I had gone for almost a solid month without having any massive breakdowns about my future so it was only natural that I spent last Thursday sitting over my computer hysterically (and unattractively) crying about the fact that I had no idea what I was going to do with my life.
I know exactly what I want to do with my life, but after a few months in the real world I’m starting to realize all these “bad economy” rumors are not just urban legend. No one is hiring. I keep expanding my job horizons further and further out to the point where I’m filling out Starbucks applications and assuring myself that writing down orders is the same thing as writing a script.
My summer plan of living with my grandparents and moving out in the fall has turned into my life plan of living with my grandparents and learning how to play bridge with them. All I kept saying as I cried to my mom on the phone was that no one told me it was going to be this hard. I knew it wasn’t going to be college, I knew finding a job would take a while, and I even knew living with my grandparents would give me a natural mothball scent that didn’t come off in the shower.
But I didn’t know that not having college to look forward to in the fall and not having a job and not having alternatives to prune juice in the fridge was going to be so depressing. I met a college sophomore this weekend and before I could stop myself I yelled out, “don’t graduate!” I used to hate when people said that to me – as if you had the option to just not graduate (with the exemption of being a 5th year senior).
I think I’m steps away from telling incoming freshman to cherish their four years because life is all downhill after there. And then I’ll know that I’ve truly entered old age.