They say it’s supposed to be one of the happiest days of your life, and no, I’m not talking about your wedding day.
In fact, I’m referring to the furthest thing from a wedding: college graduation.
Frankly, I’m terrified. And by terrified, I mean: want to crawl under rock and hide until it’s over because I literally have no idea what I’m doing with my life, terrified.
I’m going to cry too– definitely going to cry. Happy, happy tears of unrivaled joy. Why? I’ve had one of the worst undergraduate experiences of anyone I’ve met, with the exception of a few other people I graduated high school with. I have yet to determine what the root of the problem has been for each of us, but with my last year and a half of undergrad in sight (I’m behind by a semester), I’m hoping I can figure it out soon– before it’s time to decide what to do after I graduate.
What’s my issue? It started my senior year of high school when they tossed out my amazing guidance counselor that I’d had for two years and replaced her with some b-i-t-c-h who knew nothing about me or any of the goals I had. When I chose not to attend art school January of my senior year (after spending most of my 4 years there in an art studio of some sort and applying to the best ones in the country, all of which I was accepted to, minus RISD [impossible] and Parsons [they never received my transcript…good job LHS!]) she wrote me off, telling me, “you won’t get in anywhere but art schools.” She was wrong in the end, but even then she didn’t help me make an appropriate choice.
And so I’ve bounced around.
After a 1 year stint at a satellite campus of Penn State in Nowheresville, USA (by the time I was accepted there was no housing at main campus and I got referred elsewhere), 1 1/2 years at community college and 1 semester at a CUNY school in NYC, I’m still unhappy with my school experience, but I’ve decided to settle. At this point, I can’t afford to be any further behind because my credits won’t transfer, and it’s not worth the hassle to try to look for another school again. I just want my piece of paper.
The other problem is not knowing wtf I’m doing with my life when I get that coveted piece of paper. I’ve studied for forensic science, forensic psychology, writing, and anthropology. I used to work in a lab. I’m interning in a marketing position. I can psychologically profile half the people I know, and even without my masters or doctorate, I’m fairly accurate. I write about fashion and beauty, and it’s one of the most fun things I do.
Worst part? I love all of it.
It’s a ridiculous question for me to answer when I get asked, “what are you studying?” or “what do you want to do when you graduate?” You want to know the answer I give? I have no freaking clue.
I literally have no freaking clue. I’m more confused than someone with dissociative identity disorder (better know as multiple personality disorder…at least I’m learning something in my forensic psych program). I don’t know who I am, where I’m going or what I’m doing, 99.9% of the time. A bit bold and adventurous, but not really how I planned my life would be.
So what’s my goal for graduation? To have an idea. By that time I want to have an idea of what I’m going to do with my life. At least at that time, what I’m going to do. Because it’ll probably change again. Grad school? Sure. Med school? If I get in..but I have to take physics…ick! Workforce? Maybe!
One thing I’m definitely planning to do: write a book about how NOT to choose a college. So maybe that’s my post-college graduation goal.
Right now I want to be Carrie Bradshaw, tomorrow, an FBI Agent, next week, a neurosurgeon, next month….who the hell knows? Maybe, I should get back into acting…then I can pretend to be all these different people. That’s gotta be a weird job…pretending to be somebody else all the time. I mostly enjoy being me.
You see my dilemma?
So while my college graduation will probably be the happiest moment of my life so far, it’s also going to be the scariest.
Keep your fingers crossed, wish on a shooting star, pray to the Buddha (or whoever you pray to, I just hear that he’s kinda lucky), and hope that I “break a leg” before my graduation day comes.