You Are What You Do

Scary picture, but scarily appropriate
http://collegemedia.files.wordpress.com/2012/05/screen-shot-2012-05-14-at-2-56-48-am.png?w=500&h=366

Throughout the first twenty-something-or-so years of our lives, we recent post-grads have identified as a "student," or, at best, a "student of (insert focus of study here)." It was easy. From kindergarten until the end of our years in higher education, our identity was inextricably linked to our education and what it was we wanted to do with that education. We were never plagued with the ominous question of "so, what do you do?" because it was self-explanatory: we went to class, we learned, we were working towards a degree. The majority of our life was consumed by academics to that point. No pressure, no worry about what it is we were going to do with that accumulation of knowledge, simply that we were immersed in it, and far too inundated with schoolwork to really broach any silly questions of the practical implications of our degrees and what that meant about us.

But when the tassel inevitably moves to the other side of your mortarboard and your degree is hanging up on your wall in the same room you grew up in (and will now, again be living in), people are no longer satisfied with an answer filled with potentially lofty-goals or innocent dreams. The first thing they ask is: "what do you do" and, by golly, you better have a good answer.

We have abandoned the security blanket of answering with "I'm a student," and forced to identify ourselves in terms of our current job. While answering as a student may have allowed you to be associated with all sorts of grand aspirations, answering "what do you do" with your current entry-level job leaves much to be desired. Instead of being able to cling to the things I love to do and want to do when coupled with my academic path, I have to identify with the ugly reality that is: I work at an entry-level job, I don't get to do all of the things I love to do (nor pursue any of my interests) and I am more interesting than my job lets on. (I swear!) 

And yet, when someone asks me what I do, that's the starting point. The conversation builds upon what it is that I do and if first impressions are important, then what sort of impression am I making in the first five minutes of conversation by having to identify with a job I really can't identify with?

Such a simple question, and yet, I can never answer the same way twice. I immediately find myself trying to explain it in the simplest terms and then adding a precusory, "Oh, I know, it's boring" in an attempt to separate who I am from my job. I don't want my answer, or more specifically, my job (at this early point in my career), to equate to who I am, what I care about, and what I want to do with my life. For those who know me, it's obvious that there is far more to me than the office job and cubicle I frequent 40-hours a week. But I just cannot escape the question and the inevitable bridge it forms to who I am. I may spend five days a week in my cubicle, but who I am is not what I do, certainly not in my current position. I might be working towards a better job or career path that would be more cohesive with my personality and my values, but I'm just not there yet and it's sometimes defeating when that is one of the first questions that I'm asked in order to help a new acquaintance assemble my identity.

I recognize this is something that is going to happen regardless of whether or not I cause a fuss about the question, ignore it, or create some public service announcement about the emotionally damaging side effects of being asked this question a few years post-grad. What can I do about it? Not much. But in the mean time, I'm trying to make it a point to steer conversations more towards those aspirations and goals I have. I still got 'em, folks, despite being the jaded working girl that I am these days, and I am going to make them happen.

I Was an English Major

Ted, you kill me.

from youtube

A funny thing happened last week: someone engaged me in a conversation about my English degree and literature. Yeah, you heard me. I talked about literature outside of my undergrad years and yes, I have my degree in English. I am not ashamed, despite however much society may try to ostracize those who choose to pursue a degree in the liberal arts as opposed to one with a natural progression towards specific career choices. I understand where the disapproval and exclusion stems from -- most people just don't get it. My choice in major was almost always met with a look of concern and then the subsequent reaction: "So you want to be a teacher then?" No. I do not want to be a teacher. I have the utmost respect for all of my teachers (especially my English teachers), but actually, choosing to pursue my undergraduate degree in English does not mean that my only option upon graduation is to teach. Just because you have an English degree and then become a teacher does not mean that this progression of events necessarily implies causality.

Since graduating, I have obviously chosen not to pursue the path that so many think is oft taken by others with my degree. And while I haven't doubted my decision not to pursue a teaching career, I cannot say that I haven't doubted my decision to pursue my undergraduate degree in English. *GASP* I know, I know, I really am not supposed to admit that on behalf of my fellow literature-lovers and bibliophiles -- after all, we already have to defend our chosen path tooth-and-nail in order to prove its legitimacy as a field of study (and we certainly have been for years and still are.) The last thing the English degree needs is another adversary, especially one with insider knowledge. But I know I'm not alone in my doubt. However, when I say I'm not alone, I mean that I know other students of all types of degrees have second-guessed the academic route they travelled in those fun, albeit confusing, four years.

I obviously don't use my skills of literary analysis and comprehension on a regular basis (and certainly not in my current job), so from time to time, I wonder if I would have benefitted from a different degree. Should I have chosen a field of study catered to a specific profession? One that would most certainly guarantee a life of the big bucks (hello, engineering!)? Did I have it all wrong in choosing something that I most definitely love to learn about and even more so, am passionate about? Who is the fool here? Please don't say it's me!

But when I found myself enveloped in a conversation regarding my studies as an English major and then my thoughts on literature (works of literature, how to define literature, what should be considered canonical, different ways to analyze texts, literature as a field of study, etc), I realized that, even over a year out of the classroom, my love for my English degree remained steady and true. I was revitalized! I was impassioned! I was talking about literature!

I realized that even though I haven't been able to utilize and optimize the skills I developed and strengthened over the years as an English major, they are still tucked away in the file-cabinets of my mind, anxiously anticipating and waiting for the moment they are able to be brushed off and opened up again. This doesn't mean that my skills are never put to use. My studies in English literature have given me a communicative edge: I efficiently, clearly and effectively can communicate a message, something that is important in all facets of business and life. I understand the power of word choice and how to manipulate language in a way that can get you what you want and say what you want. I find that the ability to speak well and write well are too often undervalued, and yet, I was able to learn those skills as an English major. I still love to discuss literature -- dissecting text, analyzing potential meaning, carefully looking at diction, metaphors, and any other literary device you want to throw in there. I wish I was able to incorporate this love into my everyday life more often, aside from the occasional discussion of a book I happen to be reading or on the off-chance I am able to convince someone to get down and dirty with some literary analysis.

When choosing my major, I went with my gut and what inspired me to my core. I fully realize, especially now that I am in the workforce, that my passion may not necessarily guarantee a life of financial prosperity, but I think I am okay with that.If happiness is the goal, then I don't know if pursuing a degree in something that I didn't truly love for the sake of a big paycheck would be able to help me achieve that goal. It is a small sacrifice in the name of preserving my soul.

Shout-out to my allies in literary pride!

If You're Lucky Enough to Get a Date While Living at Home...

I don't like looking at this picture very much...
but it seemed relevant... sadly.

By now, you should know that I live with my parents – if not from the fact that you have read multiple blog posts, then from the tone of self-pity and shame that haunts each of my posts. And while this actually doesn’t pose many problems, it does become a bit of an issue with one certain aspect of my life: dating.

Now, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I am not a female lothario. I could hardly be classified as a man-eater unless you want to get into the consumption and gender of my breakfast, lunch and dinner.  However, if you have even semi-interested and involved parents, then you might see how living at home can be the cause of chronic “awkward turtle” moments at the beginning of whatever budding relationship makes its way to my front door.

Any time I have gone on a first date that involves a suitor picking me up, my polite date has (usually) had the common decency to come to my door. If I lived alone or with other 20-somethings, this would not be any sort of production. In fact, it would probably be standard practice. But with my parents? This seemingly innocent moment in my fledgling of a relationship becomes fair game for them. What should be the moment my date and I lock eyes and ignite some sort of romantic fire instead becomes a verbal assault and battery as this male suitor faces my inquisitive “roommates.”

Once I can finally maneuver past my parents, shuffling my date past their barrage of questions and threats, I can breathe. Sort of. At least now, if anything embarrassing happens, it’s my fault. The date is back within my control (for the most part) and the only person I have to blame for its subsequent failure is myself. If he managed to look past my sort-of innocently-curious parents and then later seems to be exiting out of the restaurant bathroom window after I talk to him? Well, we all know the cause of that.

For the most part, he and I can laugh it off and attribute it to my parents’ always-endearing love for me, and then move on to our inevitable awkward chit-chat and sizing-up of each other… Until my date brings me home.

As he will pull up in front of my house, I make sure to check for any possible beady eyes peering out of windows. My second-check is for my dog, whose first reaction to anything within his line of vision from the window (or front yard) is to bark – loudly. When he does this, I know that whoever is within even a mile’s earshot will be notified that I have probably returned home and am experiencing that awkward moment at the end of a date where we need to decide if we’re going to shake hands, hug, kiss or just run as fast as possible away from each other. If this last parting moment between me and my date happens in the car, then at least I have a steel casing protecting me from the vision of my parents, dog and hopefully neighbors. However, if my date is really trying to step up his chivalry game and takes me to the door? I cross my fingers  and hope that my brother isn't positioned just so on the couch that he can see out the window and onto our front doorstep – a front row audience member to some guy’s attempt to end the date with something more than a nice pat on the back and “call you never.”

If I manage to make it through those final parting moments without any witnesses, I still am not yet in the clear. Believe me, I have tried to dodge past my family’s almost-meddling interest while en route to my room – but it somehow seems that I can never make it into my room before being met with a “so how was it?” And I’ll be honest, I usually don’t mind this. In fact, I do enjoy a little recap of the day/night’s events – if not just because I probably like to hear myself speak, then because I need someone to know all of the events to later help me overanalyze everything. But in those rare moments when I want to savor my experience all by myself? I will inevitably have to share something to appease the curiosity of my parents. I can’t spend a few hours with some person they have never met and then NOT tell them even a smidgeon of information– is that even possible? Any silence on my part may lead them to believe that I have just spent an hour playing mini-golf and getting ice cream with a sociopath.

Trying to keep things from my parents in general is nearly impossible for me. Not only am I a terrible liar, but I respect and love my parents and want them to know what is going on with me. I will admit, though, that there are times that this can be difficult. After all, I cannot separate what I want to share with what I don’t want to share because I live with them. They see the events of my life unfolding simply because they’re around and they can see who picks me up, who’s calling me on the phone and even who sends me flowers (even though that rarely happens -- they can still see it!).

Let's be real here. When I order something online (usually shoes... always shoes), my parents are usually the ones who retrieve it from the front doorstep and know about its arrival before I do. I can't even keep the new purchases in my life a secret from them -- how am I supposed to keep a budding relationship, something that is decidedly more important than shoes (barely), from them?

It is one of the trade-offs of living at home. Although I have been living back at home for over a year now, I am still trying to find a way to balance my new adult (sort-of) life with the comforts that come from moving back in with your parents. I am not the same person I was when I lived there back in high school and my dating patterns are certainly more different. No -- I definitely do NOT bring anyone back to my house after a successful date -- but still, even if I felt the need to extend my date to an evening romp, do I really even have a choice? (And, parents, I know you are reading this, I am not trying to offend you! -- side note: they are probably the majority of my readers) I guess the issue here is that I do not have the choice to choose the information and potentially filter it or share it the way (and on the timeline) that I want to because they see everything happening in real time.When I am hurt by a guy or when I go through a breakup, they see the tears and the pain -- so even if I want to keep it to myself, I really can't. Of course, I always eventually tell them what's going on, but I never have a moment where something can be just mine when I'm located just down the hall from them. I do not have the luxury of having a first date, processing it and then calling up my mom to tell her the highlights because there is no time to process.

I am forever grateful to my awesome "roomies" for letting me stay at home and save a few bucks, so I don't mean to sound unappreciative -- because I am! But I do think that part of growing up and becoming more independent means having to work through situations and sift through information on your own. You will be able to formulate your own resolutions to problems and your own opinions about people and information before it becomes offered up for dinner table conversation. However, it is part of the experience of living at home and learning to manage with current circumstances.

I'd also like to point out I realize that I also am cramping my parents' "dating" habits. My mom said to me, "Did you ever think that maybe you get in the way of us wanting to...[be romantic]" (I'm editing her sentence, but you can interpret that as you wish) to which I could only reply TOUCHÉ!

Thoughts? Comments? Smacking your forehead with your hand? Doh?

SNOW DAY?!

Unfortunately, this post is less about the movie and more about the actual  day itself.
from movies.tvguide.com

Let me first start off by saying: I am not a cold-weather-loving gal. I am cold for about eight months out of the year, hate piling on layers of clothing and can barely navigate through snowy weather – regardless of whether it’s on foot or by car. However, as a kid, bound to the seemingly intolerable structure that my school schedule demanded of me, I would eagerly anticipate the snow fall and its implications of potential freedom from what I then considered the “daily grind.” Never one to tempt fate, I would do all of my homework the night before while keeping my eyes glued to the scrolling queue at the bottom of the TV, which seemed to grant every other young student their wish for a day filled with sleeping in, sledding, hot chocolate and movie marathons. Every time the list would get closer to the Bs (the first letter of the town I lived in), my heart would race, palms would sweat and I’d offer up a plethora of sacrifices to the Snow Gods in exchange for the beloved “snow day.”  Once I saw my school’s name stretch across the screen, I was immersed in a single moment of pure euphoria.

However many years later, I still experience that same aching anticipation at the prospect of a “snow” day. This time, though, instead of avoiding a six-hour-day filled with geometry, the joys of physical education and twenty-minutes surviving the socially-abhorrent and “click”-ridden cafeteria, I would be avoiding a ten-hour-long-commute and eight-hour slavery to my computer screen. At the first sign of snowfall, my mind races with thoughts of “working from home,” enabling me to cuddle up on my couch and go about my usual work business, all while watching the entire first season of Downton Abbey. Of course, I realize this “snow day” is a bit different from the ones I was used to in those earlier years; however, I still feel a reprieve from a demanding work schedule and find that a little disruption in my routine goes a long way in making me feel refreshed for the next day of work. I know that some people do this every day, but when you’re chained to an excessively long commute and less-than-desirable office position, the opportunity to be uprooted and welcome a bit of “chaos” from the norm is enough to make you jump up and down in your onesie you have probably specifically saved for the cold and snowy occasion.

With the impending blizzard upon New England, I find myself treating Thursday like it’s Friday (just like I used to in the pre-post-grad era!) and looking forward to answering work emails in the company of my dog. Sure, this snow day is pre-empted by my company’s wish to keep its employees safe and out of the potential danger that associates itself with obnoxious amounts of snowfall – but the euphoria is no different from that I felt in yesteryears.

Stay warm peeps.

When "Unfriending" Gets Personal

from everydaypeoplecartoons.com

When things go sour offline, should you make a change online? This is the sort of question I pondered as I realized that some of my Facebook friends were less “friend” and more “frenemy” of sorts. These people, once an integral and involved part of my life, now had drifted towards mere association and, to cue Gotye, perhaps even somebody that I used to know. They had at times been privy to my innermost secrets, thoughts and opinions, were up-to-date on all of the happenings of my life and shared many an inane inside joke with me. But now? The only entity dubbing us “friends” and maintaining that pseudo-connection was Facebook. So do I keep up the illusion of a friendship via internet or sever the Facebook ties?

I’m sure, if you’ve read a few of my posts, you would classify this as “classic Angela – overanalyzing a simple situation,” but in this age of overexposure, where everything in your life seems to be offered up for public consumption, I feel as though this is a legitimate question.

Let’s take Facebook (and other social media platforms in general) out of the equation for a minute. Let’s think back to when “poking” required actual physical contact and, in order to find out what your friends were up to, you actually had to speak to them and ask them what they were up to. If you were to part ways with a friend or eventually fade from each other’s lives, that friend would no longer have access to the details of your life: where you were last weekend, whom you’re dating, what your thoughts are on Kimye’s bun in the oven. With Facebook? You can go your separate ways and still know exactly what the other person is doing all day every day just by glimpsing at your news feed.

But do they deserve to know? When you no longer play a role in that former friend’s life, should they really be allowed to know that you just entered into a relationship with someone new? That you celebrated a new promotion? That your goldfish died and you are in mourning? These are moments and experiences that you tend to want to share with the most important people in your lives – friends, yes; frenemies, no. I find it a little harrowing sometimes that people with whom I’m not very close can know so much about me without even needing to talk to me. Granted, maybe that’s a sign I should change my privacy settings or even whittle down my friend pool. However, I think, in terms of cutting ties with old friends, that it might just be another step to letting go and accepting the end of a friendship.

It is really difficult when you reach the end of a friendship with someone – whether due to mistakes made, transitioning through different parts of life or because you’ve grown apart – and I think it can be just as difficult to sever that tie online. This is the last remaining tie to that person. At the same time, if they (or you) have chosen not to be a part of your (their) life, then maybe that means they should no longer have access to the online equivalent of your life.  After all, if they wouldn’t hear about it from you personally in conversation, then maybe they shouldn’t be able to hear about it from an online source. Sounds a bit like Facebook is a gossip monger, spreading news to people who wouldn’t hear about it otherwise if not for Facebook’s big mouth!

Okay, but I digress. I suppose my only hesitation in “unfriending” is the inevitable implications – that I am being dramatic about the ending of said friendship, that the other person would even notice (or that I even show up on my former friend’s news feed), or maybe that it might even add fuel to the fire (a fire I don't want to re-ignite or make worse - seriously). I am sad enough that I even need to contemplate this with people I once considered best friends, but like I said before, it just might need to be part of accepting and respecting their wishes and moving on. I don’t know.

What I do know is that if friendship is defined as “a friendly relation or intimacy” (thanks dictionary.com), then Facebook friendships are certainly stretching that definition. When your relation with someone is no longer friendly nor intimate, then it might be time to “unfriend,” and prohibit that person’s access to details that they would only get if they still were friendly and intimate.

Ah, yes – if this doesn’t make you long for simpler times, then I don’t know what will. Maybe one day, you and those former friends (and former Facebook friends) will find a way back to each other again and move past things offline and eventually make your friendship Facebook official again as well. But in the mean time, I suppose it’s time to get to re-evaluating what friendship means to you – both online and offline.

New Year's Eve Revelries

someecards - always accurately commenting on my life

When I was younger, New Year's Eve was one of my favorite holidays. After all for most kids, there are few days when you're encouraged to stay up into the wee hours of the morning, eat lots of snacks and be surrounded by lots of intoxicated adults. However, as I became "of age," the sparkle and pizzazz that seemed to associate itself with New Year's Eve dulled, and I was left with a burgeoning sense of dread over paying for sky-rocketing cover charges and partying with my obnoxious peers. Last year, I had ventured into Boston, sequin-clad and naive. I didn't have enough vodka cranberries to render the evening enjoyable and my six-inch platforms prevented me from wearing anything other than my Uggs for the next few days after that night. 

This year, I knew I couldn't do that again. All I wanted to do was curl up on my couch and watch movies, despite the fact that I had already purchased myself a black sequin romper (yes, that's a real thing) for this year's holiday. My brother promptly informed me that I was basically disgracing my age group and that these were my only years for care-free partying and reckless behavior as I indulged in overpriced soirees (maybe not so eloquently...) So I had to decide: go out or stay in?

As much as every inch of me wanted to put on my onesie PJs and cuddle up with my dog, my sequin-romper was already purchased and hanging neatly in my closet, beckoning me to go out and play. Luckily, my closest friend had a suggestion that silenced "lazy me" -- we would go to a local bar that I have frequented on many prior occasions and spend the night at my boyfriend's, dodging the inconvenience and expense of a late night in the city, but still allowing us to get dressed up. We could avoid the $75 cover charge, $20 drinks, $50+ cab ride AND not be squeezed shoulder to shoulder in a bar, making friends with the sweaty bodies we would be forced to rub up against. It was a very good compromise and the old miser in me could agree to it.

These much more casual plans seemed fool-proof: meet up with friends, walk to the bar, have some good, old-fashioned, adult fun, then walk back to the apartment later in the evening -- hopefully, with the promise of laughs and dancing in between. But as with many carefully laid-out plans, something was likely to go awry.  

I suppose I shouldn't let this whole post be too misleading -- 90% of the night was SO much fun. I was surrounded by some great people, getting to know some new friends better while spending time with some old, familiar faces. But, like any night at a bar, the more alcohol consumed, the more likely for people to make some questionable decisions and act a bit more foolishly. I tend to giggle excessively, get really tired and eventually, get over-dramatic when drinking, but I was only at the point where I was giggling and everything was awesome for the majority of the night. However, once we rang in the New Year with hugs and kisses, the night went from carefree to annoying.

It was pretty standard as far as intoxicated girls go, minus the hair-holding. Someone drinks a bit too much and the other, slightly less drunk, is left to tend to her. This becomes borderline babysitting and can really put a damper on whatever buzz you have going on. In this case, I became the babysitter. My friend, who has since apologized (and been forgiven), was one such object of babysitting, as she is teeny-tiny and thus, incapable of having as many drinks as some of us other folk (myself NOT included). Nevertheless, at one point, I found myself outside, coatless, trying to coax my dear friend off of the ground. I clearly was not persuasive, as my friend decided to grab the hand I was offering to her and chomp down on one of my fingers -- think "Charlie Bit Me," except with two overdressed, tipsy girls. My boyfriend had come outside to give me my coat and witnessed this whole debacle, and after we finally ushered my friend off the ground and back into the bar, I then proceeded to cry. Yes, I was that girl, crying outside of a bar on New Year's Eve. The year before may have been a bit anti-climatic and not as fun, but this year, I was crying.

Things just went downhill after that. I was trying to make sure my friend got home safely via cab, after her first attempt at getting into a cab home was unsuccessful, while trying to make sure that my other friends weren't getting annoyed by having to deal with this situation. There was some falling off of stools, and then there was crying from my friend (we can all relate to being lonely and nostalgic for an ex-boyfriend on holidays, am I right? Hence, the tears), and then there was the added complication of trying to get a cab... Just to name a few issues towards the end of the night. Eventually, once I got my friend safely en route back to her apartment, I met up with my boyfriend and other friend, and proceeded to cry all the way back to his apartment. I was tired. I was a bit irritated. And even more so, I felt bad because I just wanted my friend to appreciate my efforts for the night. All the while crying, my finger throbbed and my friend's teeth marks prominently engraved themselves in my skin as a reminder of my ill-fated earlier attempt at drunk-sitting my friend.

I suppose, looking back on all of this, that I made out with considerably less drama than most people encounter during their New Year's Eve. There wasn't any puking (a New Year's miracle) or bar fights. The only evidence I had the following morning of my dramatic end to the evening was a swollen finger and a headache, presumably caused by a hangover and too much crying. At the very least, I rung in 2013 happy and excited, only to be knocked off of that perch a mere hour later after being bitten. It was a good hour though and all has been forgiven since then. After all, I made a few new friends that night (who probably don't remember me now...) AND got myself an amusing story (my friend bit my finger...come on).

What's the plan for December 31, 2013, then? I always condemn myself for waiting until the last minute to make New Year's Eve plans (I made plans the night before this year) so maybe I can use what little foresight I have now to plan something maybe even a few weeks prior to the date. Hopefully, I can avoid being mauled by my friend, and perhaps, even break out the sequin-romper again....

Wishful thinking.

How to Make Friends

Friendships: an important component of our lives from the very first day we meet someone who is neither imaginary (sorry folks) nor our parents. Once we hit school-days, we go on a friend binge -- suddenly, every person you meet has the potential to be your "best friend forever," a phenomenon that happens regardless of whether you're in first grade or a freshman in college. It seems as though every time you enter a new phase in your education, you're faced with the prospect of new friend-making. These people would be your "elementary school friends", your "middle school friends" and then even your "high school friends". Of course, there was overlap if you stayed in one place for your whole life or if many of your friends went on to the same secondary school with you, but each time, you were creating your inner-circle.

 The same thing happened when we went to college. Just think about freshmen orientation, for example: you participate in icebreakers, learn too much about everyone in your group, and then are encouraged to meet as many people as possible in your first few weeks of school with the countless numbers of activities being held for you and your fellow college peons. It is a phase of binge friend-making -- sometimes these friends stick, sometimes they don't, but regardless, within four years, you have now added a group of "college friends" to your relationship repertoire. But outside of these friendship-forging institutions, is there room for new groups of friends?

I constantly think about this as someone who admittedly loves to meet new people, go on first dates and strike up conversations with strangers. How do I integrate these new people into my lives? Is there more room for me in their life that is already divided into "home/high school friends" and "college friends?" Sure, some might say "the more the merrier," but when your loyalties have been to these groups for so long already, is there a way to add your new post-grad friends to the mix? And even more to think about: how do I meet someone and let it be known that I want them to be my new, adult friend?

It may seem silly to think about, but it's not like dating. You meet someone at a bar, it's clear that you two have some sort of attraction, and then you go on a date. Can this happen for making friends? I like the concept of a "friend-date" in theory, but that doesn't mean that the person I want to "friend-date" is going to like it as well -- and more so, they'll probably think I'm a weirdo. But why can't this happen? Essentially, you could meet someone at work, at a bar, in line for coffee, and hit it off. Sure, it isn't romantic chemistry, but it is a sort of friend chemistry, the one where you bond over something and realize that you've developed some sort of rhythm that could translate into a potential friendship. Then what? Can I ask that person to hang out? I feel as though most people would think I am hitting on them -- regardless of gender. 

Don't get me wrong, I have made some friends since graduating, and it did happen organically. Although, I will admit, these were all work-relationships at first. For example, my time spent in retail was made exponentially better by my fellow mall-slaves. We all happened to be the same age, started chatting and took our work-relationship outside of our fish-bowl enclave in the mall and to a restaurant for after dinner drinks. We realized that "hey, this is fun!" so we did it again and eventually we had developed a new friend group -- work friends (despite the fact that few of us actually work there anymore).

But outside of work, how do you do it? I feel like it can be inevitable to befriend someone at your job out of the sheer fact that you spend so much time there and it makes the work experience better. However, friendship can be created outside of the cubicle walls, and how do you take it to the next level -- from well-acquainted stranger to new pals? 

Sometimes I feel like it can be difficult to do this, since people do have many of their friendships in place. Heck, most people already have their best friend set and secured by the time they're ten years old -- how is a new person supposed to weave their way into your life when there is seemingly little to no apparent vacancy? I guess you could counter all of this by saying that if someone wants to be your friend, it will happen and I don't need to go around having this existential friendship crisis, but presumably, people have certain friend roles already filled at a certain point: the best friend role is usually taken early on, as well as all of those other token friend spots (your go-to shopping friend, your go-to partying friend, etc.). Is it even possible for a new friend to have an important role in your life if those roles were given to earlier friends based on longevity? Can someone you just meet have the potential to be a best friend -- even if you don't have years of loyalty (yet)? Similarly, is it possible to become part of an already established friend group, or will you always feel like an outsider?

After all, as post-grads, we're (most likely) in our twenties and that means that we have years and years ahead of us. This also means that we are going to meet many more people in our lifetime and add some more friends to our circle. We are hopefully a bit more wise than we were in years before and are also better equipped to choose our friends and weed out the frenemies. What do you think about making friends as a post-grad? I realize that this post provides more questions and speculation than answers, but I think these questions are all valid. Sure, maybe this all sounds like I'm a whiny loner and am incapable of socializing (this would explain why I have a blog). However, I'm excited about the prospect of adding more friends to my life as I survive the post-grad years. Is it okay for me to apply my skills of "seduction" to the realm of friend-making -- modifying my flirtation to imply a wanted friendship (I know how creepy that sounds)?  Or am I just over-thinking it and need to let things happen organically? I'm assuming I should go with the latter, but given that a friendship is agreed upon, will I ever be able to hold an important role in that person's life as a new friend?

Alright, alright. Enough with my questions, I know. With all of this over-analysis and mumbo-jumbo, I will leave you with this:

All We Need Is Just a Little Patience... Right?

im·pa·tience

  [im-pey-shuh ns]  Show IPA

noun

1.

lack of patience.

2.

eager desire for relief or change; restlessness.

3.

intolerance of anything that thwarts, delays, or hinders.

In today's society, everything is a click/push/(insert onomatopoetic verb here) away. Every song and book you could ever want can be purchased and downloaded within a few seconds. Tired of those pesky kids asking how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop? Google it and instantly be enlightened (although... they only offer a range -- the world may still never know). Information travels faster than the speed of light, so it's only natural that the expectation of instant gratification would trickle down into the psyche of post-graduates. As much as we might be fooled by the false sense of appeasement and comfort that instant gratification offers us in other situations, we most certainly cannot expect for success to follow as "instantly" or immediately upon graduation day. Should we be discouraged by this in the midst of everything else being accessible within minutes and seconds? Or should we settle for a certain degree of complacency that is required to "pay our dues?"

I often find myself wondering if  I should quiet my inner-restlessness in the name of patience. I recognize that as a recent graduate that I am going to have to "pay my dues" so to speak. To me, this means getting an entry-level job that doesn't necessarily satisfy all of requisites for a dream career and job environment. In fact, by this definition, it means that I might (and most likely will) have to take a job that I don't like or isn't "perfect" just to get some experience. While gaining this important work experience, should I be patient, bide my time, give it a year or two, and then get back out there? Or should I continue to let that restlessness grumble until it becomes a full-on roar?

I think what I'm trying to get at is that it's hard to silence the part of you that wants to have the dream career immediately, which can make it difficult to accept that you're going to have to settle at first. However, I think this isn't a bad thing per se -- in fact, it can be motivating. If a part of you is never complacent, then you're actively trying to make good things happen for yourself and if you're always trying, it's gotta happen eventually, right? One would hope.

Despite this impatience for "the dream career," I think it's important to recognize that you do still need to focus on the "right now." You can't always wish your current life away, impatient for what's going to come next and for your life to start. Fact of the matter is, your life is happening right now, and the key is to make the best of it right now. This doesn't mean that you can't prepare for the next chapter, but there are lessons to be learned and mistakes to be made (cliche, yes, I know, wah wah) In truth, this sort of patience is required so that you can gain valuable life experience from doing something that you simply don't want to do or aren't entirely interested in. By "settling" for now, you do learn something about yourself and what you want out of your next job and even out of life in general. Life is full of things that will happen to you that you just don't like or that isn't what you wanted, but you have to learn how to deal with them -- that's what makes you grow as a person. In the mean time, we can use that dissatisfaction and restlessness to motivate us and to focus on how to take the step towards something that will meet more of our credentials.

There needs to be some sort of merging of both extremes and both ends of the spectrum. It's time to find the middle man, use our desire for change and life to get moving to actually get moving and, at the same time, recognize that it is going to take hard work, self-realization and just a bit of patience (and maybe even luck) to make the step towards something great and better.

The Post-Grad Dating Dilemma

After approximately four years of living in a residence hall of some sort (give or take a semester or two), surrounded by a plethora of your peers, living in the happy-go-lucky college bubble, the concept of dating, for recent grads, has been completely distorted. In fact, if you think about it, we haven't even needed to participate in the whole dating ritual. All of our dating options have lived comfortably next door to us, down the hall, or just a hop, skip and a jump away for the last few years, making the dating process null and void, and essentially obsolete...

That is, until we graduated. What happens then? How does one meet a potential boyfriend/girlfriend when they're not served to you on a silver platter: attending a program your RA plans, assigned to work on a group project with you, or roommates with one of your friends? Cue the panic. 

The dilemma that we, as recent grads face, is a very real one. Within two weeks of being a college freshman, I had a boyfriend. I plopped down in my sociology class, was forced to introduce myself to the guy next to me as part of some sort of activity, and then voila! Two weeks later, I had myself a full-fledged relationship with the greatest distance between us being the freshman quad. Does this sort of event happen outside of the college bubble? Eh, perhaps, but those people are generally crazy and shouldn't be trusted (just kidding...sorta). The truth is -- it doesn't -- and it's even worse when recent grads don't know where to begin. We haven't had to participate in the dating dance that post-grad life requires in order to meet a new person. Heck, you don't even really need to put that much effort into meeting someone and getting a phone number when you're in college. Chances are, you're already Facebook friends with that pseudo-hipster who just hit on you at the dining hall.

What's a gal to do when she finds herself with a lack of tricks up her sleeve, ill-equipped to handle the challenges that come with actually needing to engage in awkward small talk and make a move on a guy at a bar/concert/bookstore/anywhere? While I am by no means an expert in dating (although, I have had my fair share of meet cutes -- more on that another time), I suppose I can outline a few tips for the especially hopeless.

• Get used to making small talk with strangers: I get that this can be extremely uncomfortable for self-proclaimed introverts and people who lack social skills. However, if you want to meet people, you're going to have to talk to them. Unfortunately, most people don't possess telepathic powers, and therefore, you are going to have to resort to old-fashioned face-to-face conversation.

• Just start talking about anything... relevant: My general strategy for starting conversations with people is to be opportunistic. I have started many a conversation with someone while standing at a bar -- you're there getting drinks as are they (presumably), and while you're waiting for the bartender to get you that  embarrassing pink drink you just ordered, you might as well chat someone up. Case in point, I was standing at a bar once to order a drink and the guy next to me said that he had been there longer than me. Being the sassy gal that I am, I decided to respond with a simple "I bet you he'll serve me first," which opened the flood gates. Comment on his drink, the fact that he's double-fisting two Cosmos, or even that Psy's "Gangnam Style" is on and some old creepy guy is attempting to dance to it -- anything. If he wishes to engage in this interaction, he will. If he doesn't want to? You're already drinking -- order yourself another one and move on.

• Don't take everything so seriously - this is dating, not a colonoscopy: I've heard the same complaints from my friends: "But dating can be so awkward!" They then proceed to pick out several outfits, over-analyze text messages and revert to 7th grade ways (i.e. "So, I saw this guy I liked. I think he's cute. He smiled at me the other day, but then today he didn't say hi or even look at me. Why didn't he say hi to me today?!" or better yet, "I can't talk to him first. Maybe I should chat with him on Facebook instead?") Let's be real, ladies and gentleman, dating is supposed to be fun. If someone likes you, great! If not, whatever, who's next (new blog title?!). Not everyone is going to like you, but when you find someone that does, don't stress out about it. There's nothing worse than someone who's got sweat stains BEFORE the date even begins.  Relax. Have fun. Remember what a date actually is? Oh, you don't? Well, let me tell you...Prior to a date, both parties have, to a certain extent, expressed romantic interest in the opposing party. When this interest is made clear, a date is planned, and both parties attend the date in order to gain more information to determine whether subsequent dates should follow (as deemed necessary) and also to determine whether this opposing party could be a potential match for a romantic relationship. You go on your first date, and if you both have fun and want to know more about the other person, you go on a second date (novel idea, right?) If the second date isn't as successful, you don't go on a third date. If the second date is successful, you go on a third date. Revolutionary -- lather, rinse, repeat = relationship. It doesn't need to be so gosh darn stressful. I get that feelings can muddy things (damn those emotions), but you need to keep things in perspective. If you adopt a relatively carefree attitude, you won't come off as desperate, needy and flat-out annoying. Would you want to date someone who  exhibited any of those qualities? No. (Sorry, no offense)

• Go on a real date: This is probably most important for people making the dating transition from college to real life (yes -- REAL LIFE). A real date does not include (and is not limited to): group outings, sitting in at someone's parents' house watching TV, Skype, etc. The point of a date is to evaluate this person's compability with you. You need to go out (just you two) somewhere that enables you to learn about the other person. Whether this learning experience happens over dinner and a movie, rock-climbing, attending a concert, going to a museum -- I don't care! There just needs to be the opportunity for good old-fashioned getting to know each other. Yes, a date can happen at a bar, but I would say that it is helpful to be able to hear what the other person is saying. A successful date occurs when you are able to go home later that night, know the person's last name, and know something about the type of person you just spent the last X hours with: what their interests are, what some of their goals are, what they like/dislike, their blood type (just kidding, don't ask them that) -- essentially, what makes them tick. What do you need to know about a person to determine whether you want to spend more time with them or not; whether you like them or not? Figure those things out, and then find it out on your date. It doesn't need to be philosophical, but go somewhere and do something that will reveal more about the person you've decided to go out with.

• You are a pretty cool person, and if someone doesn't want to date you, so be it: Of course, this is far easier said than done, but essentially, why waste your time with someone who doesn't recognize that you're an amazing person just as you are? The world's population is inching closer and closer to seven billion people every day (I just Googled it to double check), and you're hung up on ONE person who "is just not that into you"? You don't have time for that. You're too busy being awesome. Move on and find someone cuter (or maybe just more compatible).

There you have it. Some of the basics for post-grad life according to someone who has been unsuccessful in love thus far (eh, actually, that's debatable -- ask my boyfriend?). Maybe that diminishes all of my credibility -- but does it, really? I've been on countless dates, good and bad, but the fact is, I have dated outside of college. I've done it. It's worked! Eureka! What's even more miraculous about all of this? Despite some of the failed dates, missed connections, breakups and what have you, I still live to tell the tale -- and the thing is, you will too. So even if you have a bad date, keep trucking along. Eventually it will work out.

Eventually.

Life with My "Roomies"

I always find myself telling people stories about my roommates. I have two roommates -- and they're pretty fun, as well as also being helpful, generous and smart. One of my favorite anecdotes I like to share is the one where I found my two roommates spooning in my living room while watching the Kardashians. To most people, this seems odd. Not just because people still actually watch the Kardashians, but because I walked in on my roommates spooning. Frankly, I'm glad that walking in on them spooning is the most intimacy I've had to witness. For those of you who are uninformed of my current living arrangements  I will admit it: I live with my parents.

This living arrangement is one that's met with divided reaction, by the general public and myself alike. Society has ingrained into us that once you're done with school - whether it be high school or higher education - you now must move out and forge an independent life in separate living quarters from your parents or guardians. In doing this, you have made the complete transition into adulthood and can now embark on that adult life free of supervision, curfews and your mom folding your underwear. Unfortunately, with the current economic climate and the overwhelming necessity for student loans, this rite of passage is being delayed by many fellow  post-grad adults. How are we expected to afford to live in an apartment paying hundreds of dollars (assuming you can find roommates) when you've also got hundreds of dollars going towards that education of yours -- you've got the diploma stashed away somewhere under your bed to prove it, I bet?

The fact of the matter is: many of us can't. I know that I certainly can't afford to pay for rent with my entry-level income, let alone furnish that shabby apartment, drive a car and pay off any accumulated debt. What about food, you may ask? Forget that. My private college education fed my soul, so certainly, that should be enough to keep my hunger at bay. What about having a social life -- it does cost to go out, you know? Well, if I can't get free drinks, then I'll just have to be satisfied with a non-existent social life because I can't afford a $10 cover charge and a $10 beer. 

I realize that this may seem overdramatic. And to a certain extent, it is. Plenty of recent grads find a way to make it work and thrive, even with a limited budget. However, I find myself asking the following question (and I know many other people have asked the same thing) as a twenty-something living in her childhood home: does living with our parents stunt our transition into adulthood or can it be seen as a very strategic, adult decision being that it is fiscally responsible?

My life at home is pretty cushy, I will admit. My parents don't charge me rent or ask me to pay for food. My mom still does my laundry and packs me a lunch for work (the shame is overwhelming even as a type this). My dad will bring my car to get gas if I'm feeling too lazy (although, I do give him money to pay for it!) or pick up a prescription for me at CVS. And on top of all of that, they're fun to be around. I go out to dinner with them, we watch TV together, and we share many a laugh over the funny things that my dog does. But in the midst of all of this, I wonder if I am regressing towards my childish ways.

I have a full-time job equipped with benefits and a 401K. I commute into Boston (about 1.5 hours each way). I have to navigate around my own schedule, balancing work, running my errands, seeing friends, etc. But that still doesn't mitigate the reality that I am living with my parents. I am not embarrassed that I live with my parents, though. Since graduating last December, I have saved up a considerable amount of money and have been able to contribute more money towards paying off my car loan. I am trying to set myself up to be successful once I do leave the nest, so that I don't have to come fumbling back, hands outstretched begging for money and for my mom to separate my lights and darks.

I like to think that I am still facing adult problems and have an adult life -- but it is a modified version of the stereotypical post-grad life of ten, even five years ago, when jobs were a guarantee post-college and debt wasn't necessarily so overwhelming. I do want to move out of my house eventually, but I want to do so at a time where I feel as though I am more financially stable. Does that make me childish? Or does that mean I am making an adult and responsible decision?

For now, I'm going to enjoy the perks of living at home and continuing to save my money as I prepare for my next big adult steps. I might as well enjoy it while I can and savor this special "roommate" time. Besides, I'm pretty sure my "roommates" love having me home: who doesn't love to do an extra load of laundry!

Choosing a Path

Today, I had a few brief, but very poignant conversations with two different friends (at two different, unrelated times) about figuring out one’s path in life. I realize this sounds incredibly philosophical, which might deter half of my readers (leaving me with a fraction of a human being), but I assure you, despite however philosophical it might seem, I guarantee it is a subconscious question posed to yourself every day.

With friend one, the question was not even trying to be deep or insightful -- the topic of “figuring out one’s path” blossomed from simple, polite, small talk. You know the kind: “Hi, how are you?” and “How’s your job?” This, inevitably, will be answered either with “The job is great -- I love it!” as a way to placate your partner in conversation and steer them onto a more interesting topic (unless your job is really interesting) OR, if you’re like me, you will be brutally honest and respond with “It’s boring. Hate my commute. I need to find something else.” Of course, therein lies the issue: what is next? Clearly, we all know I have a problem coming up with the answer to that question, since my blog’s premise embodies exactly that question; however, it is something that everyone asks themselves. What sort of job do I want to do next? What will make me happy? Should I go to Dunkin Donuts and get a coffee? What should I do with my life after I get that coffee?

My friend offered some practical advice: talk to people who are in a field/industry that interests you or who have a job that you could potentially want and figure out what you have to do to get there. This isn’t a job interview, by any means -- just a simple conversation with someone who has experience and insider information who can provide you with advice on how to forge a path for yourself and figure out if their path is something you might want to mimic or learn from. When my friend told me this, I responded with a resounding “Hmph.” It’s like that moment when you’re watching an infomercial and you think to yourself: “Well, gosh, I could have come up with that! Why didn’t I think of it first?!” But you didn’t. And this is why you need to seek advice from people who might know better.

Later in the day, I was talking to another friend. This time, amidst a conversation that stretched from discussing a funny video on YouTube to the contents of our lunches, the dire and depressing notion of not knowing what to do with our lives became a topic. A mutual friend had just found a new job and was moving on, leading my friend to pronounce “I have no path” -- a very dire and depressing notion. This statement snowballed into not knowing what sort of path she wanted to be on, and I admit, I could relate. Being a 20-something, there are only few things we are certain of: student loans, still being regularly carded and usually not falling prey to some sort of acid indigestion.

Being certain of exactly what sort of path we want to be on is rare. And you know what? I think that’s okay. Knowing what path you want to be on requires knowing yourself to a certain extent, and at 22-years-old, I don’t think I can say I know myself to the point where I can be 100% sure of what it is I want to do with the rest of my life. That’s a lot of pressure for someone who can’t even commit to a hair color for more than a year, don’t you think?

I think the best one can do is zero in on what we are good at and what we are passionate about and hope to pursue those things. At least if we’re figuring out our strengths and weaknesses, then we might be in a better position to learn how to capitalize on those strengths and improve upon those weaknesses and find a path that allows us to accomplish both of those things.

For now, I am still trying to determine which path I should pursue. I know that I am not exactly happy with where I am now -- but I do think that is part of figuring it all out. I at least have learned enough to know what I don’t want, and slowly, but surely, I am compiling a list that will enable me and empower me to pursue the path that will lead me to happiness.

Sorry -- that got a bit philosophical at the end there, but hey, I did warn you. Sort of.

Identity Crisis

As I've mentioned in a previous post about the pros and cons of the unemployed life, one of my biggest daily struggles is coming up with an adequate answer to the question of "how is the job hunt going?" A seemingly innocent and harmless question usually asked with the best of intentions or at least to make conversation. At the same time, I usually cringe a bit on the inside when faced with that question, and even worse, the question of what exactly I want to do.

So much hinges on your career and what it is you want to do -- more so than I guess it would seem. While in college, the biggest question I was asked was "what is your major?" I feel as though now that I'm out in the real world, I now have to define who I am and my interests by what career path I choose and the job that comes along with it. But right now, my prospective career and job are elusive concepts to me. With two months of unemployment under my belt, I am constantly re-evaluating what it is that I am looking for out of a career. My "About Me" page begins to touch upon some of what I want out of a job: a "love of writing, reading, meeting new people/being part of a team and engaging in something that has the ability to be creative and challenge/influence people" that can be merged with the some of the "things I love" in some way -- if at all possible. But trying to sift through job searches and LinkedIn pages for a job that encompasses all of that is a tall order and generally overwhelming.

I wouldn't say that the title of this post is implying that I, myself, am having an "identity crisis," but I think more of what I meant by it is that I feel as though I could end up being defined by the job I choose or the career path I take. I know that when I told people my majors (English Literature and Italian studies) that, inevitably, they would mentally place me into this certain niche with what they assume English Lit. and language majors to be. I have been placing a lot of pressure on myself to find an entry level position that will serve as a stepping stone towards my ultimate career goal of hopefully getting into media -- whether print or digital -- because I fear what will happen if I don't. I have accomplished a lot up until this point: a stellar GPA, great skills through past work experience and a successful overseas internship, but it's daunting to think that I could end up settling for something that doesn't utilize or demonstrate any of that, and even worse, inhibits my future goals.

Throughout this period of unemployment, boredom and job hunting, I have definitely experienced quite a range of emotions. I think the most important thing I have learned thus far is to try to stay focused on what my end goal is and what I need to do to get there. Even though, at this point, I know I'm probably going to have to get a job that might not be exactly what I want to do and might not even be full-time, I need to remember that it does not need to necessarily define me or negate my previous accomplishments, but instead, hope that it will enable me to gain more confidence and a greater sense of independence that will hopefully translate into a re-energized job search and better results.
I appreciate all of you who read my blog and continue to stick with me while I continue my job search and go through the ups-and-downs of post-graduate life. I know it's a process and transition that every one faces at one point or another and it's nice to know that I have a little fan-base supporting me as I go through all of this.

Thank you!

A Pick-Me Up

This week has definitely (and unfortunately) been one of my most unproductive of late. Most of that unproductivity had to do with the fact that I was coming down with a cold, but I think some of it also had to do with a deflated ego over the fact that I'm now onto my second month and still job searching. Everyone I have talked to has been really supportive and insisting that "times are tough" and that it will happen eventually, but for someone like me who went from working two jobs on campus and maintaining a 3.9 GPA, I am desperate for a schedule filled with tasks, assignments and a sense of purpose.

However, today, I woke up feeling especially lazy and wondering how I was going to fill yet another day of too much free time. I did what any other unemployed soul would do: I woke up, made myself an egg, made my dog an egg, and then checked my email. Only this time, my heart dropped -- inside my inbox was an email from one of the graduate schools I applied to with a decision about my application.

This was it. If I didn't get in, I would feel as though there would be no hope for the other three schools I applied to. Why would they want to accept me if this other one didn't? I figured this would set the tone for drawn out disappointment as I waited for other acceptance/rejection letters to arrive. If I did get in, well, this meant I could go to grad school. Even if I didn't get in anywhere else, I was in and I did it.

I clicked the link that would reveal the decision and I breathed a sigh of relief: I got in! All of the countless hours and stress spent applying and wondering about my application had paid off and I had an acceptance from a graduate school to show for it. It was a much needed pick-me-up in a week full of sniffles, laziness and that constant nagging voice asking myself "What am I going to do with my life?" I can head into the weekend with a renewed sense of faith in myself and hopefully a reinvigorated look at the job hunt and the future ahead.

This kid is clearly impressed by me.

Insider to Outsider

This past Friday night, I returned to my alma mater, Merrimack College, for a night filled with fun and friends. Not only was there a lot going on throughout campus -- a hockey game, a concert -- but there were a bunch of people I had promised to visit and reunite with, even if only briefly. It was a strange experience, though. Just a mere two months ago I was both a full-time student and living in the residence halls alongside fellow students. Now, I am living at home with my parents and have my Bachelor's degree under my belt. I realized I had made the transition from "insider" to "outsider" in the blink of an eye.

That may seem like a drastic thing to say considering, as I just mentioned, I haven't been out of school for more than two months. However, as I went to all of the events on campus last night, I kept thinking about how different I was than some of the students who surrounded me, especially the underclassmen. I am in a completely different state of mind and stage of my life. I'm in the process of making preparations to become completely independent and starting my career, whereas as I looked around me, everyone else is still trying to figure out what they wanted and who they were. Now, I'm certainly not saying that I have myself 100% figured out, but when I walked into my freshman dorm room three and a half years ago, I didn't have much sense of self. While I feel as though learning who you are is an on-going process throughout your life, I can certainly say -- and with conviction -- that I am more sure of myself and who I am now than I was when I began college. And that's how it's supposed to be.

So going back to visit old friends was a great experience, but I felt as though there was somewhat of a divide. I am now on the outside looking in. I'm the same age as many of the students and in fact, I am even younger than many of them as well, but I am transitioning to a completely new life. They're just not there yet and it's hard for me to find where I fit in with my friends who have yet to face the post-grad woes and those friends who are already well past that stage. When I visit Merrimack, I laugh and can relate to everything that is currently going on in my friends' lives obviously, but I don't feel as connected any more. Sure, these are my friends, but I'm not "in it" with them like I used to be and I guess it's difficult to figure out how to keep parts of that past present.

Though I am merely reflecting on my experience from undergrad to post-grad life, I think it can be applicable to any transitional stage of someone's life -- from childhood to young adulthood, single life to married life, old job to new job -- so I suppose that learning how to deal with it and make sense of these changes is something that will be useful throughout my entire life.

A slightly (and by slightly, I mean very) embarrassing picture of me cooking at home
as a bright-eyed freshman in college back in the fall of 08

Three years later, ringing in the new year and a new life as a post-grad at the end of 2011 into 2012