This post should really just be that Vitamin C music video. Except less angsty and more about how the eff I'm going to make money without prostituting myself.

Sometime in the last three months I forgot that I had a blog. Alright, I don't know if I actually forgot, but once again I meant to blog...and then I just never did...and then I meant to...and then I never did...and the cycle continued. Well, until right now.

I am currently sitting in my old childhood room. It's weird. I've sat in this exact spot probably thousands of times over the years. I've looked at these four walls, and that picture hanging on the wall, and the slightly broken closet door so many times that I always thought coming back would feel just like it always has. But, it doesn't. I'm home, but it doesn't feel like home. While there's always something comforting about your childhood house, this is the first time that being here almost feels wrong. This isn't the home that I created for myself. This isn't the room that I really think of as mine now.

Let me back up.

A week ago today, the inevitable happened and I graduated from college. If you recall, my last post proclaimed that I still had 3 months and some odd days. I'm jealous of the girl that wrote that post. Little did she really, truly know how things would change, how fast time would go, and how complicated life could get in such a short amount of time. Anyway, I've moved back into my parents' house for the summer while I "figure things out."

So, here I sit, staring at the few remaining glow-in-the-dark stars I stuck to my ceiling when I was in the sixth grade, trying to formulate a plan. A plan that is realistic and achievable, yet adventurous and bold. Everyone says you figure out things in due time. Well, I had hoped that "due time" would have happened by now but, hey, we're all just winging it.

Here's what I know. I'm interning as a campaign manager for a man in my town who is running for mayor. I'm sadly not getting paid, but I get the fancy job title and resume boost and will hopefully be able to make some good contacts and gain some awesome experience. But, I also need to make money because girlfriend's got bills to pay and needs to save everything possible so I can have more than $30 in my bank account and actually have the means to move out of my parents' house.

What I don't know is how I'm going to make said money. Or how long it will take me to save up enough to move. Or where, in fact, I'll move to. Or what job I'll be doing when I get there. This, I suppose, is what I'm supposed to be "figuring out."

I'm all about keeping my options open, but my OCD needs something to work with here. Therefore, my plan to make-a-plan-that-figures-out-how-I-will-make-money-and-how-much-money-I-need-to-get-out-of-my-parents-house-into-a-place-that-isn't-a-cardboard-box-and-how-to-support-myself-once-I'm-there is officially underway.  

Challenge accepted.

If I had time to actually stop and think about this, I'd totally be freaking out.

Today, I woke up and realized that I graduate in 3 months and 4 days. Um, maybe I should start figuring out my life so that I don't end up at home living with my parents until I'm 35. Not that they'd actually let me do that anyway...

Also, I'm sleep deprived because I'm taking way too many classes and finals are next week and I just got back from being super belligerent at Mardi Gras in New Orleans. I swear I'm not still drunk.

I think.

I better not be jinxing myself

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I tend to avoid relationship talk like the plague.

Normally, commitment makes me kind of queasy. In the past, I've regretted letting certain opportunities pass by. Well, a certain opportunity that was tall and boy shaped. After that saga, I became a half-breed commitment phobe and lioness on the prowl.

Trust me, it's an awkward combination.

The indecisiveness got tiring after awhile, though, and I couldn't help but feeling like an emotionally stunted half-person. So, I made a promise to myself that I was going to try things a little differently: I was going to start giving people chances.

Revolutionary, right?

And the thing is, it actually kind of has been. The first week back to school this quarter I met a guy. I must admit that at the time, however, I could have totally let it be a one night type of deal. But something strange happened. He asked for my number and he actually used it. As in he actually asked me to hang out two days later. Sober, I might add. In college, that's practically like marriage.

Even better is that I wasn't completely freaked out, and I actually went. He's cute and nice and tall and cleans his room. And he bought me candy once. And even though he just got out of a relationship, I'm trying not to psych myself out because I do think that he actually likes me. At least I'm hoping because we've been doing this weird hook-up, spending the night together, hand holding in public thing for four weeks now.

As of late things have slowed down a bit, but I think there's potential. I'm trying to not to over analyze every text that isn't responded to or read into every time he kisses my forehead. But things are going. And I like it.

It's all happening.

A while back I posted about my interest in Teach For America and how I was officially submitting my application. Well, on Wednesday I have an official, non-official interview chat with the TFA recruiter in my region.

Through my work as Vice President of a totally awesome honors co-ed fraternity (Don't laugh, it's not as geeky as it sounds. I promise), I've come to work with said recruiter putting on an event this quarter. Before I told her that I was actually applying for Teach For America, we sought out the help of my organization to help her flyer and spread the word about the final deadline to submit your application for TFA.

When I told her that I am applying, she was quick to suggest setting up a phone date to talk about the application process, how I was doing with it, etc. I'm super pumped to get an insiders perspective and advice on the whole endeavor, and hopefully I'll get some good tips on how ace the application and interviews (if I get that far!).

Or maybe she can just put in a good word for me. Maybe she can just hire me then and there. Can they do that? I really don't think they can but weirder things have happened, right? This girl I work with got an internship by serving some dude a cheeseburger at our local diner. No joke.

Keep your fingers crossed that I don't accidentally cuss at the nice recruitment lady. And that I remember to charge my phone.

I'm a hot mess right now and might be high on NyQuil

I may have mentioned that I was sick over New Years and how it sucked. Well for two whole weeks I felt So! Much! Better! Until yesterday when I came down with a fever and nasty cough.

I'm normally a healthy person. I take my vitamins and drink tea at the first sign of a sore throat, but the last few winters I have been a walking sickness infested mess. Maybe this is a college, down immune system thing. Whatever it is though, I hope I get over real quick.

I hope everyone else is feeling okay!

Happiness is a warm gun. Although, I never really ever understood that expression. Or lyrics. Whatever.

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Who knew that hard work actually pays off?

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Back in my sophomore year of college I took Philosophy 101, and I wasn't particularly excited about it.

It was the first time I experienced a 400 person lecture class, and instead of being overwhelmed, I was surprisingly comforted in being just another face in a sea of students. I liked the anonymity, the fact that I didn't have to worry about the professor picking me out. And more importantly, that I didn't have to prepare for a discussion. I showed up for the two hour class period, I got absorbed in the lecture and scribbling down notes, and I left. Simple.

The book, on the other hand, was not simple. It was a 900 page monstrosity that my professor insisted we bring to class every day, and right off the bat I considered myself above actually reading any of it. For the first exam, I thought I was golden. I had been familiar with some of the readings we were assigned, I never missed a class, I took notes and paid attention. And it was multiple choice!

As you might have guessed, I failed. Miserably. It was my first college F, and the first test I failed since the seventh grade in Advanced Algebra II. It was also a wake up call.

In high school I was always told that college was hard. College freshman would come back to the high school to visit old teachers, and would regal us with their knew college wisdom: the tests were hard, and now they had to study. I was half terrified, and half humored.

And then I started college and was surprised that I didn't find things to be that much different than high school. Yes, now there was more responsibility, more reading, more assignments. But I was used to studying and being dedicated. And then came Philosophy 101.

After that first test I realized that  half-assing it wasn't really working. So, I broke down and I decided to put in some honest effort. I actually read what we were assigned, recopied my notes to help me remember and make more sense of he material, and didn't wait until the last minute to review.

On the day that we received our second tests back, my professor called us in groups according to last name to the front. As I waited for my grade, I thought about what I would do if the grade was bad. Would I give up and just claim that Philosophy wasn't my thing and I was never going to get it? Could I accept that my honest best just wasn't as good as I wanted it to be?

But, I didn't get a bad grade. It turns out that I missed two questions and got an A. When my professor handed me my test he smiled and said that out of all 400 people, I had the highest grade. The feeling I had at that moment was such a rush. I loved that I had put in hard work and it had paid off.

Whenever I get discouraged I try to think back to that moment; how it felt to accomplish something that I worked so hard for. And it helps me to remember that life isn't easy, but with a little effort, a new attitude, and some hard work, there's nothing that we can't do.