OMG. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?!

Well I passed another major milestone in becoming an adult this week. No I didn’t learn how to file taxes and, hell no, I did not stop leaving candles burning when I left the apartment. Instead I experienced my first authentic stress-induced heart attack. Talk about being a grown-up!

I have a night routine where I check my various blogs, respond to offensive comments, and then snuggle under my covers and watch the TV shows that I’m too embarrassed to watch in front of my roommate, Gena. Let’s just say you can find a lot of classic Grace Under Fire episodes on Youtube if you search long  enough — also helps if you can read Japanese subtitles.

So I was checking my very last blog when I noticed there was a huge.problem. Like the entire blog had crashed problem. I’ve been writing for a start-up company which means they don’t have a lot of money (I’m paid in shiny pennies and expired food stamps). I serve as their blog editor, computer technician, and cleaning lady.

I signed on for the computer technician role because, after living with my grandparents for six months, I got pretty cocky about my computer skills. Then again, their problems were usually of the “how do we turn on the computer and how do we make the font even bigger?” variety. I have no f-ing idea how to fix a crashed blog. Truth be told my web skills pretty much consist of Googling my own name and seeing what life-threatening disease I have on WedMd. Sidenote: who knew the common cold, pregnancy, and brain cancer had so many symptoms in common? Read More »

I’m horrible at transitions and I don’t really do change. But apparently in a few months I won’t have a choice. I’ve completed eight semesters, finished all my required classes, and grown out of my fake ID.

It’s not that I don’t know where time went; it went towards the long class lectures, te bar-hopping, the “Tennis Pros and Golf Hoes” parties, the blizzard sledding (and subsequent frostbite), the jello-shot making, the endless Sex and the City viewings, the random hook-ups, the awkward morning-afters, and the all-day brunch recaps. And while I’ll leave college with amazing memories and textbooks the bookstore refused to take back, I’ll also leave with no idea of what I’m going to do with my life (and how I’m going to afford it.)

So, even though I have an entire semester left, I can’t stop myself from stressing myself into oblivion as I sit in my room with growing anxiety. I WebMD-ed myself to figured out what my problem was and all I came up with was a diagnosis that gave me a month to live. (Sidenote: I have to stop using WebMD.) My mom claims this is normal, my friends are experiencing the same thing, and yet I can’t help asking around for Xanax. Read More »