If I had a dollar for every time someone has asked me “what’s next?” in the context of this here recent graduation, I wouldn’t have to find a job overseas.
I’d just go.
OK. I’m exaggerating. More like I would use it to pay my phone bill.
OK OK. Total transparency: I’d buy an outfit from Target. And some coconut water. Which is totally still like being asked between 30 and 40 times, which basically feels like 4000.
Truth is, I’m scared.
Funny thing is, I’m not scared of not getting a job. I’m not scared of entering second adolescence, of moving back in with mama, of depending on her to borrow her car. Apprehensive? Youbetcha. But scared….not so much.
Not of that.
But I am scared.
I tried “being graduated” already. It….was a mindfuck.
And I went back to school.
And I’m used to school, and I understand school, and school kept me busy, and busy Bryoney = happy Bryoney.
In about two weeks I’ll be jobless and all moved out, and then there will be 24 things terrorizing me every day. They’re called hours, and they will be long and empty and they will take their sweet time dragging themselves along the kitchen floor of my life, leaving claw marks in the floorboards of my mind.
What am I supposed to do with no job? No school?
This semester, I worked 30 hours, worked as a special programs coordinator, did my practicum (student teaching), took a class, and did Orals.
Then I graduated.
Then I moved.
I like to joke and say I’d like to get the bags under my eyes reduced to at least half an inch and, well, this is not really a joke, but say I just go hard in the motherfuckin paint and sleep 9 hours a night for a month and I look fabulous and restored at the end of it.
What am I supposed to do with the other 15 hours of my day?
So far I’ve got paint, sew, cook and yoga.
I’m the type of person who can invent her own misery by overthinking.
Already I’m thinking this is going to make me incredibly lonely and acutely aware of my singleness.
It hasn’t even STARTED yet.