School’s out 4ever

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Wearing sunglasses non-stop to hide my itchy, sun-sensitive eyes!

 

It’s spring. The birds are singing, the flowers are blooming, and my allergies are back with a vengeance.

I started writing this at my desk on my last day in office for my internship, mostly to prevent me from annoying my office-mate who actually had real work to do. After a solid 19 years of schooling, the idea that I’ve finished a year of school with no further school in the picture is rather shocking. It’s disrupted my whole life sequence. I can’t remember what it was like to not be in school, or at least be in anticipation of it.

For the first time in my life, I’m wrapping up a chapter without a clear projection of what will follow it. I’m basically living out the emotional state sixth-grade student experiences when they realize they actually need to write an ending for their cringe-y short story assignment, and all they can come up with is “and then they woke up and it was all a dream” so they scribble it down as if it’s the most original idea that every crossed their still-developing mind.

I’ve been casually browsing the internet for advice on what to do during this “purpose void” I’ve mentally built up. As far as I can tell, these are my only options:

Get a job

Honestly, this would be ideal, but it is harder said than done. In this economy? In this job market? Sounds fake. Also, having a job just doesn’t hit the same when you have to wait months for your health benefits to kick in (if they’re even offered).

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Cover letter is off to a strong start.

Join a pyramid scheme

This isn’t hard with the sheer number of instagram “Hey girl!” bubbles that land in my DMs. Within moments I could be part of a long train of girls trying to peddle hair and skin products not approved by the FDA, attempting to convince people that all of the bad reviews and customer complaints are circumstantial and blown out of proportion. All I have to do is spend countless hours on Instagram searching for girls I think are even more gullible and desperate than me.

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I already have an in.

Go to Bali and “find myself”

This one seems promising. If I dig deep into my bank account, I can probably find enough funds to book a round trip to Southeast Asia. After partying hard and trashing beaches all night at low-cost raves in Thailand with no reverence for the locals, I’ll zip over to Bali to cleanse my soul with yoga and beautiful spas. I might even think I’ve become more enlightened by sitting in picturesque pools and immersing myself amongst the (gentrified version of) a foreign culture.

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Instagram search: Bali

I’ll definitely take at least 200 instragammable photos to post from now until the end of time, ready to post one when a natural disaster strikes Indonesia as a result of climate change crisis (e.g. the capital might have to be moved from Jakarta, displacing millions and potentially creating climate crisis refugees) with a caption such as “my heart bleeds to see this beautiful place I visited experiencing such pain </3”. In the event that life-ending disaster doesn’t strike, I’ll make sure to post photos about the importance of travel, with other captions such as “The world is a book, and those who do not travel read but a page“, “Take only memories, leave only footprints”, and “I think I was born to live in a hut on a beach <3”.

 

Fake my own death

I’ve read Gone Girl too many times and now kind of just want to try to see if I could get away with it.

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This is the most iconic monologue in modern film and no one can convince me otherwise.

 

Real talk, I kind of feel this sense of emptiness about being done school for the foreseeable future, and I’m genuinely going to miss having access to JSTOR. The change is terrifying, but it’s also incredibly liberating. I have nothing planned and no schedules to meet.

And that’s okay.

Coming up next: I’m going on hiatus for the summer!

Bar life is not the same

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Me with PR classmates this summer

I knew that my bar life was destined to go down the drain when I heard the words “Where are my 2000s babies at?!” jokingly yelled by a DJ one night while I was out. I promptly fled the establishment. To be fair, it was 12:05 a.m., which is normally when I leave to go to bed anyway.

I’ve been actively denying the fact that I’m aging since I turned 18; however, now that I feel inclined to ID people before they even try to talk to me at a bar, I’ve been forced to accept that I’m getting older.

My body has forsaken me and now inflicts me with terrible hangovers that last a full day, even though I was able to wake up the morning after a night out at age 19 feeling refreshed. My skin breaks out the moment a vodka soda touches my lips, even though I used to go on week-long benders with ease.

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This was during final exam season in third year! I probably should have been studying!

There were times in undergrad where I was in bed, and one text from a friend was all it took for me to throw on an outfit and start doing my hair. Now I need about a week’s notice to mentally prepare myself to go out, and even then I’m sometimes too tired to go to the bar.

I have some important questions about my bar future:

  • Can I only go to “old person” bars now?
  • How much time do I have before bouncers no longer ID me because I actually look of age?
  • Can I keep drinking trashy things like vodka redbulls and jägerbombs, or do I have to develop a taste for scotch?
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Charity bar night the summer after first year. I was not 19 yet 🙂

Even though I physically can’t party the way I did in undergrad–and I don’t really want to anymore–I feel sad about that phase being over. I’m packing away my collection of black bodysuits, mourning the death of the bar life I once had.

And that’s okay.

Comment your best bar experience! One time the bar manager gave me a full plate of fries at 12:30 a.m. and I don’t think I will ever be that happy again in my life.

Coming up next: Five Quick Meals for the Grad on the Go

Existing in Limbo: The Place Between Student Life and Adulthood

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“Homie, I’m graduated.” – Kanye West

There’s a 10th circle in hell, and it’s called post-graduate life.

Not for everyone. Some of my peers seamlessly slipped into their master’s programs, full-time contracts and actual-real-adult existences. Congratulations if that’s you; I just can’t relate.

I’m in this weird place between student life and adulthood. I don’t consider Mio drops mixed with water and vodka to be a cocktail anymore, but I’m still not ~sophisticated~ enough to own wine that costs more than nine dollars and has a better name than “Blueberry Blue”. Assorted ramen noodles aren’t a steady meal plan, but I’m not ready to start grocery shopping dominantly for whole foods.

Worst of all, I can see people close to me on both sides of the spectrum, and I crave to have that kind of definition, that concreteness, that certainty in my life.

Essentially, I’m having an identity crisis.

Instead of handling it rationally, I let my Jekyll-and-Hyde-style dual identities hijack my body and act out in ridiculous ways. For example, these are behaviours I exhibited within 24 hours last week (in no particular order):

  • Bought a blazer for 50 per cent off during an end-of-season sale
  • Drank a whole bottle of wine at a pre-drink
  • Scheduled a coffee chat
  • Wore my reading glasses all day for *aesthetic*
  • Used a stress ball to healthily handle my issues
  • Bootycalled a guy who I said I would never hook up with again at 1:30 a.m.
  • Woke up with cheeto dust spilled all over my sheets

I live in this space where I still exist as a sloppy undergraduate student who isn’t ready to move on, but I’m also this budding professional who’s primed for the next stage of her life. Maybe you’re there too.

And that’s okay.

This blog is for laughs, advice and the kind of honesty you won’t find on the gram; follow for a hot mess of a ride.

Coming Up Next: Dream Job: The Real Version