This is a submission from my friend Meaghan about life after college aka - The Real World. She gets bored at work sometimes, too. And of course I put in my two-cents. Why? Because I can.
Life After College
Ah, yes, we have arrived - life after college. We've floated gracefully across that stage, waving at adoring parents and soaking up the adulation of the crowd. We cradle our diploma,hug ging fellow graduates, congratulating each other on our collective accomplishment. We pose for pictures and eat our petit fours on the neatly manicured lawns of the campus. The future is a sparkling guarantee of anticipated success, unfolding before us like the glossy pages of the college brochures.
Hmmm... nice visual, but not particularly accurate.
The reality of graduation is vastly different from those glossy pamphlets that flooded our mailboxes during senior year of high school. You're exhausted, since you probably just finished your last final exam four hours earlier.
( Or partied until dawn - not me of course. I would never do that.)
The robes are itchy from the dozens of unknown and sweaty graduates who wore them before you
(Actually, mine was new. Still itchy but, Megs - used? Ewwwww.)
and atrociously hot; the stage you stumble across is a minefield of loose boards and wiring that forces you to watch each step with cat-like stealth; the ceremony is mind-numbingly dull
(The judge who spoke at our graduation said something about "Yay women!" Which usually I would be all for, being a woman, but I remember thinking - is she just completely ignoring the fact that over half of her audience is male? But it was hot outside and I was bored, so that's pretty much where that thought ended.)
and many people who walk across the stage you'll remember with scorn as those ass-wipe
(Megs' word not mine.)
classmates who made you do all the work during group projects while they recovered from hangovers; the reception is a chaotic jungle of people walking into each other's family pictures.
At this point several older attendees will approach you to make chitchat about the proceedings. Inevitably, with a joking jab in the shoulder, someone will say, "So, are you ready for the real world?" and chuckle, while everyone shakes their head at the naive graduate in for a rude awakening. You will narrowly resist the urge to kick them squarely in the nuts.
(Oh, you mean we weren't actually supposed to kick them? Ooops .)
This, for all intents and purposes, is the most idiotic statement ever.
I won't say that college wasn't fun (at least the parts that I can remember... thank you very much Captain Morgan.) At times, it could be fantastic. But at some point, acute amnesia sets in and people seem to have grandeur hallucinations about what they experienced during those four years (if you're lucky) of college - sleeping in until 1:00pm, drinking themselves stupid on weeknights, dozing during classes and ditching classes.
(Again, not me. Never ever ever. Ever.)
Honestly, if that had been my life during college, I would have never left. Sorry to disappoint, but college was quite different from the director's cut of Animal House. I often remember frantic and exhausted studying for several tests in one week. I went three years without a single break from classes. No summers or J-terms off for me. Evenings or weekends were not sacred, as there was always studying or homework to be done. At one point, I was working 10 hours a week at an unpaid internship and only 8 hours at a work-study job. This brought in a whopping $56 per week, if I fudged a bit with the numbers.
Basically, I lived on free Chipotle
(We should all be so lucky as to have a boyfriend with a never ending supply of free Chipotle.)
and the culinary donations of family and loved ones (bless you Mom and Jan) using my car only when it was completely unavoidable.
Sometimes I look back at the amount of blood, sweat and tears that went into my college education and I'm shocked I made it through. Twice, I contemplated dropping out - early freshman year (due to my grotesque and apelike roommate) and early senior year (due to my grotesque workload.) Eventually, though, even these harrowing experiences will become passive and benign, battle scars that we wear proudly, chuckle and joke about. We forget how difficult it is, and how not sleeping, poor nutrition, frequent illness, mental exhaustion and overwhelming stress produces the best and worst of who we are. Time tends to do that somehow.
Frankly, I'm torn as to whether I want to become one of the amnesic people or not. Part of me wants to always be aware of the truth, what I really went through, both the good and the bad. But the other part of me wants that selective memory to take hold - let its roots burrow deep and settle firm. If I'm ever going to consider pursuing a Masters degree, I can't be remembering that crap. Let it be gone!
(I, myself, am an amnesic. I loved college! I miss it! I work best at 3am the morning before a paper is due!! Really!!!)
Right now, with the battle scars still fresh, I can't even tell you how glad I am to be done. Of course, I miss living with my roommate (not the apelike one - we parted ways freshman year, thank god) in our dumpy, turn-of-the-century apartment on that bustling corner, throwing large objects out the window for fun... think "Jackass" with a lot less nudity. I miss the atmosphere of living on campus (or getting kicked off a neighboring campus - long story) and some of the crazy and semi-illegal crap we pulled.
(Illegal? I have no idea what you are talking about.)
But now, the evenings and weekends are mine. I punch out at 4:30pm every day and do what I please. I can afford to do more and the days of putting $3.00 of gas in my car are over. I get to exercise, take walks, and cook actual dinners that do not feature Easy Mac. Life is slower, more relaxed. I'm more relaxed.
(Whereas I still live with my college roommate, absolutely loved my unpaid internship, long for the days of writing 10 pieces every week for class and the newspaper, and having to work hard to play harder. Of course I am ignoring the times when I felt ready to puke because all of my finals were on the same day and I had three 20-page papers due. Repression is an art.)
I feel as though I've just finished a long, hard race, and now it's time to rest a bit. I'm still panting and tired, and the idea of getting back up and running again is overwhelming. I think we all need a breather.
|
Life After College
Ah, yes, we have arrived - life after college. We've floated gracefully across that stage, waving at adoring parents and soaking up the adulation of the crowd. We cradle our diploma,hug ging fellow graduates, congratulating each other on our collective accomplishment. We pose for pictures and eat our petit fours on the neatly manicured lawns of the campus. The future is a sparkling guarantee of anticipated success, unfolding before us like the glossy pages of the college brochures.
Hmmm... nice visual, but not particularly accurate.
The reality of graduation is vastly different from those glossy pamphlets that flooded our mailboxes during senior year of high school. You're exhausted, since you probably just finished your last final exam four hours earlier.
( Or partied until dawn - not me of course. I would never do that.)
The robes are itchy from the dozens of unknown and sweaty graduates who wore them before you
(Actually, mine was new. Still itchy but, Megs - used? Ewwwww.)
and atrociously hot; the stage you stumble across is a minefield of loose boards and wiring that forces you to watch each step with cat-like stealth; the ceremony is mind-numbingly dull
(The judge who spoke at our graduation said something about "Yay women!" Which usually I would be all for, being a woman, but I remember thinking - is she just completely ignoring the fact that over half of her audience is male? But it was hot outside and I was bored, so that's pretty much where that thought ended.)
and many people who walk across the stage you'll remember with scorn as those ass-wipe
(Megs' word not mine.)
classmates who made you do all the work during group projects while they recovered from hangovers; the reception is a chaotic jungle of people walking into each other's family pictures.
At this point several older attendees will approach you to make chitchat about the proceedings. Inevitably, with a joking jab in the shoulder, someone will say, "So, are you ready for the real world?" and chuckle, while everyone shakes their head at the naive graduate in for a rude awakening. You will narrowly resist the urge to kick them squarely in the nuts.
(Oh, you mean we weren't actually supposed to kick them? Ooops .)
This, for all intents and purposes, is the most idiotic statement ever.
I won't say that college wasn't fun (at least the parts that I can remember... thank you very much Captain Morgan.) At times, it could be fantastic. But at some point, acute amnesia sets in and people seem to have grandeur hallucinations about what they experienced during those four years (if you're lucky) of college - sleeping in until 1:00pm, drinking themselves stupid on weeknights, dozing during classes and ditching classes.
(Again, not me. Never ever ever. Ever.)
Honestly, if that had been my life during college, I would have never left. Sorry to disappoint, but college was quite different from the director's cut of Animal House. I often remember frantic and exhausted studying for several tests in one week. I went three years without a single break from classes. No summers or J-terms off for me. Evenings or weekends were not sacred, as there was always studying or homework to be done. At one point, I was working 10 hours a week at an unpaid internship and only 8 hours at a work-study job. This brought in a whopping $56 per week, if I fudged a bit with the numbers.
Basically, I lived on free Chipotle
(We should all be so lucky as to have a boyfriend with a never ending supply of free Chipotle.)
and the culinary donations of family and loved ones (bless you Mom and Jan) using my car only when it was completely unavoidable.
Sometimes I look back at the amount of blood, sweat and tears that went into my college education and I'm shocked I made it through. Twice, I contemplated dropping out - early freshman year (due to my grotesque and apelike roommate) and early senior year (due to my grotesque workload.) Eventually, though, even these harrowing experiences will become passive and benign, battle scars that we wear proudly, chuckle and joke about. We forget how difficult it is, and how not sleeping, poor nutrition, frequent illness, mental exhaustion and overwhelming stress produces the best and worst of who we are. Time tends to do that somehow.
Frankly, I'm torn as to whether I want to become one of the amnesic people or not. Part of me wants to always be aware of the truth, what I really went through, both the good and the bad. But the other part of me wants that selective memory to take hold - let its roots burrow deep and settle firm. If I'm ever going to consider pursuing a Masters degree, I can't be remembering that crap. Let it be gone!
(I, myself, am an amnesic. I loved college! I miss it! I work best at 3am the morning before a paper is due!! Really!!!)
Right now, with the battle scars still fresh, I can't even tell you how glad I am to be done. Of course, I miss living with my roommate (not the apelike one - we parted ways freshman year, thank god) in our dumpy, turn-of-the-century apartment on that bustling corner, throwing large objects out the window for fun... think "Jackass" with a lot less nudity. I miss the atmosphere of living on campus (or getting kicked off a neighboring campus - long story) and some of the crazy and semi-illegal crap we pulled.
(Illegal? I have no idea what you are talking about.)
But now, the evenings and weekends are mine. I punch out at 4:30pm every day and do what I please. I can afford to do more and the days of putting $3.00 of gas in my car are over. I get to exercise, take walks, and cook actual dinners that do not feature Easy Mac. Life is slower, more relaxed. I'm more relaxed.
(Whereas I still live with my college roommate, absolutely loved my unpaid internship, long for the days of writing 10 pieces every week for class and the newspaper, and having to work hard to play harder. Of course I am ignoring the times when I felt ready to puke because all of my finals were on the same day and I had three 20-page papers due. Repression is an art.)
I feel as though I've just finished a long, hard race, and now it's time to rest a bit. I'm still panting and tired, and the idea of getting back up and running again is overwhelming. I think we all need a breather.
|
posted by Sun at 9:56 AM
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