celebrated: “You hooked up with three guys in one night?! I’ll drink to that!” Not in the real world, people. Apparently staying monogamous is huge out here in the land of taxes and mortgages. Take it from me, going on a date with one guy and going home with another is frowned upon out here.

Not that I stopped…I just get frowned at a lot.

2. Responsibility: “Sorry, I was totally wasted” is not a valid excuse when you forget to file your taxes or pay your electricity bill. News to me, of course, because that was my only excuse in college. “I slept with your boyfriend? Sorry, I was wasted.”

3. A Job: Sleeping through class is totally acceptable, especially if it is an Art History lecture. Sleeping through work is not, especially when you are an Emergency Room doctor.

4. Balancing a Budget: In college “balancing a budget” meant calling my parents and asking for more money. Now that I am in the real world, my parents have started this awful trend of saying “No” and “Get a job that pays instead of spending all your time writing for that dumb site” to my weekly money requests. In the two months since I left college I have grossed $232. On a lighter note, I have been to happy hour 40 times and have a fabulous new pair of jeans!

5. Starting a Family: College life consists of drinking till you pass out, sleeping through class, and cleaning your sheets when you accidentally wet the bed. Family life consists of waking up in the middle of the night to wait on a screaming baby, cleaning, cooking, and hanging a child off your breast for a year. Not only are we not prepared to start a family, but no normal college student would ever want to.

Don’t get me wrong; college teaches us many things. Just be warned that a degree in Art History with a minor in Psychology is going to do nothing in the ways of preparing you for life on the dark side… er… life in the real world.

Likey? There’s more. Check out some of our favorite posts!

Right before I sat down to write this I registered for the GRE. Well, actually, I registered for the GRE, opened a bag of chocolate covered cranberries (Kim Kardashian’s snack of choice), and then sat down to write this. But I digress. This was supposed to be a serious moment. Because registering for the GRE is serious business. At least, it is for me.

You see, the whole “post college plans” thing has always been a bit of a sore subject for me. What I want to do with my life, what I have always wanted to do with my life, is write. I want to write, and read, and edit, and that’s all I’ve ever really been able to come up with. But there’s no set plan for how to make that happen. Pre-Law students take the LSAT and get into law school. Pre-Med students take the MCAT and get into medical school. Business majors have the GMAT. Dentists have the DAT. And the rest of us flounder helplessly trying to either find a job or a rich husband graduate program that works for us.

Currently I’m stuck somewhere between the two. It’s why I’ve held off on registering for the GRE for so long (and why I’ve been contemplating head shots so I can join Patti Stanger’s Millionaire’s Club). I didn’t want to shell out the cash, put in the study time, and commit to the freak out if I wasn’t even going to end up at grad school next year.

But I’ve researched some programs and made some (tentative) plans and decided that even if I don’t end up at grad school next year I still want to take the GRE. I want the option. (I like options.) So I registered.

Which means I actually have to start preparing for it.

Now, since I haven’t done math without the aid of calculator since I took Math 111 during the second semester of my freshman year, I decided to save myself a whole lot of pain and suffering and get myself a tutor for the quantitative section. (Because I have so much free time for tutor sessions….) The tutoring program assigned me a name, I e-mailed her to set up a time, and it was all well and good until she mixed up the date we were supposed to meet. Then, in an e-mail, she wrote the words “I’m not normally this ditzy. I promise.”  That pretty much sealed my opinion of her right there. I was convinced this woman was going to be a complete airhead, and the Facebook recon (I know! I shouldn’t have!) I took part in did nothing to alleviate my concerns.

By the time she showed up (ten minutes late) I was ready to get myself a different tutor. But then she sat down and we started talking, and she started making sense. Not only did she (re)teach me how to factor, and how to add fractions without finding a common denominator, but she gave me some really great tips about how exactly this test works. This is not an exam that is testing general intelligence, skills, or anything else you might have happened to pick up during the last four years. This is a test that is all about the strategy.

Did you know that if you spend less than a certain amount of time on each question, the computer automatically assumes that you guessed, and penalizes you for that? The computer assumes you have poor time management skills.

And did you know you’re not actually supposed to try and solve the problems? It’s all about plugging in numbers and guessing and checking and doing as little work as you possibly can. It’s about training yourself to approach a test in a certain way.

So that’s what I’m doing, slowly but surely. Day by day. As senior year just trickles away.
If only someone could teach me some strategy for how to approach life after college. Do they have tutors for that!?

I mean, sure, part of me revels in the fact that this will be the last year I am forced to deal with pretentious professors and overzealous freshmen. No more writing papers on topics I just don’t care about or being forced to take core courses I have no use for. (I am a currently taking Plagues, Outbreaks and Biological Warfare for my science requirement. I can be bitter.) No more late night cram sessions or midterms. Or finals. No more college.

But no more college doesn’t just mean no more classes, its means no more college. No more college means no more built in, ever expanding social network. No more themed parties or club sponsored events or months off in between semesters. No more college means that I’m going to have to join the real world.

So with that in mind, I’ve decided I’m going to enjoy it while it lasts. I’m a recently 21-year-old, single college girl with way too much to worry about. I have every reason to check out and give in to that oh so tempting state of being known as Senioritis. The only problem? Life won’t let me. You see, it seems that Junior Jenn was much more eager than Senior Jenn. Junior Jenn believed that writing a senior thesis would be fun, that attempting to finish out both of my majors in the fall semester was a great idea, that taking on leadership roles in clubs would be worth it, and that – oh yeah – taking on the roll of tutor in addition to already working 10+ hours a week would be the right thing to do.

Granted, Junior Jenn had good intentions, but Senior Jenn? She’s feeling the pressure.  Those pesky, what are your plans for after college questions have already begun, the GRE is looming closer and closer with each day I avoid my review book, and I just can’t seem to muster up the energy to care about my Senior Seminar the same way I care about the latest episode of Gossip Girl.

I’m about to start my fourth full week of classes now. (I actually had to check the calendar to figure that out) and I see no signs of things calming down, but I’ve put my obsessive compulsive organizing skills to good use and I’ve figured out a way to fit it all in. And keep my sanity. (Hopefully.)

Senior year is only just beginning and the stress is starting to consume me, but my break from reality this past weekend (delayed birthday celebrations, mani/pedi, shopping spree, Starbucks) has made me realize the importance of taking time out, and enjoying those other aspects of college; the ones I’m actually going to miss.  No matter how hard I try I will never be able to know exactly how things are going to turn out, if I’m making the right decision or the wrong decision, if watching the late night showing of Pretty Woman instead of reading for 18^th Century Literature will set my life on a path of complete and total destruction, if dinner and drinks is worth that late night cram session that will surely ensue the next day.

So I’m going to stop worrying. Stop stressing. Start enjoying.  If I focus on the now, instead of on the future, things are looking pretty good. Okay fine, so I have to take the GRE and write a thesis, and I may have finally taken on one too many extracurricular activities. But hey, I’m also of legal drinking age now. And maybe I don’t have any idea what I want to do next year, but at least that means I have options. The possibilities are endless. And that’s a plus. I’m not sure what’s going to happen next year, because I’m not even sure what’s going to happen tomorrow (I’ll have to check my schedule.), but I’m going to make sure I enjoy it.

It might not be easy, but at least it will be interesting.

“I just cooked dinner for myself, and I didn’t even wish it was dining hall food.”
“I’m paying my bills on time this month – like a real adult!”
“I’m turning into my mother now that I’m out of college.”
“How adult of me! I went to a job interview!”

I can’t lie; I’m guilty of putting this idea of being an adult on some kind of pedestal. In fact, if my vocabulary was monitored like songs played on iTunes, it definitely would have the phrase “how adult of me” or just the word “adult” on the top of the charts. Here I am, dabbling with my big toe (not even my whole foot) into whatever adulthood really is, and I’m making a big stink about it.

For example, when I wear heels to my internship (hello – it’s not even a job!), I check myself out in the elevator door reflection and think to myself “How fashionably adult of you.” Funny enough, when I take the heels off after a long red carpet outing, I make fun of my old-college self, “Oh look at you, switching into your trusty Rainbows – the ones that accompanied you to nearly every class senior year.”

And trust me; you don’t even want to hear my adult-o-meter going off when I do household things, especially cooking. Whenever I make dinner for myself, I toot my horn like I just climbed the Mt. Everest of Italian cooking. In fact, I get so worked up over being this LSAT student by day, intern by choice, and wannabe chef by night, I spend hours searching for new recipes and I make out grocery lists ahead of time, so I can continue to evolve into a ‘real’ adult in the kitchen.

The other night though, I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. How silly is all of this “adult” talk. Seriously. So many things that I am now calling “adult” are things that have been the norm for awhile. Like, my boyfriend and I cooked on a nightly basis all throughout college, but here I am, making the same meal that he and I have been making for over two years, acknowledging that I’m an adult simply because I made a meal for myself. Huh? What’s changed? Oh wait – nothing, really.

I have a diploma, and yes, I’m learning the ropes of the real world outside of college, but this doesn’t mean that I haven’t had an adventure or two into adulthood sometime in the last four years, so, why do my post-grad friends and I seem so amused with our new status? I don’t really know, maybe being out of that grungy college house makes it all feel more real. Or maybe society is changing.

Our parents’ generation regarded 18 as being a full-fledged adult. People used to leave the house once they turned 18, whether they were going to college or not, and whether or not their parents were going to support them. It was the way things were. Now, it’s the norm for 20-somethings to move back in with their parents after college, and it’s entirely more commonplace for parents to help financially support their kids – even ones that have jobs and no college debt! When I interned in New York City throughout college, I met so many women in their late 20s and early 30s who had their parents paying their rent, giving them allowances, and helping support their shopping habits. 30 years ago, parents would not be footing the bill for their 32-year-old daughter – no way!

So, does this make adulthood appear later in one’s life? Sometimes it seems like post-grad is the official wake-up call, but it doesn’t mean the idea of being an adult is something that happens overnight. It’s a gradual process, and maybe our generation is taking longer to make their way to adulthood than generations before us. Either way, I still think it’s funny how I can be so scared about “becoming an adult,” but yet so excited to charge into that realm when it feels right.

Maybe post-grad life gives us the best of both worlds – the cushioning of our parents and the exhilaration of kinda-sorta being on our own. Or maybe, because I’m scared/confused/lost/really missing college, I’m just trying to find something to get excited about.

So, I guess I’m coping by doing what any 22-year-old would do: dabbling a little bit in this and a little bit in that. Although the LSAT is top priority (yeah you evil logic games, I’m talking to you), I have been on the prowl for an internship. In fact, since I’ve been out in California, I have applied for about a million (ok – probably about 25) different internships. Nearly every one required me to get college credit…which sucks for me since I’m past that stage. One, which I took, ended up being a major joke. However, finally, something perfect came along. For about two weeks now, I have been interning at a major online celebrity/pop culture gossip magazine. Instead of sitting behind a desk all day, I spent my first day at the red carpet premiere of Pirahna 3D. Since then, there has been no turning back when it comes to working celebrity gifting suites and Emmy weekend red carpet charity events.

Really, it’s one of those perfect internships that any girl who reads the tabloids, keeps up with the Kardashians, and obsesses over things such as Snooki’s tan and Lindsay Lohan’s jail time would die for. Like everyone’s favorite Hollywood intern, Lauren Conrad at Teen Vogue, it’s one of those opportunities where the world kinda opens up and sends you running in a million different directions. It’s perfect for me because it’s the perfect side-kick for studying for the LSAT. A lot of hard work, but a lot of fun too. A perfect mixture of pleasure and pain, which constantly keeps me on my toes and motivated (motivation is key when it comes to the LSAT, at least for me).

But boy, do I wish Hollywood came with a guide beyond Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the USA.” It’s a completely different world than what I’ve ever experienced, even as an intern in New York City. There are stilettos and legs that go on for miles and miles. Plastic surgery is all around me. In fact, a girl at the gifting suite told me if I wanted to fix my thin lips she could recommend a good plastic surgeon that specializes in lip injections (as much as I wanted to cry for the insult, I couldn’t believe people actually say these things). There are actresses, actors, PR people, reporters, photographers, press passes, parties. And since coming from a small school in Virginia, it’s hard not to sing with Miley Cyrus on this one: “This is all so crazy, everybody seems so famous.” While a lot of people get swept up in the limelight of Hollywood, I just want to stay afloat and get the most of the internship that I can.

One thing’s for sure on this post-grad journey, I will take you guys along for the ride. Who knows if Hollywood is going to pick me up and spit me out, or if I will manage to survive and feel at home doing celebrity interviews (to be honest, it’s kinda weird asking questions that seem a little too blunt) and rocking some major pumps. I’m hoping, since L.C. did it – I can too. And even though a guide to surviving as a post-grad intern in Hollywood doesn’t exist, I’m hoping I can learn the ropes of the red carpet just as fast as I was able to learn how to be the best damn college kid around, and as fast as I became used to the constant surprise factor of being a post-grad.