My last final exam is today in about an hour and a half.
My last final paper is due before I leave on Thursday morning.
My last PPECS dealing was last week.
My last Journalism class was last Thursday, and my last undergraduate class was last Friday.
My last time walking this campus as a student; last time being in Ithaca as a student.
Other than this paper, I am no longer an undergraduate college student. How did that even happen? Everything is currently so finite and final, it's mildly upsetting.
I'm tired of having these lasts. I want to start having my firsts again.
My first post-college internship.
My first real job.
My first real apartment.
My first real paycheck.
My first realistic relationship.
My first real emergency on my own.
My first everything.
My first...life.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
Time flies
In less than a month, I will have finished my studies as an undergraduate Journalism major // Sociology and Marketing double minor at Ithaca College in Ithaca, New York.
...
...
Wtf.
All of my aunts and uncles apparently bewildered that I am not only graduating, but that I am graduating a semester early. With having studied abroad in London for a semester. With one major and two minors. And by having done all this by myself for the past three years; taking care of myself, not going home unless for major breaks, cooking and cleaning by myself, choosing my own classes, working part-time while being a full-time student, etc. No big deal really.
To me, that's just normal - that's what is supposed to happen.
We're supposed to go away to school to grow up and become independent, aren't we? Or is that just me? In the age of prolonged adolescence, I feel estranged from my age group. I don't want to be a daddy's girl or whatever when I go home. I don't want to rely on my parents' money, or live in their metaphorical basement until I'm 28 (my parents' house does not have a basement). I want to be successful and able to take care of myself - and in turn, make my parents proud of me for that.
I mildly freaked out about this a few days ago. The thoughts that ran through my head?
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."
"I'm not done with school - how can I be done with school? I haven't learned anything!"
"How am I going to get a job? I don't have enough skills or cover letters or whatever! I don't want to work at Aeropostale forever..."
"WEST COAST OR EAST COAST?!...Maybe I'll just move to China or London and be done with it."
"Damnit, I still have this paper to write before Thanksgiving...I hate being a student!"
...
...
Wtf.
All of my aunts and uncles apparently bewildered that I am not only graduating, but that I am graduating a semester early. With having studied abroad in London for a semester. With one major and two minors. And by having done all this by myself for the past three years; taking care of myself, not going home unless for major breaks, cooking and cleaning by myself, choosing my own classes, working part-time while being a full-time student, etc. No big deal really.
To me, that's just normal - that's what is supposed to happen.
We're supposed to go away to school to grow up and become independent, aren't we? Or is that just me? In the age of prolonged adolescence, I feel estranged from my age group. I don't want to be a daddy's girl or whatever when I go home. I don't want to rely on my parents' money, or live in their metaphorical basement until I'm 28 (my parents' house does not have a basement). I want to be successful and able to take care of myself - and in turn, make my parents proud of me for that.
I mildly freaked out about this a few days ago. The thoughts that ran through my head?
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit."
"I'm not done with school - how can I be done with school? I haven't learned anything!"
"How am I going to get a job? I don't have enough skills or cover letters or whatever! I don't want to work at Aeropostale forever..."
"WEST COAST OR EAST COAST?!...Maybe I'll just move to China or London and be done with it."
"Damnit, I still have this paper to write before Thanksgiving...I hate being a student!"
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Wrong major?
 |
| Original photo credit - Graham Hebel |
This is what I spent my evening doing. I am seriously in the wrong major! If you open the photo in a new window/tab, you can see it larger. Not to gloat, but it looks nicer.
I really do love everything that has to do with photography! And I seriously regret not majoring/minoring in it. But at least I still have opportunities to do what I love with it. =]
More to come~
Sunday, October 16, 2011
A Girl's First Rejection
Written: October 11, 2011
I've probably exaggerated things but hey, hindsight colors the recollections For all intents and purposes, we're excluding the time a guy broke up with me (twice) in ninth grade.
And really, 14-year-olds don't count in the long run. Haha.
It took me a long time to decide whether I wanted to actually post this. I'm a fairly closed person, and don't enjoy sharing very personal things. But as a writer, I need to let it out. And as a person, I need the written form to look back on. I wish I had written more during my high school years so I can remember more! I have an awful memory center.
I promise the next post will be more uplifting? Not really sure what to end this with!
-----------------------------------------------
"Well, thanks for walking me home."
"No problem...there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about."
Boy and Girl had walked around the sunny afternoon in a light-hearted way, winding their path to a majestic wooden palace of a playground. The leaves were slowly bursting with violent yellow, oranges and reds.
I've probably exaggerated things but hey, hindsight colors the recollections For all intents and purposes, we're excluding the time a guy broke up with me (twice) in ninth grade.
And really, 14-year-olds don't count in the long run. Haha.
It took me a long time to decide whether I wanted to actually post this. I'm a fairly closed person, and don't enjoy sharing very personal things. But as a writer, I need to let it out. And as a person, I need the written form to look back on. I wish I had written more during my high school years so I can remember more! I have an awful memory center.
I promise the next post will be more uplifting? Not really sure what to end this with!
-----------------------------------------------
"Well, thanks for walking me home."
"No problem...there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about."
Boy and Girl had walked around the sunny afternoon in a light-hearted way, winding their path to a majestic wooden palace of a playground. The leaves were slowly bursting with violent yellow, oranges and reds.
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