This December I had my first column published in the 1851 Chronicle. Of course I am all smiles about this accomplishment and wanted to share it with readers via blog! Enjoy!
Until the first semester of my senior year, I was under the blissful impression that once you grow up you will know what you’re going to “be.” Now it’s November and I know better. Age has not defined me or pointed me in the right direction; neither have my grades or classes. Here I am, 11:30 p.m. on a Wednesday, in the middle of what I am so endearingly referring to as my quarter-life crisis.
I recently turned twenty-one and it was almost like a switch had been flipped. I was an adult. Suddenly my 2am courtesy curfew at home had been lifted, I got my horizontal license (I guess it’s only a big deal in New Hampshire), and I was able to go to all the same establishments my friends had frequented for the past few months without me. Along with the few, but fantastic up-sides, a fire was lit under me as the race to graduation began.
I am a Communications major with a focus in Journalism. My next goal is finding an internship. This subject has not failed to keep me up at night. To most I may seem reasonably put together, but inside I’m sure I more resemble a desperate, caged animal than a student.
I am clinging to the hope that I didn’t make a mistake declaring my focus in such a competitive field. To all the skeptics that may scoff at my last statement, yes, writing is competitive. There is always a colleague who grasps the English language better, or creates more interesting angles. All I can do is let what I’ve learned flow from my mind and pray something original, not to mention correctly punctuated, comes out.
There should be no reason to worry; I’ve done everything I was “supposed” to. To put it the way my father explained to me, “I have kept all of my doors open.” I have a solid 3.5 GPA and am involved in the Lasell community. I’ve done almost everything right, yet I still worry. I worry I won’t be successful, or at least not successful enough. I worry all of my hard work the past four years will somehow be wasted. I just plain worry. Hence the “crisis.”
My first internship attempt fell through, much thanks to inner company issues and the disbanding of their internship program. So as Jay-Z says, “on to the next one.” I’ve sent more cover letters and writing samples, edited and re-edited my resume, the last thing to do is the part I’m worst at: wait.
It would be most dramatic to make it seem like I was in this fight alone, but I’m not. I am supported by various professors, friends, and of course, my mom. Even in such good company, I wait for the light at the end of the Graduation Tunnel to grow from a seemingly hopeless pinhole to a Jordan-shaped opening where I will shine.
Crisis averted for one more night.
I recently turned twenty-one and it was almost like a switch had been flipped. I was an adult. Suddenly my 2am courtesy curfew at home had been lifted, I got my horizontal license (I guess it’s only a big deal in New Hampshire), and I was able to go to all the same establishments my friends had frequented for the past few months without me. Along with the few, but fantastic up-sides, a fire was lit under me as the race to graduation began.
I am a Communications major with a focus in Journalism. My next goal is finding an internship. This subject has not failed to keep me up at night. To most I may seem reasonably put together, but inside I’m sure I more resemble a desperate, caged animal than a student.
I am clinging to the hope that I didn’t make a mistake declaring my focus in such a competitive field. To all the skeptics that may scoff at my last statement, yes, writing is competitive. There is always a colleague who grasps the English language better, or creates more interesting angles. All I can do is let what I’ve learned flow from my mind and pray something original, not to mention correctly punctuated, comes out.
There should be no reason to worry; I’ve done everything I was “supposed” to. To put it the way my father explained to me, “I have kept all of my doors open.” I have a solid 3.5 GPA and am involved in the Lasell community. I’ve done almost everything right, yet I still worry. I worry I won’t be successful, or at least not successful enough. I worry all of my hard work the past four years will somehow be wasted. I just plain worry. Hence the “crisis.”
My first internship attempt fell through, much thanks to inner company issues and the disbanding of their internship program. So as Jay-Z says, “on to the next one.” I’ve sent more cover letters and writing samples, edited and re-edited my resume, the last thing to do is the part I’m worst at: wait.
It would be most dramatic to make it seem like I was in this fight alone, but I’m not. I am supported by various professors, friends, and of course, my mom. Even in such good company, I wait for the light at the end of the Graduation Tunnel to grow from a seemingly hopeless pinhole to a Jordan-shaped opening where I will shine.
Crisis averted for one more night.
