Go back to your favorite playground as a child one of these days, and notice how small everything looks. The once massive jungle gym is now merely a couple of plastic tubes and a mini dome. The swing set that used to send you to the moon can now barely hold your beer gut. The field of dreams where you played intense kickball games is now easily cleared with several long strides and the monkey bars seem flimsier than the ancient bar stools at your local dive bar. As a child, I loved the playground. The excitement of the seesaw was comparable to the exhilaration of the Millennium Force and a trip to the sandbox was never complete without making a new friend. There is truly no better team building exercise than building the world's largest sand castle with a perfect stranger. Even in my youth, I was a sucker for a good networking oppurtunity.
Recently I went on an Alternative Spring Break Trip where forty other young adults and myself sacrificed a week of body shots in Panama City Beach to work on community service projects in the Negev desert. Due to the fact that this desert has yet to follow suit with the Mojave's display of resourcefulness, there is very little to do for a group of party animals in their prime, and thus we were quite limited in our afterhours activities. There was however, a massive playground where the village kids entertained themselves during the day, but was completely deserted in the evenings. Every night after getting a bit sauced up at the local grocery store (for lack of an actual bar) we would head to this childhood mecca and play around until the wee hours in the morning, way longer than any of our moms would have ever let us stay. One can laugh at the fact that we had nothing else to do but play around like little kids at summer camp, but there is no argument to the fact that college kids can turn anything into a drinking game, and this was no exception.
Similarly, I went to a local swimming pool yesterday and observed the ridiculousness of what was going on around me. I remember a time when swimming meant diving for rings and jumping off the diving board, there was not a single fear of stepping out in public in a bathing suit, nor any question of what bottom-top combination would make my stomach look more defined. Yet at this pool, the floaties and flippers were replaced with blow-up pong tables, while diving for rings was upgraded to diving to attempt an underwater beer bong. The only plastic pool toys in sight were the red and blue Solo cups filled with foreign liquids and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves just as much as the swim time that was held in such high regard as a kid. Really the only aspect of the day that remained characteristic of a summer camp experience was the fact that that the dozens of people in the water seemed to ignore the existence of the indoor bathrooms, a situation made worse due to the mass liquid consumption taking place. Ultimately this means that said pool was no cleaner than the pee-infested water of your local baby pool, regardless of the age difference of respective occupants. Please attempt to hold down your lunch however and continue reading, I should have posted a disclaimer with that thought.
Anyway...
The city of Las Vegas has an amazing new marketing campaign called Camp Vegas. I don't know if you've seen this deliciously graphic and succinct commercial but it truly encompasses the idea that youth is no longer in fact, wasted on the young.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nbIF9HZyjkk&feature=player_embedded
Perhaps it is the availability of the new age sorcerer's stone known as Botox and other age-defying technology that keeps adults young, but the more I think about it, the more I realize that while my childhood is gone, my youth never has to be. In nearly every one of my liberal arts classes, there were senior citizens who were part of a community program in conjunction with Ohio State to allow individuals to sit-in on classes without actually taking them for credit. I never really understood this when i was younger, after all, my time was precious and class would sometimes inflict on commitments in my social life. Yet, after awhile, I started realizing that the learning process will never stop, but only get more intricate after I clean all the Natty Light out of my ears and really start paying attention to what's going on around me.
The Camp Vegas commercial does not only display the global desire to drink and subsequently rub down a beautiful stranger, but a thirst for experiencing life to the fullest possible potential. As a child, one can have the imagination to build a complete fantasy world in the comfort of your own mind. As an adult, one has the mental capacity and is able to find the resources to build a reality from this fantastical imagination. Though there is no longer the luxury of comfort, as one can lose a home or a grip on reality with a faulty investment, adults truly have the advantage of freedom in pursuing actions out of their thoughts. Even now, I have friends who have built lucrative businesses from the ground up, ones who are attending medical school to save lives and find cures for devastating diseases, and even others who are writing thoughtful blogs that will motivate and inspire their peers (ahhh got ya!).
So what can we learn from our childhood selves that can help us as we continue this trek into our adult lives? For one thing, I will continue not to take candy from strangers. This rule, in fact, is crucial to college girls as they venture onto numerous beer pong tables and explore various sports team annexes throughout campus. To this day, I make sure that I watch the bartender make my drink and I'm not accepting foreign shots from questionable looking men (only attractive men-kidding mom!). I will also vow to continue helping my fellow peers in sand-castle building and any other other difficult endeavors they may attempt. After all, you never know when you, yourself, will come across some quicksand and will need a hand in turn, or a quick push on the swings to get you back to your regular pumping-pace. Additionally, it is important to take heed to the rules of the pool, while understanding how to bat your eyelashes at the lifeguard who will cut you some slack if you mend them a little bit. Boys- I understand you don't use mascara and thus your lashes do not have the body to pull off this particular maneuver. In this case I would suggest you acquire some adequate sales skills (Ohio State Calling is always hiring -the highest paying job on campus!) or perhaps know how to get a hold of a good lawyer. Finally, childhood should have ultimately taught us that a rough fall may have scraped your knees and made you cry ("yea right Meem, I never cried"), but you always got up, cleaned your bruises, wiped your tears, and continued to mark your territory as the master of the playground. And if that analogy really doesn't do it for you, register yourself to Camp Vegas, grab a cocktail, and if you're not smiling in mere minutes then good riddance Grinch, I don't know what to tell ya.
Meem
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Monday, July 26, 2010
So What Are You Doing?
"So what are you doing?"
This question is like a chameleon adapting to its different environments.
After a few too many $1 mug refills, the question is waat r u doign
A quick but efficient T9 word text at work/school is What are you doing?
And the flirtatious inquiry sent electronically or personally is so what are you doing... :) The smiley face is crucial on that one.
But now that damn question is my number one pet peeve.
Extended family, nosey neighbors, friends from high school - everyone and their brother asks me that question. “So what are you doing?” It’s a two part question to gauge my intelligence: a. Did I graduate b. Do I have a job. At first, I did not mind answering this because I was fresh out commencement and eager to share my accomplishments. “Yes! I graduated! And now I have a job!” It sounds good right? That’s what I thought
Now I get pressed to divulge more. What was my major? Communication. I instantly feel the burning, judgey judging eyes. I don’t know how this major, based on the human condition of..oh I don’t know..COMMUNICATING was given a bad rep. I’m not going to point my a finger at the football players wandering in late to class because I did get to work on a project with James Laurinaitis my sophomore year. Perhaps it was the fine ladies of Alpha whathaveyou taking up an entire row and drawing in children’s coloring books during lecture (true story) Whatever the case, communication as an area of study has been deemed unworthy in the eyes of my questioners who have daughters attending Northwestern grad school or have graduated with a doctorate degree themselves. Sure, my classes didn’t involve organic chemistry or engineering projects that kept me awake for 5 straight weeks but don’t we all remember the biblical story of Babel? Just to recap, the plot was that everyone forgot how to communicate with one other and they all DIED (or something like that)
My job brings about another round of furrowed brows. Telling adults that I’m in social media marketing just leaves them dumbfounded and telling colleagues that I’m in social media marketing just leaves them thinking they’ve found dumb. (ha...that was bad) Moving on
Clearly I’m a bit bitter. Maybe it is because I’m struggling with a summer in-between of feeling proud that I’m in adulthood and also incredibly jealous of those still living their college glory days. Or maybe it is because I feel I am being unfairly cast as a girl who sits on facebook all day as her job and has a degree in talking - gold star to you Holly! 4 for you Glenn Cocoa! Or maybe it’s just because I’m on my period and extremely emotional...probs just that.
While I appreciate the people who truly are concerned with my well being and wondering how my life is shaping out, I am just getting sick of being asked all the time. It has become the go-to conversation starter and frankly, I miss the days of the initial “how are you” and then letting my intellect and wit steer the conversation from there. So I’m just going to set the record straight once and for all:
“I graduated from The Ohio State University with a Bachelor of the Arts degree from the College of Social and Behavior Sciences with a focus in strategic communication on June 13th, 2010. I am currently residing on campus in a house with five other girls and my lease expires on the second of September. I am working at a start-up digital marketing agency where I am an account manager of several local establishments and the director of online business development for a national company”
Now watt r u doign ??
Hol
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Does Your Company Have an Oval?
One of the highlights of my senior year of high school was the college visits that routinely got me out of school for a completely legitimate reason for once. This was a key opportunity for me to really stretch my social wings and utilize all my newly developed party tricks in the enchanting realm of the college world. Oh, and I guess it was also kind of important to see where I would attend school for the next four years. To this day I remember the feeling I got as I took my first steps on Ohio State's campus. Even though there were several solid choices in the running, something about OSU just seemed right to me. Or maybe it was the hundreds of barely dressed coeds laying out in the oval that convinced me. This was nearly five years ago however so it is understandable why I do not quite remember.
Anyhow, its a little funny how looking for a job reminds me of applying to different schools. While it is nice that I have been provided with countless of opportunities to pursue, at times all these choices can be a bit overwhelming. Initially one must decide where they wish to live. Personally I did not exactly have utter liberty in this sector of my decision as my mother's separation anxiety drives her to call me three times a day as it is. One of the reach schools I did apply to however was Arizona State in part of a little wishful thinking that I could be studying all day in my bathing suit (though my topic of interest would probably have had no academic focus). The process was a breeze considering ASU's application was a bit reminiscent of a third grade aptitude test, though I never ended up going there. I ultimately narrowed down my decision (and calming my poor mother's nerves) to two schools: Ohio State and Ohio University. OU actually ended up playing a stringent PR game as I visited during Palmerfest and participated in activities that make me never want to have children for the sheer reason that oneday they will be 18 and participating in them. In the end, I chose Ohio State, a decision I have only regretted when I am forced to walk to class, knees deep in snow.
While the party factor is important, as I sit here laughing at the idea of me trying to entertain my ADD self at Wright State, there are other big variables one must take into the equation. While looking for jobs, as colleges, one must take into account a huge aspect that affects all walks of life: location location location. Location is huge because it affects the demography, cost of living, and how many pairs of fake boobs you will see in their natural habitat. Location will dictate what activities one will be involved with, the kinds of people one will meet and most importantly the new clothes one will have to consider buying, for practical purposes of course. After all, there is no better place to rock $600 boots then on the cold Chicago streets (Dad, if you're reading this, it is just a mere comment on how cold it is in winter, and not at all suggesting I would really like a pair http://shop.nordstrom.com/S/3099890/0~2376778~2372808~6007659~6011963~6025467?mediumthumbnail=Y&origin=category&searchtype=&pbo=6025467&P=1).
Location is also an issue when deliberating the proximity that one wants to be with people who they know and a culture they can relate with. While I'm sure there is a demand for young professionals in places like Boise, Idaho, I don't think I could ever quite get myself to move there, especially given that potatoes are my least favorite starch.
Another big issue to consider when looking for a job is deciding what the hell you really want to do. This is a bit of an issue for me, considering that while I would ultimately like to have my own show on the food network, I don't think there are any available time slots right now. While the execs at FoodTV decide how they're going to break the news to Robyn Miller that her recipes suck and she will be replaced with "Meem's Party in the Kitchen," I will have to figure out something else. So now, one takes in their skills and weaknesses, their likes and dislikes, and determines where to direct their job hunting efforts. This process of elimination is sort of how I realized that my lack of consumer-restraint disallowed me to make a proper financial planning major, and my sole computer use involving Microsoft Word and the internet took CS&E out of the running.
Similarly to searching for a major, I am a bit lost on this job search. Long gone are my parents' hopes that I could have settled with an accounting degree and a definitive job offer immediately after college. Instead I graduated as a History and Political Science double major with a minor in Econ. This means that I was very, very good at figuring out exactly what major-minor combination would be least likely to guarantee me a 6 figure salary. It is uncanny, really, how my job search has become a similar cat and mouse chase to picking my major, as tricky commitment issues have always seemed to dictate my decisions. Can I really spend three years of my life with my head stuck in a book in Law School, or work a desk job indefinitely in the corporate world? Probably not happily, hell I can't even commit to a breakfast cereal. Plus, in this day and age there are just so many options. I feel like I could be selling myself short if I don't find something I feel good doing. After all, you can find a job doing anything these days, careers are not limited to your classic occupations anymore. Kids are not going to grow up exclaiming they want to be a teacher or a firefighter, they're going to be saying they want to run a hedge fund or be a social media relations consultant.
At the end of the day, I chose Ohio State because I felt home here. I only hope that my future job hunt will result in a fit that will work just as well.
Meem
Anyhow, its a little funny how looking for a job reminds me of applying to different schools. While it is nice that I have been provided with countless of opportunities to pursue, at times all these choices can be a bit overwhelming. Initially one must decide where they wish to live. Personally I did not exactly have utter liberty in this sector of my decision as my mother's separation anxiety drives her to call me three times a day as it is. One of the reach schools I did apply to however was Arizona State in part of a little wishful thinking that I could be studying all day in my bathing suit (though my topic of interest would probably have had no academic focus). The process was a breeze considering ASU's application was a bit reminiscent of a third grade aptitude test, though I never ended up going there. I ultimately narrowed down my decision (and calming my poor mother's nerves) to two schools: Ohio State and Ohio University. OU actually ended up playing a stringent PR game as I visited during Palmerfest and participated in activities that make me never want to have children for the sheer reason that oneday they will be 18 and participating in them. In the end, I chose Ohio State, a decision I have only regretted when I am forced to walk to class, knees deep in snow.
While the party factor is important, as I sit here laughing at the idea of me trying to entertain my ADD self at Wright State, there are other big variables one must take into the equation. While looking for jobs, as colleges, one must take into account a huge aspect that affects all walks of life: location location location. Location is huge because it affects the demography, cost of living, and how many pairs of fake boobs you will see in their natural habitat. Location will dictate what activities one will be involved with, the kinds of people one will meet and most importantly the new clothes one will have to consider buying, for practical purposes of course. After all, there is no better place to rock $600 boots then on the cold Chicago streets (Dad, if you're reading this, it is just a mere comment on how cold it is in winter, and not at all suggesting I would really like a pair http://shop.nordstrom.com/S/3099890/0~2376778~2372808~6007659~6011963~6025467?mediumthumbnail=Y&origin=category&searchtype=&pbo=6025467&P=1).
Location is also an issue when deliberating the proximity that one wants to be with people who they know and a culture they can relate with. While I'm sure there is a demand for young professionals in places like Boise, Idaho, I don't think I could ever quite get myself to move there, especially given that potatoes are my least favorite starch.
Another big issue to consider when looking for a job is deciding what the hell you really want to do. This is a bit of an issue for me, considering that while I would ultimately like to have my own show on the food network, I don't think there are any available time slots right now. While the execs at FoodTV decide how they're going to break the news to Robyn Miller that her recipes suck and she will be replaced with "Meem's Party in the Kitchen," I will have to figure out something else. So now, one takes in their skills and weaknesses, their likes and dislikes, and determines where to direct their job hunting efforts. This process of elimination is sort of how I realized that my lack of consumer-restraint disallowed me to make a proper financial planning major, and my sole computer use involving Microsoft Word and the internet took CS&E out of the running.
Similarly to searching for a major, I am a bit lost on this job search. Long gone are my parents' hopes that I could have settled with an accounting degree and a definitive job offer immediately after college. Instead I graduated as a History and Political Science double major with a minor in Econ. This means that I was very, very good at figuring out exactly what major-minor combination would be least likely to guarantee me a 6 figure salary. It is uncanny, really, how my job search has become a similar cat and mouse chase to picking my major, as tricky commitment issues have always seemed to dictate my decisions. Can I really spend three years of my life with my head stuck in a book in Law School, or work a desk job indefinitely in the corporate world? Probably not happily, hell I can't even commit to a breakfast cereal. Plus, in this day and age there are just so many options. I feel like I could be selling myself short if I don't find something I feel good doing. After all, you can find a job doing anything these days, careers are not limited to your classic occupations anymore. Kids are not going to grow up exclaiming they want to be a teacher or a firefighter, they're going to be saying they want to run a hedge fund or be a social media relations consultant.
At the end of the day, I chose Ohio State because I felt home here. I only hope that my future job hunt will result in a fit that will work just as well.
Meem
Thursday, July 22, 2010
ID me BItch!
I purchased a bottle of wine at the grocery store yesterday and didn't even get carded. It has been a mere year since my 21st birthday and apparently I have already surpassed the "she looks under," category. While there was a time that this sort of free pass would have elated me, now it seems a bit anticlimactic. Not to sound like a 90 lb girl complaining about her obesity, but there are times when I feel just a little over the hill. I'm not launching into a quarter-life crisis or anything, I just think its strange how life flies by so fast. One minute I am anxiously awaiting a doorman to ignore the fact that the picture on my id looks nothing like me, and the next I am basically expected to order a drink each time I sit down in a restaurant. What comes next? A hip replacement?
In reality, everyone complains about getting old. Hell my grandma talks about her 20s with the same nostalgia that Lindsay Lohan talks about blowing coke off Sam Ronson's err... vinyl (too soon?). It is so easy to reminisce about a time in the past that seemed to make you happy. After all, in the grand scheme of things you don't remember how much it sucked to get grounded for missing curfew, only how much fun it was to get drunk with your friends before a friday football game. This is why it's important to just appreciate where you are in the present, especially when the present is somewhere in between a keg stand and a martini? Kegtini? (ouch meem that was just bad)
Anyway, the whole thing about getting older is that you really can't even tell when the switch went off. The transition between different stages of life are as hazy as Clay Aiken's sexual identity. Its not exactly clear at what pinnacle point an individual becomes an adult. Yet at a certain point, one's childhood simply gets discarded, kinda like the tie dye and hemp necklaces I threw out of my closet before coming to college. Its little events like this one, that really mark your growth as an individual, and you don't even realize that they dictate a severe difference in maturity level from one stage of your life to the next. Just a couple weeks ago I received an invitation for a wedding that was addressed to me, plus one. This was quite the shocker because I for one, wasn't even aware that I had been booted from the kids' table. Now instead of mulling over what to wear, I have to go shopping for a date as well. Damn, adulthood is tiring.
Adulthood is also expensive. I feel like I'm getting billed for everythinig these days. The most miniscule of life's novelties cost money. Just this week, parking passes at my place of work became a requirement for the lot. So now, not only does it cost an arm and a leg to buy, wash, and feed my car with gasoline, I cannot even drive it without paying additional costs anymore. The ultimate irony of this however, is that I am driving my car in the first place to get payed. At this point, I'm grateful that oxygen is free and the city of Columbus has not found some obscure way to tax that as well.
I know that I shouldn't complain. In reality, adulthood isn't so bad. You get to stay up past midnight, come and go as you please and eat whatever junk food your over the hill heart desires. Well, unless you enjoy having sex, and then I would suggest you put down that junior bacon chesseburger.
Meem
In reality, everyone complains about getting old. Hell my grandma talks about her 20s with the same nostalgia that Lindsay Lohan talks about blowing coke off Sam Ronson's err... vinyl (too soon?). It is so easy to reminisce about a time in the past that seemed to make you happy. After all, in the grand scheme of things you don't remember how much it sucked to get grounded for missing curfew, only how much fun it was to get drunk with your friends before a friday football game. This is why it's important to just appreciate where you are in the present, especially when the present is somewhere in between a keg stand and a martini? Kegtini? (ouch meem that was just bad)
Anyway, the whole thing about getting older is that you really can't even tell when the switch went off. The transition between different stages of life are as hazy as Clay Aiken's sexual identity. Its not exactly clear at what pinnacle point an individual becomes an adult. Yet at a certain point, one's childhood simply gets discarded, kinda like the tie dye and hemp necklaces I threw out of my closet before coming to college. Its little events like this one, that really mark your growth as an individual, and you don't even realize that they dictate a severe difference in maturity level from one stage of your life to the next. Just a couple weeks ago I received an invitation for a wedding that was addressed to me, plus one. This was quite the shocker because I for one, wasn't even aware that I had been booted from the kids' table. Now instead of mulling over what to wear, I have to go shopping for a date as well. Damn, adulthood is tiring.
Adulthood is also expensive. I feel like I'm getting billed for everythinig these days. The most miniscule of life's novelties cost money. Just this week, parking passes at my place of work became a requirement for the lot. So now, not only does it cost an arm and a leg to buy, wash, and feed my car with gasoline, I cannot even drive it without paying additional costs anymore. The ultimate irony of this however, is that I am driving my car in the first place to get payed. At this point, I'm grateful that oxygen is free and the city of Columbus has not found some obscure way to tax that as well.
I know that I shouldn't complain. In reality, adulthood isn't so bad. You get to stay up past midnight, come and go as you please and eat whatever junk food your over the hill heart desires. Well, unless you enjoy having sex, and then I would suggest you put down that junior bacon chesseburger.
Meem
Monday, July 12, 2010
You Really Want to Know My Biggest Weakness?
There comes a time in the summer in-between when one must take a break from living in limbo to take on a professional interview. The interview is a strange and awkward situation. It occurs when an employer sits down their subject and begins to conduct a draining question and answer session that is slightly less uncomfortable then an annual trip to the private parts doctor. At first, one may get excited about the prospect of being interviewed for any sort of big-kid job. After all, weeks of being the oldest person at The O and the youngest at Bar Louie, leads an individual to wonder when they will actually start to move on with their life. Finally, when someone is allowing you the chance to proclaim your worth and explain that four years of college has harbored more then sensational beer pong skills, it is more than exciting to charm your way into the working world. In theory however, this perception of the interview is far more glamorous then the way it goes in reality.
The interview is really just life’s little way of breaking people down, humbling them into the realization that they are just a tiny little membrane of society. Interviews are reminiscent of the time when we were flung from our high horses senior year of high school, into the little shrimps that clumped together at fraternity after hours freshmen year. The interview, like the first breaths of college air, reminds us that we really are not that big and bad, even though the weed-loving english teacher was always willing to write you a note out of class, or your friendship with the vice principal allowed you excessive pardon for your constant misbehavior. One minute you feel like a hot shot being amongst the only students in school old enough to buy cigarettes, the next you are herded like cattle into the freshmen dorms, realizing that you are just another little bitch with a fake ID. The interview gives you this same feeling of worthlessness, as you go from being the all-knowing fourth year college student, to the out-of towner that can’t figure out what set of elevators to take in the lobby of the sky-scraping downtown office. As you get to the right set of doors, tired, exasperated and nervous you realize that the hard part hasn’t even begun.
As you sit in the waiting room, you drum your fingers nervously as employees walk by smiling knowingly. They see you fresh out of college, sitting awkwardly in your new suit that actually fits you normally, and not one you would wear to an office hoes rager at your local party house. Finally somebody comes and claims you as their personal little prey, and you follow them into their office, assuming these next couple hours may be more painful than watching thirteen year-olds grind up against each other at your cousin’s Bar-Mitzvah. And then finally you become limp with helplessness as questions start being thrown at you, and you have no choice but to answer them.
I cannot even help but think of how I would really answer their questions, given of course, that a job would not be my final goal. When asked why I want the position, I want to look at them wide eyed and ask them how scared shitless they were after they graduated college with no place to go. Four years of an upper-middle class high school that encourages success and excellence, and the prospect of one not attending a four year university is pretty much out of the question. Four years of living off Ohio State’s campus where one can find a forty year-old at the liquor store whose definition of splurging involves buying a forty of Miller High Life versus a forty of Mickey’s. Why do I want this job??!! Because this job comes with a paycheck, and I must start saving for my penthouse in the city! Because my biggest fear is that I will be forced to heave home to live with my parents and work in the suburbs! However, this answer is absolutely inappropriate to relay to your future boss. Therefore you rattle off your most integral skills and somehow relate them to tasks you would be responsible for in your position.
The real kicker however is when they ask what your biggest weakness is. I’m sorry but haven’t we all read enough books on professional guidance and cosmo articles to know exactly how to answer that question? Its almost like when your grandmother asks you where you spent your birthday money. You wouldn’t tell her it went towards paying the cable bill at Eddie George’s right? Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that to answer this specific question you just take a positive quality and somehow turn it into a negative one. I try too hard to please everyone, I never give up even if the task seems impossible, I focus too much on details, I am too hard on myself, blah, blah, blah, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. You know what I really want to tell them? My biggest weakness is men and alcohol. And if you don’t like that answer and would prefer me to spit out something that basically says that I’m a pushover, then the only thing more skewed then my response is the premise that such a screening process really finds the rightful candidate for a job.
Finally, your interviewer asks if you have any questions for them. The same book that describes exactly how to answer the question regarding your biggest weakness will say that one MUST have a couple questions to ask, when asked if you have any questions. And so instead of asking the questions that really come to mind, i.e., what will I be paid, where's the nearest happy hour, is an Ohio State jersey acceptable to wear on casual fridays, one will have to ask the interviewer questions that they have heard a million and a half times. What has your career path consisted of, what is the hardest part about your job, what is the most challenging aspect of this industry, etc. Additionally this is usually the part of the interview when my previous commentary on social media usually comes into play. *And just as a disclaimer my interviewer DID look me up on Facebook and mentioned that he knew I was social because of my (rattled off some number) friends. *
Ultimately, one walks out of an interview unsure of how they did. Whether or not this process is an efficient way to hire people, that is not for the lowly college graduate to decide. It is just part of the physics of life, like the fact that dessert should be eaten after dinner, or how George Clooney will still be sexy in the nursing home. While you may have done everything right on your part, you never really know what answers your potential employers were looking for, or whose uncle knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody, etc. Interviews are difficult and the only thing more aggravating then the actual process is being asked, “how’d it go?” over and over and over afterward. *And just as a disclaimer, please refrain from asking me this question.* Thanks.
Meem
The interview is really just life’s little way of breaking people down, humbling them into the realization that they are just a tiny little membrane of society. Interviews are reminiscent of the time when we were flung from our high horses senior year of high school, into the little shrimps that clumped together at fraternity after hours freshmen year. The interview, like the first breaths of college air, reminds us that we really are not that big and bad, even though the weed-loving english teacher was always willing to write you a note out of class, or your friendship with the vice principal allowed you excessive pardon for your constant misbehavior. One minute you feel like a hot shot being amongst the only students in school old enough to buy cigarettes, the next you are herded like cattle into the freshmen dorms, realizing that you are just another little bitch with a fake ID. The interview gives you this same feeling of worthlessness, as you go from being the all-knowing fourth year college student, to the out-of towner that can’t figure out what set of elevators to take in the lobby of the sky-scraping downtown office. As you get to the right set of doors, tired, exasperated and nervous you realize that the hard part hasn’t even begun.
As you sit in the waiting room, you drum your fingers nervously as employees walk by smiling knowingly. They see you fresh out of college, sitting awkwardly in your new suit that actually fits you normally, and not one you would wear to an office hoes rager at your local party house. Finally somebody comes and claims you as their personal little prey, and you follow them into their office, assuming these next couple hours may be more painful than watching thirteen year-olds grind up against each other at your cousin’s Bar-Mitzvah. And then finally you become limp with helplessness as questions start being thrown at you, and you have no choice but to answer them.
I cannot even help but think of how I would really answer their questions, given of course, that a job would not be my final goal. When asked why I want the position, I want to look at them wide eyed and ask them how scared shitless they were after they graduated college with no place to go. Four years of an upper-middle class high school that encourages success and excellence, and the prospect of one not attending a four year university is pretty much out of the question. Four years of living off Ohio State’s campus where one can find a forty year-old at the liquor store whose definition of splurging involves buying a forty of Miller High Life versus a forty of Mickey’s. Why do I want this job??!! Because this job comes with a paycheck, and I must start saving for my penthouse in the city! Because my biggest fear is that I will be forced to heave home to live with my parents and work in the suburbs! However, this answer is absolutely inappropriate to relay to your future boss. Therefore you rattle off your most integral skills and somehow relate them to tasks you would be responsible for in your position.
The real kicker however is when they ask what your biggest weakness is. I’m sorry but haven’t we all read enough books on professional guidance and cosmo articles to know exactly how to answer that question? Its almost like when your grandmother asks you where you spent your birthday money. You wouldn’t tell her it went towards paying the cable bill at Eddie George’s right? Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you know that to answer this specific question you just take a positive quality and somehow turn it into a negative one. I try too hard to please everyone, I never give up even if the task seems impossible, I focus too much on details, I am too hard on myself, blah, blah, blah, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit. You know what I really want to tell them? My biggest weakness is men and alcohol. And if you don’t like that answer and would prefer me to spit out something that basically says that I’m a pushover, then the only thing more skewed then my response is the premise that such a screening process really finds the rightful candidate for a job.
Finally, your interviewer asks if you have any questions for them. The same book that describes exactly how to answer the question regarding your biggest weakness will say that one MUST have a couple questions to ask, when asked if you have any questions. And so instead of asking the questions that really come to mind, i.e., what will I be paid, where's the nearest happy hour, is an Ohio State jersey acceptable to wear on casual fridays, one will have to ask the interviewer questions that they have heard a million and a half times. What has your career path consisted of, what is the hardest part about your job, what is the most challenging aspect of this industry, etc. Additionally this is usually the part of the interview when my previous commentary on social media usually comes into play. *And just as a disclaimer my interviewer DID look me up on Facebook and mentioned that he knew I was social because of my (rattled off some number) friends. *
Ultimately, one walks out of an interview unsure of how they did. Whether or not this process is an efficient way to hire people, that is not for the lowly college graduate to decide. It is just part of the physics of life, like the fact that dessert should be eaten after dinner, or how George Clooney will still be sexy in the nursing home. While you may have done everything right on your part, you never really know what answers your potential employers were looking for, or whose uncle knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody, etc. Interviews are difficult and the only thing more aggravating then the actual process is being asked, “how’d it go?” over and over and over afterward. *And just as a disclaimer, please refrain from asking me this question.* Thanks.
Meem
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Happy Birthday Meem
In honor of the birthday girl, I would like to share the tale of how I met Miriam.
HERE GOES IT:
It was move-in day of freshman year. Coming from out-of-state, I obviously didn’t know a single person and was terrified. It didn’t help that I was from Michigan either (apparently Ohioans hate this state?...) I was unpacking in my room, Steeb Hall 422, when an unknown girl bounced in. My roommate and I had earlier put in the Mean Girls DVD and this stranger in our doorway glanced at the TV, then back at us, and then loudly proclaimed “HE’S SEXY!!” in reference to the movie’s male suitor.
Who IS this person? I checked her out from her tank top to her fuzzy slippers as she made herself comfortable on our futon. After small-talk and establishing the crucial “yeah I like to party” topic, Mary Ann or whatever her name was asked for my number. Reluctantly, I gave it to her.
The first few days of school I would see Miriam time to time in the hallways of Steeb. I would smile and wave but that was the extent of our exchange. Frankly, she scared me. She was loud and ready to party hard. At the time, I had yet to come out of my small town shell and couldn’t take the Russian heat.
It was not until the first Saturday home football game that Meem and I bonded. We were walking back from getting Catfish Biffs and headed to a party Miriam had convinced me to go to. I nervously followed her down High Street, hesitant to go to my first pre-game party and hesitant to go with this wild girl for that matter. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a car smashed into the rear of another and shattered glass showered down on us.
“WE COULD’VE DIED!!!” we screamed as we ran away from the scene. We breathlessly brushed the glass off one another and laughed at our close call with death. It was in that moment running down High Street I looked at her for who she really was - a friend. We continued on to the party oblivious to the fact the car incident would be mild compared to future Holly and Miriam adventures.
It took a fender bender to solidify the BFF status but I am grateful to the person who slammed on his brakes a little too late. Who started as a crazy rando bursting in my dorm became my other half. What would have been a scary freshman year, Miriam made unforgettable by throwing me my first (and best) birthday away from home. She was the one encouraging me to take Beta’s 3 story beer bong, dancing with me in Nut House cage, teaching me how to blow in beer pong and assuring me it wasn’t that bad to skip class to play in the Oval. I honestly believe I would have been aimlessly wandering around Ohio State’s campus lost and confused all of freshman year had I not met Meem.
Four years later, Miriam and I have a lengthy roster of college adventures and awkward situations. From personal problems to walk-of-shame stories, her number is the first I dial. Break-ups, bad hangovers, job disappointments, annoying bops - she has been with me through it all. Hell, this blog wouldn’t be here without our brilliant brainstorm over a lunch and her enthusiasm.
I promise all blog posts won’t be as cheesy as this but I figured you could use the background story on my fellow “summer in-between” partner. Although she already celebrated yesterday, I again wish my best friend a very happy birthday. She deserves it right people?!!
Hol
HERE GOES IT:
It was move-in day of freshman year. Coming from out-of-state, I obviously didn’t know a single person and was terrified. It didn’t help that I was from Michigan either (apparently Ohioans hate this state?...) I was unpacking in my room, Steeb Hall 422, when an unknown girl bounced in. My roommate and I had earlier put in the Mean Girls DVD and this stranger in our doorway glanced at the TV, then back at us, and then loudly proclaimed “HE’S SEXY!!” in reference to the movie’s male suitor.
Who IS this person? I checked her out from her tank top to her fuzzy slippers as she made herself comfortable on our futon. After small-talk and establishing the crucial “yeah I like to party” topic, Mary Ann or whatever her name was asked for my number. Reluctantly, I gave it to her.
The first few days of school I would see Miriam time to time in the hallways of Steeb. I would smile and wave but that was the extent of our exchange. Frankly, she scared me. She was loud and ready to party hard. At the time, I had yet to come out of my small town shell and couldn’t take the Russian heat.
It was not until the first Saturday home football game that Meem and I bonded. We were walking back from getting Catfish Biffs and headed to a party Miriam had convinced me to go to. I nervously followed her down High Street, hesitant to go to my first pre-game party and hesitant to go with this wild girl for that matter. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a car smashed into the rear of another and shattered glass showered down on us.
“WE COULD’VE DIED!!!” we screamed as we ran away from the scene. We breathlessly brushed the glass off one another and laughed at our close call with death. It was in that moment running down High Street I looked at her for who she really was - a friend. We continued on to the party oblivious to the fact the car incident would be mild compared to future Holly and Miriam adventures.
It took a fender bender to solidify the BFF status but I am grateful to the person who slammed on his brakes a little too late. Who started as a crazy rando bursting in my dorm became my other half. What would have been a scary freshman year, Miriam made unforgettable by throwing me my first (and best) birthday away from home. She was the one encouraging me to take Beta’s 3 story beer bong, dancing with me in Nut House cage, teaching me how to blow in beer pong and assuring me it wasn’t that bad to skip class to play in the Oval. I honestly believe I would have been aimlessly wandering around Ohio State’s campus lost and confused all of freshman year had I not met Meem.
Four years later, Miriam and I have a lengthy roster of college adventures and awkward situations. From personal problems to walk-of-shame stories, her number is the first I dial. Break-ups, bad hangovers, job disappointments, annoying bops - she has been with me through it all. Hell, this blog wouldn’t be here without our brilliant brainstorm over a lunch and her enthusiasm.
I promise all blog posts won’t be as cheesy as this but I figured you could use the background story on my fellow “summer in-between” partner. Although she already celebrated yesterday, I again wish my best friend a very happy birthday. She deserves it right people?!!
Hol
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Facebook Ruins Lives
Since the first few blissful days of our initial meeting, Holly and I have continuously stated that Facebook, does in fact, ruin lives. From this beginning honeymoon stage of our friendship, this statement has affirmed itself time and time again as countless friends have cut their study breaks short because their procrastination habits during study hours led to some sad realization, or often times misinterpretation of something they've spotted on the notorious book. Not to be too redundant, but curiosity did kill the cat. If its one thing people don't learn from, it is their own mistakes, one big one being too much unnecessary time spent facebooking. It all starts with an innocent friend request and then goes exponentially downhill from there. One little picture of a boyfriend with an attractive girl, one misunderstood personal joke, and even an insignificant "like," of a status is no longer taken lightly as a relationship transcends out of the safe friendship zone. Its silly really, until you realize your boyfriend is spending certain nights with that pretty girl he was tagged with.
Regardless, my point is that social media has seriously begun to monopolize our time and energy. For most, there is not a day that goes by without logging onto to facebook, twitter, myspace or some other form of cyber mind fuck. Facebook makes it impossible to hide the fact that you gained 20 pounds in college, or married the guy who works the fryer at the local McDonalds. Furthermore, twitter makes it possible for everyone in your network to know exactly what you are doing at any given time of day. Social media truly makes you think that you know somebody who you actually don't know at all. In our jaded world, nobody even realizes how truly creepy it is that we can pinpoint exactly why John Mayor had a bad experience at Starbucks that day or the fact that J-Lo can no longer fit into those white spandex pants without her spanx.
The relevance of this post to my current job hunt, is the fact that employers do utilize these avenues in discovering more information on prospective employees. One of my buddies was even flat out told that he lost the chance at a summer job because his facebook profile picture consisted of him, beers in hand, groping a girl wearing a 2 piece toga. Of course that girl happend to be me. This leads me to wonder, what can my prospective employers find out about me before an interview? Are they googling my name, trying to determine what sorts of escapades I was involved with in the past? Am I going to sit down for an informational meeting only to find pictures of me in a hot body contest from my freshmen year of college? Hmmm.
The thing is that I always thought this was a little ridiculous. The fact that some of my friends refused to take pictures of themselves holding beers made me roll my eyes. I felt it was just some obscure American stigma about alcohol, opposed to Europeans, who basically pour wine into their toddler's sippy cups. Yet at this point, I feel like the joke is on me.
My first job in politics was working as an intern for a Member of Canada's House of Commons. The first day on the job, my boss told me that survival in the business [politics] depended on how well one could hold their liquor. Of course this was a commentary of how incredibly important social networking is to a job as a public representative. While eventually I found that this was the case, after all nobody likes to be the drunk asshole at the fancy gala, I also found that it is slightly inconvenient that I chose to live by this motto way too early in life. In High School, I drank because I thought it was cool. Yet now, it would be more cool if I didn't have to worry about some fancy executive thinking that a party girl may not be the best candidate for the job. After all, it is way more of a liability to hire someone who may sleep through an important board meeting because they were overserved the night before, no matter how fun it is to hang out with them.
At this point there is no changing the past, only changing my attitude about it. Yes, I started to party at an early age but I have always been responsible about every professional committment I have ever had. Well... except for the day after my 21st birthday when I had to call off of my internship due to the fact that driving would have been a worse idea then getting fired at that point. This may not even count however because my boss not only happily gave me the day off but the following Monday commended me on a 21st birthday well done. They should really make a card for that...
Ultimately I am nervous about the internet because it is worse at keeping secrets then a middle school girl. While one can analyze for days why their significant other "liked," a status about some pulp topic, it is way more uncomfortable to be left unemployed because an employer did not appreciate the fact that I spent more time partying on the oval freshmen year then going to my classes. (note to possible future employers: this is only a mere example.) As Holly and I continue our trek into finding that ideal entry level gig, it is important to remember that as adults, our actions do have consequences. And while I would love for everyone to know exactly why I woke up wearing roller blades after one too many happy hours, perhaps this information should be kept out of the world wide web. So be nice to your respective forms of social media everyone, you never know when one can vindictively screw you out of a relationship, and more importantly, out of a job.
Meem
Regardless, my point is that social media has seriously begun to monopolize our time and energy. For most, there is not a day that goes by without logging onto to facebook, twitter, myspace or some other form of cyber mind fuck. Facebook makes it impossible to hide the fact that you gained 20 pounds in college, or married the guy who works the fryer at the local McDonalds. Furthermore, twitter makes it possible for everyone in your network to know exactly what you are doing at any given time of day. Social media truly makes you think that you know somebody who you actually don't know at all. In our jaded world, nobody even realizes how truly creepy it is that we can pinpoint exactly why John Mayor had a bad experience at Starbucks that day or the fact that J-Lo can no longer fit into those white spandex pants without her spanx.
The relevance of this post to my current job hunt, is the fact that employers do utilize these avenues in discovering more information on prospective employees. One of my buddies was even flat out told that he lost the chance at a summer job because his facebook profile picture consisted of him, beers in hand, groping a girl wearing a 2 piece toga. Of course that girl happend to be me. This leads me to wonder, what can my prospective employers find out about me before an interview? Are they googling my name, trying to determine what sorts of escapades I was involved with in the past? Am I going to sit down for an informational meeting only to find pictures of me in a hot body contest from my freshmen year of college? Hmmm.
The thing is that I always thought this was a little ridiculous. The fact that some of my friends refused to take pictures of themselves holding beers made me roll my eyes. I felt it was just some obscure American stigma about alcohol, opposed to Europeans, who basically pour wine into their toddler's sippy cups. Yet at this point, I feel like the joke is on me.
My first job in politics was working as an intern for a Member of Canada's House of Commons. The first day on the job, my boss told me that survival in the business [politics] depended on how well one could hold their liquor. Of course this was a commentary of how incredibly important social networking is to a job as a public representative. While eventually I found that this was the case, after all nobody likes to be the drunk asshole at the fancy gala, I also found that it is slightly inconvenient that I chose to live by this motto way too early in life. In High School, I drank because I thought it was cool. Yet now, it would be more cool if I didn't have to worry about some fancy executive thinking that a party girl may not be the best candidate for the job. After all, it is way more of a liability to hire someone who may sleep through an important board meeting because they were overserved the night before, no matter how fun it is to hang out with them.
At this point there is no changing the past, only changing my attitude about it. Yes, I started to party at an early age but I have always been responsible about every professional committment I have ever had. Well... except for the day after my 21st birthday when I had to call off of my internship due to the fact that driving would have been a worse idea then getting fired at that point. This may not even count however because my boss not only happily gave me the day off but the following Monday commended me on a 21st birthday well done. They should really make a card for that...
Ultimately I am nervous about the internet because it is worse at keeping secrets then a middle school girl. While one can analyze for days why their significant other "liked," a status about some pulp topic, it is way more uncomfortable to be left unemployed because an employer did not appreciate the fact that I spent more time partying on the oval freshmen year then going to my classes. (note to possible future employers: this is only a mere example.) As Holly and I continue our trek into finding that ideal entry level gig, it is important to remember that as adults, our actions do have consequences. And while I would love for everyone to know exactly why I woke up wearing roller blades after one too many happy hours, perhaps this information should be kept out of the world wide web. So be nice to your respective forms of social media everyone, you never know when one can vindictively screw you out of a relationship, and more importantly, out of a job.
Meem
Friday, July 2, 2010
Welcome to "The Real World"
Currently, I am in “the real world.” I include quotation marks because my lifestyle is nowhere near a real world sans quotation marks. I have a full time job that requires me to be present 9-5 but it is far removed from a corporate setting. The casual work environment is perfect for post graduate Holly who does not yet grasp fundamentals such as “responsibility” “professionalism” and “not drinking on a Tuesday night”. I am about as far in the door to the real world as I care to venture this summer and pretty content with that.
The ambiguous term “the real world” was brought up by Meem earlier. We wish there was a more apt phrase we could use when describing this sloppy, peculiar stage of our lives but “the real world” will have to do. So far from what I’ve experienced, “the real world” a dream-like state of life where we are independent enough to survive on our own but blissfully live a life void of responsibilities that actually require the use of any survival skills. Besides having to remember to drink water and sleep a few hours, living in “the real world” is like that time in junior high you were required to take care of a doll for a week like it was a real baby but everyone ended up shoving it in their lockers or dropping it on the head.
For example:
“the real world,” - have margaritas during lunch break at work
the real world - have a chicken alfredo lean cuisine during lunch break at work
"the real world" - work outfit is the ensemble worn last night drenched in fabreeze
the real world - work outfit is charcoal gray J Crew tailored suit
“the real world” - my office gets free ice cream delivered in the middle of the day
the real world - my office gets mail delivered in the middle of the day
“the real world” - wake up at 8am and drive boy sleeping in my bed back home before work
the real world - wake up at 8am and just drive to work.
As you can see, these two worlds are light years apart and it is surely going to take more than two months of summer for the phrase “happy hour” to lose its luster. Soon enough I will be handed car payments and insurance bills but until then I’m going to thank mom for paying my rent and live it up this summer, late nights and poor decisions included.
Meem and I have already begun paving our way through a memorable summer and we hope that throughout all the “shots!!”, “yeesh’s” and “I don’t want it’s" we will grow into adults fully capable of functioning in the actual real world. We've got our whole lives ahead of us to lose the quotation marks and work, get married, have a family, and grow old. Why not just slow down to smell the roses tequila? The real world will eventually find us - until then, cheers to a summer in-between! Extra lime in my vodka tonic please
Hol
The ambiguous term “the real world” was brought up by Meem earlier. We wish there was a more apt phrase we could use when describing this sloppy, peculiar stage of our lives but “the real world” will have to do. So far from what I’ve experienced, “the real world” a dream-like state of life where we are independent enough to survive on our own but blissfully live a life void of responsibilities that actually require the use of any survival skills. Besides having to remember to drink water and sleep a few hours, living in “the real world” is like that time in junior high you were required to take care of a doll for a week like it was a real baby but everyone ended up shoving it in their lockers or dropping it on the head.
For example:
“the real world,” - have margaritas during lunch break at work
the real world - have a chicken alfredo lean cuisine during lunch break at work
"the real world" - work outfit is the ensemble worn last night drenched in fabreeze
the real world - work outfit is charcoal gray J Crew tailored suit
“the real world” - my office gets free ice cream delivered in the middle of the day
the real world - my office gets mail delivered in the middle of the day
“the real world” - wake up at 8am and drive boy sleeping in my bed back home before work
the real world - wake up at 8am and just drive to work.
As you can see, these two worlds are light years apart and it is surely going to take more than two months of summer for the phrase “happy hour” to lose its luster. Soon enough I will be handed car payments and insurance bills but until then I’m going to thank mom for paying my rent and live it up this summer, late nights and poor decisions included.
Meem and I have already begun paving our way through a memorable summer and we hope that throughout all the “shots!!”, “yeesh’s” and “I don’t want it’s" we will grow into adults fully capable of functioning in the actual real world. We've got our whole lives ahead of us to lose the quotation marks and work, get married, have a family, and grow old. Why not just slow down to smell the
Hol
Thursday, July 1, 2010
What is a Summer In-Between Anyway?
Three weeks ago, The Ohio State University basically broke up with me, pleading irreconcilable differences. The complaints? My liberal arts education has basically eaten away enough of my parents money, and me not having any basically makes me more undesirable than Kirstie Alley before her Jenny Craig endorsements. Now, I sit here, four years later, trying to figure out what the hell is going on and how college went by so fast. Currently, my life resembles something out of a Desperate Housewives episode. I have far too much free time on my hands, and instead of doing anything beneficial or efficient I just complain about my life, trying to find sense in my lack of responsibility. I bake cakes for nobody in particular, lay out as though I'm training for some Jersey Shore look-alike contest, and spend far too much time contemplating what pair of spandex I should go running in.
This summer is basically my last straw, my one last taste of college life before I plunge headfirst into the real world. Although I only use this particular term due to lack of determining a more proper noun. After all, what is the real world anyway? Does this term suggest that life up to this point was not, in fact, the real world? Was my childhood, adolescence and beginning of my young adult life all just some amusement park funded by the respective bank of mom and dad? Or some psychedelic mushroom trip in a forest where natty light grows on trees and class is just a time filler in between happy hours and beer pong tournaments? I for one, am sad that this magic carpet ride has reached its final flight. There is no denying that people spend years reflecting on their college careers as the "best four years of my life," and I am scared to death to be one of them. It is this thought that makes me so terrified of what else is out there. In order to not be one of those poor souls reflecting on the glory days, I'm going to have to kick myself into high gear in order to top the amazing experience I just had at Ohio State. Not only do I feel a sense of responsibility to my parents for investing in my education, but I feel a sense of responsibility to myself. For some reason, having fun has always been at the top of my to do list. Now that the keg is running dry on my college career, I feel a sincere moral obligation to myself to continue to party. Perhaps now that the last drop of natty has been pumped, its time to switch out that keg for one of higher quality. I have been having fun my entire life, and the only thing that my OSU prenuptial gave me was a diploma, not an endowment of boredom, why would I stop now? All over this cruel world, children are forced to grow up without ever tasting the sweet intoxicant of everclear in their jungle juice and thus it is my patriotic duty to take advantage of the fact that I am free to continue my commitment to having fun.
So this brings me to the question of the hour: what now? Besides my membership to the "im not doin shit, hbu" club, this summer gives me a chance to reflect on where I really want to take my career. Up to this point I have always known exactly what I wanted in my professional life. I feel like I have not had the luxury of free time due to an ample amount of work and internships and its nice to wake up in the morning and just lounge around in my underwear for awhile. After all, when I am old and wrinkly, I will not look back and regret the fact that I didn't spend this summer in my usual pencil skirt and blouse. Instead, I will think about the fact that I could still slip into a party dress, chug a beer in mere seconds, and dance until I literally didn't remember my first name. College baby, and that is why this is my summer in-between.
Meem
This summer is basically my last straw, my one last taste of college life before I plunge headfirst into the real world. Although I only use this particular term due to lack of determining a more proper noun. After all, what is the real world anyway? Does this term suggest that life up to this point was not, in fact, the real world? Was my childhood, adolescence and beginning of my young adult life all just some amusement park funded by the respective bank of mom and dad? Or some psychedelic mushroom trip in a forest where natty light grows on trees and class is just a time filler in between happy hours and beer pong tournaments? I for one, am sad that this magic carpet ride has reached its final flight. There is no denying that people spend years reflecting on their college careers as the "best four years of my life," and I am scared to death to be one of them. It is this thought that makes me so terrified of what else is out there. In order to not be one of those poor souls reflecting on the glory days, I'm going to have to kick myself into high gear in order to top the amazing experience I just had at Ohio State. Not only do I feel a sense of responsibility to my parents for investing in my education, but I feel a sense of responsibility to myself. For some reason, having fun has always been at the top of my to do list. Now that the keg is running dry on my college career, I feel a sincere moral obligation to myself to continue to party. Perhaps now that the last drop of natty has been pumped, its time to switch out that keg for one of higher quality. I have been having fun my entire life, and the only thing that my OSU prenuptial gave me was a diploma, not an endowment of boredom, why would I stop now? All over this cruel world, children are forced to grow up without ever tasting the sweet intoxicant of everclear in their jungle juice and thus it is my patriotic duty to take advantage of the fact that I am free to continue my commitment to having fun.
So this brings me to the question of the hour: what now? Besides my membership to the "im not doin shit, hbu" club, this summer gives me a chance to reflect on where I really want to take my career. Up to this point I have always known exactly what I wanted in my professional life. I feel like I have not had the luxury of free time due to an ample amount of work and internships and its nice to wake up in the morning and just lounge around in my underwear for awhile. After all, when I am old and wrinkly, I will not look back and regret the fact that I didn't spend this summer in my usual pencil skirt and blouse. Instead, I will think about the fact that I could still slip into a party dress, chug a beer in mere seconds, and dance until I literally didn't remember my first name. College baby, and that is why this is my summer in-between.
Meem
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