And the panic attacks ensue. I had one a couple weeks ago at midnight. The thought process went something like this:
I’m a senior. Whoa.
I’m graduating in May.
Wait, how many months is that? (counts on fingers)
And my lease is up at the end of May.
And I probably won’t have a job. Or any prospects.
Oh. My. God. What am I doing with my life?
Oh. My. F—ing. God. What if I have to move back to Las Vegas? With my parents?
Like most other twenty-something college students, I have no idea where my life is going. It’s a scary thought to think that I’ll be done with school, and then I won’t have anywhere to go.
My brain makes random decisions on what I should do. Some of them are logical, like moving back in with my parents until I land something, or applying for a billion internships to put the panic to rest for a few months.
Others include applying for the NBC page program, USC film school, NYU musical theater writing program…essentially, getting myself out of the journalism field for a while.
And still another idea is to just pick up and move to a random city, or to continue my tour of East Coast cities to decide which one I want to live in the most.
But when I shut my brain up for a second, I remember that I’ve still got nine months. I still have places to see, things to do, goal to accomplish in that short period. Like developing a multimedia foundation at Insight Magazine. Or taking snowboarding lessons up at Tahoe. Or experiencing as much as I can of the Biggest Little City before I have to leave.
And so it goes. And so it begins.