Graduation Blues

The other afternoon I officially applied to walk during Slippery Rock University’s commencement ceremony. As of yesterday, I  became a soon-to-be college graduate. The idea is scaring me shitless. Well, maybe that’s just the new habit of morning coffee.

What’s scary isn’t the ‘real world’ or the independent life that presents itself; it’s the anxiety directly rooted in uncertainty. Uncertainty in what I want to do and in what I’m going to be able to do

Recently, my degree and aspirations have been gradually growing distant. The fact that I may be preparing for a life that will make me unhappy is becoming a pressing issue for my bowel movements.

After a few performances and a new connection to the theater department, I’ve been thinking more and more about becoming a performer and writer. I’ve been spending my free time thinking of blog posts or personal essay topics. I make time to read other authors critically and perfect my ukulele chords.

I value my education and believe learning about communication has made me a better person and offered a chance to mature. I’ve grown from a sad, awkward teenager to a potential adult, slowly making a path in life. But I believe I won’t be satisfied until I’ve exhausted all of the options

The most damaging aspect is the internal conflict. I was raised by smart, hardworking, republican families who stressed the importance of security and a strong work ethic. The voice of my father is in my head reminding me to find a good job and start a savings account, but I still find the need to move to a big city and try to become a jazz singer. Every time I think about just picking up and going, I hear his voice and instantly feel a rush of guilt all over. I blame my tenacious fear of authority figures and need to follow the rules.

On the other hand, our mainstream culture is piling up with women who worked hard and found a way to create a profit from self-expression. I have rooted my motivation to keep it together (said in the manner of Kit Ramsey) in idolizing relatively successful feminist who put it all out there. Mindy Kaling, Lena Dunham, and Carrie Bradshaw prototypes all get me up in the morning. So if I don’t attempt to walk in their footsteps, what kind of woman would I be?

I guess I should take my own advice. Whenever my friends express that feeling of uncertainty, the “what should I do” moment, I always tell them that most people already know their solution. Most people know what they need to do, what they should do, and what they want to do. They just ask others to confirm that it’s the right choice. So in my head I know what I should do. But I’m just looking for that confirmation.

Cheers,

Chloe

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