There Will Be an Answer, Let it Be

Paul offers some advice that is something to take note of right now. I'm stressing about the future already - of course, I'm very good at worrying and stressing out about the future. Financial questions are always present, sometimes flitting in the background and sometimes with their full whine in my ear like the relevant pests they are. They're compounded by a more emotional issue, my parents' divorce, which is always fun to deal with.

Still, though, my mind is blessed with the ability to always remind me of what I do have - a brand new college degree, a job that pays astonishingly well where I work with people I like. A healthy body and the ability to bike 14 miles (yeah, that's right, I did that). A comfortable home with no time limit except the one I impose on myself. And a future of possiblities. There will be an answer, Zoe, just relax and let it be...

The End of an Era

It has come to the end of my years as a college student. Or, more accurately (as I am reminded daily by our struggling job market and rising qualification expectations), as an undergraduate experience.

As usual, I didn't actually commit my life to blog history, and I'm sure all of you are suffering greatly for that. To sum up the last few months - school is idiotic, it does not prepare you for the actual skills needed to land a job. Even if that job relates to what you're studying. Newsflash, narcissistic professor: interesting, exciting job opportunities and their employers don't care if I know the definition of historical materialism. They care about whether I have organized an event, asked someone for a donation, or worked with Excel.

So shut up.

And now you will, because I wipe my hands of you.

And yet, at the same time, I can already feel the wistful look back towards those years, when I lived in a world of hastily written papers, test frustration (okay, not really - tests are the easy part for me), and a relatively carefree life. Health insurance? College AND parents covering it. Living? Taken care of. Money? I'm in school, I don't deal with that.

And even though the classes were largely useless and time-consuming, I was used to them. I knew what to expect, and I was good at it.

That is what is both exciting and frightening about the future. I get to explore further - I get to burst beyond the veil that school holds in front of the real world and find out what real people, not professors, are doing. How government, policy, non-profits, people, towns, everything works. What really goes on. But at the same time, I am out of my element. An overnight (yet written well enough to merit an A) paper will not be the answer, and it will not protect me from the pressing questions of money, health insurance, and the like.

Still, the possibilities are many and I look forward to the unknown in a way I haven't before. Oh future! How you tease me so. Well, to end on a cheesy note, I look forward to meeting you and making the most out of the time I have.

Newsflash: surging senioritis.

Yes, folks, it can return in college. Senioritis, the scourge of homework and the sense of responsibility. Grades tumble. Deadlines pass without notice. Planners attract dust, thrown in a corner as they are. This concerning disease affects both high school and college seniors, and being one of those (thank god the latter), I am concerned.

For the first time since I can remember, I have missed a homework assignment. Not one, but two. TWO. In my defense, I did them but only forgot to send them via email. Does that make my forgetfulness better, or worse?

The obligation to go to class five days a week, once both normal and welcomed, is now very lamentable. If only I could sit at home, work on arts and crafts while watching bad tv and baking bread. Vacuuming when I want to (well, that's never). Walking. Running. No notes, no busywork, no meaningful work.

But alas! I must continue. The constant trudge. As I write this I feel sheepish complaining about my cushy life as a rich, happy, and healthy girl living in one of the most picture-perfect city streets of an infant city. Untroubled by money or real academic struggle, I can still submit a whole blog post on my sheer unwillingness to devote some amount of time to the only real commitment I have...

Oh whatever.

Oh Freddy.

I have come to love Fred Meyer. At first I grumbled at my grocery store choices, opting for the more chic TJ's, with its loud individuality and attractive shoppers. But over time I realized that behind the "average" supermarket appearance of Freddy's is a trove of hidden treasures nestled throughout a room so big, the first I time I entered it I couldn't help but stop and stare around me.

Perhaps the best part is the bulk food bins, which I can't imagine living without now. Say goodbye to the days of pre-packaged chocolate chips, spices, and baking needs. Cereal? Ha! How about a bag of the cheapest granola? I commune with like minds, them dressed in yoga pants and, no doubt, bamboo-fabric shirts (why must I always make fun of those kinds of people?)

And so I have fallen ever deeper in love with the bulk-food charm that is Freddy's, and also its quirks. My favorite aisle signs are "Gelatin" (a category in itself, apparently!) and "New Age Beverages". I'm not sure where to find honey, or rice vinegar, but thank god I can always find the jello and...other gelatin products. Do any drink companies actually market themselves as new age? I haven't pursued these further, as I tend to wander enough aisles staring at food already, but perhaps I will soon.