Growing Up

I decided to write this after the fact, when I'm not in the heat of the moment, because I'm usually more coherent and understandable when I do it that way.

Anyway, here's what happened. I freaked out last night about growing up. Really - I freaked out. Me. Mister I -Have-It-All-Figured-Out-And-Don't-Worry- About-Anything-To-Do-With My-Future, freaked out. I don't think you understand the magnitude we're dealing with here. This last August, I didn't have anywhere to live for the fall (and was getting kicked out of my apartment in a couple weeks) and didn't yet have an internship secured for that semester, which was starting in September. Wait - no - not hadn't secured one yet - hadn't even started looking for one yet. Did I care? Was I worried? Nope. I was as cool as a cucumber. And I got an internship and picked an apartment complex in the space of about a week or so. Piece of cake.

But here's what's happened. I graduated. My parents told me long ago, graduation would be the cut-off point for assistance (luckily they're giving me a loan for the time being). Now I have a rent payment, a car payment, a cell phone payment, and the need for the basic necessities of life every month, but no money coming in with which to pay for said expenses. So I'm in debt for the first time in my life (to my parents, but still), and I have no job and no current prospects for one. I've applied for several this week, but of course nothing so far.

Oh, and to top it all off, I'm sick again. It seems like this happens right before I head back for Utah. If it has to happen, couldn't it happen at the beginning of break when my mom could take care of me? Lame.

After years of expensive education,
a car full of books and anticipation,
I’m an expert on Shakespeare and that’s a hell of a lot,
but the world don't need scholars as much as I thought.
-Jamie Cullum, "Twentysomething"