This post has been in the works
for a while. You could even say it's been in the works for five years. Five long-but-oh-so-short years of my degree. Five years of sore shoulders, five years of smudged nail polish, five years of bad coffee and burnt noses. Five years of studying in the nooks and crannies of old forgotten buildings on campus, five years of running for the bus, five years of making friends with girls who had designer handbags in lectures (there are worse things, right?). When I sat back to think about it, and I mean really think about it, recently, I worked out that this is the first time since I was four (four!!!!) that I haven't been studying. I started school at four, I moved through junior to high until I was eighteen, I went straight into university without a gap year. The result has been eighteen continuous years of education. So really, you could say this post has been in the works for
eighteen years. Eighteen long-but-oh-so-short years.
Saying that my education is over would not be strictly true, it would be like saying that no-one could possibly learn outside the classroom, and we all know that to be false. But this is the end of formal education, or at least it is from where I stand right now, and even if I start studying later (I feel like my life is peppered with 'even ifs' at the moment) it's going to be different. Right now I feel this odd sensation of rudderlessness, combined with the lingering thrill of the adrenaline rush I was running on all of last week after handing in my thesis, the ever-present fear of the future only compounded by the dreaded '
and what are you going to do next?' question, and the dull thud of exhaustion pulsating in the background. I spent all of last week catching up on my sleep debt, cooking lunch for my mum and reading. Unsurprisingly, I still feel like a student. I wonder when that feeling goes away? When you get a job? When your life starts to come together? And when is that going to happen, hmmm?
What can I say. I have just finished five years of university and come out on the other side unscathed, but also resolutely unemployed. I studied journalism and spent most of my degree sure in the knowledge that that was what I wanted to do, but now I'm not so sure, or at least I'm not so sure that the traditional, tried-and-tested way I wanted to go about it is the best way. I'm going away to America for a bit and that will take care of some of my anxiety and idleness, but there is still that worry, that nagging fear, that concern about
what is going to happen when I come back, and after that after that, every day for the rest of your life. It's not supposed to be easy, I know that. It wouldn't be called 'life' if it was supposed to be a walk in the park. So yes, I am scared. Or to be more correct, I'm nervous. But, for me,
nervousness has always walked hand in hand with excitement. How do you know if the butterflies in your stomach are floundering or flying? I wish I had an answer for people - and for myself - better than 'I have no idea' but I've always thought honesty was the best policy. I don't have a grand master plan. Sometimes I wish that I did. But the rest of the time I realise that not having a grand master plan is actually a blessing in disguise. I didn't go through eighteen long-but-oh-so-short years of education to jump headfirst into the next long-but-oh-so-short phase of the rest of my life. So here's to the future - my future! - in whatever form it takes, and no matter how long it takes for me to get there. I've got time. In fact, I've got a lot of it. I've got every day for the rest of my life. And that's scary, yes, but my god, isn't that exciting!
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