Is It All Felicity's Fault?

I've been wondering why I'm still so focused on college, even a year later. I also wonder why I had always seen it as the goal, rather than just the means to an end. Part of it has to be the fact that today's culture builds up your college years the same way it does turning sixteen and other hallmarks of youth. College is billed as "the best four years of your life." Not only does that make every crappy day you have in college feel twice as bad, it makes graduation loom more darkly than it rightly should.

No one ever tells you, "Oh, I miss those first few years after college searching for a job and slogging up the corporate ladder." So not only do you find yourself without your own personal map for your life, you don't even really have that great a social script to go by. There are some shows about twenty-somethings making good, but not many. But there was at least one television show that was pivotal in creating the concept of the epic years of college: Felicity. A cerebral (read: a little bit dorky) girl goes to New York in search of a high school crush, and finds herself in the process. Sure, there was a lot of wishy-washy romance going on (and a truly bizarre time-travel storyline near the end there), but the main point was clear, four years to decide the rest of your life. Once they graduated, the show was over. Add to the fact that most young adult shows take place in high school, with college as the goal, and if they make it to college, they very rarely make it past graduation, and you have a whole set of stories that map out what everything up to college means. After that, you're on your own.

Of course, I know what to do without TV Guide telling me. But in terms of the social script, I'm improvising more than usual. And I love a script. So I'm trying to write my own, through this blog and just in my own head. JJ Abrams might not be making a show out of it (though it would be a drastic shift after the final season of Lost), but I am.

Advice to the Sarah Lawrence Class of 2014

Following SLC on Facebook and Twitter, I was asked last week to provide some advice to the newly accepted members of the class of 2014. I provided the obligatory 140-character tweet, but it got me thinking about all the things that don't quite fit into that. And so I want to share them now, while indulging in a little nostalgia.

1. Take a chance on an over-registered class. Is there a great course taught by one of the institutions at SLC? You know, one where every interview is tripled up and everyone seems to have it as their first choice? Go for it. There are 15 spots, and the chance that you will get one of them is just as high as it is for anyone else. Why not put yourself out there to take a class with one of the greats; what's the worst that could happen?

2. Well, the worst that could happen is that you get bumped. Getting bumped is not the end of the world, even though it might feel like it at two in the morning when you check MySLC, see that you only have two classes and realize you won't be spending Saturday morning sleeping in and enjoying brunch, but running around campus doing more interviews. Thoughts flash before your eyes, of truly boring classes, something you would never want to take, with books you can't even understand and a teacher who hates you. You see your entire year go up in smoke, from potential amazingness to certain doom.

Snap out of it! It's not the end of the world. I've been bumped from a "rock star" class, and I ended up registering for what turned out to be my favorite class. There are plenty of classes out there, and chances are that alternate registration is going to show you some great options you didn't even notice the first time around.

3. Don't return your books at the end of the semester/year. There are books I tossed aside that I wish I still had. After staying up until the wee hours trying to read just enough to get by, you might hate the sight of it, but that book might be worth a second read one day, or it might just be worth the sentimental value.

If you are absolutely sure you aren't going to want a book, at least don't return it at the campus bookstore. Sure, it's convenient, but it wears away at your soul to buy books for hundreds of dollars, only to return them for a few quarters each, knowing that next semester, someone will be paying another few hundred dollars for them (I am not exaggerating). You are better off going to eBay or another website designed to exchange books between students. Also, chances are your class will be offered again, and if you wait until that happens, you can get a lot more for your used copy because there will be people with an immediate need for it.

4. Go to the on-campus events. It's all to easy to fall into the apathetic mode of the Sarah Lawrence bubble, lock yourself up in your dorm and ignore the great shows and other events going on all around you. The theater department does some great things, and the dances are a fun way to blow off steam. The same reasoning goes for joining clubs and being generally involved in the community. Don't be a hermit, because four years goes by in a flash, and you're going to wish you went to some of these crazy things. One of my favorites was the song night in spring, where a particular class has spent the semester preparing a show of pop songs, performed cabaret-style. Look out for that one.

5. Get out! There's plenty to do one campus, but there's exponentially more to do in New York City (well, duh). When you're coming from states away, half an hour by train seems like nothing. But when you're actually on campus, it seems like such a hassle sometimes. Take advantage of the Met van that runs between campus at the Metropolitan museum over the weekends as often as you can, and explore the coolest city around. Not every weekend, but don't go too long without doing something fun.

6. Having a crazy-stressful conference week is a tradition you don't need to follow. It's common knowledge that once the library goes into 24/7 mode, that's when things start getting insane, and as the end of the semester gets closer, it only gets worse. People will go for days without sleep, plowing away on three conference papers all due the next morning. They are fueled only by stress and greasy Pub food. This affliction, though common, is avoidable. Here's how: planning.

My personal plan of attack was always to count up the number of pages I was going to need to write, add at least 7, and then that number of days before the due date, I would start writing a page a day. Simple. So when you've got two 15-20 page conferences, you start about six weeks out. It lets you take tiny nibbles at your work, and though 20 pages is intimidating, one is easy. Just take one idea, one source at a time and work through it. Some days you can do more than one page, but as long as you get just one, you'll be all set. And with those extra 7 days you have a week to edit. You could even send the professor some of your draft to make sure you're on track, knowing you have room to change it.

This routine served me well for each and every conference paper I completed. And while I did miss out on the midnight library experience, I was able to enjoy midnight breakfast a lot more than those who were rushing french toast before returning to their books.

7. Just enjoy it. If you've read this blog before, you know I am suffering from serious post-grad separation anxiety. I would love to do all four years all over again, but I can't. You, the newly accepted class of 2014, are the ones with all that time, all those classes and all those experiences ahead of you. Know that you are one of the lucky ones, and know that I am supremely jealous.

Also, live in the old dorms at least once, and explore your study abroad options, even if you end up staying in Bronxville for every semester.

Unpaid Internships are Evil, the New York Times Said So!

I read an interesting article in the New York Times that talked about unpaid internships, and I got yet another glimpse into the abyss that is the current entry-level job market. The number of unpaid internships is sky-rocketing, and some of them are just plain illegal. It seems that because students are so desperate for experience that can bolster their resume, they are taking jobs which should be paid and thanking their employers for giving them squat. That, in turn, probably lessens the overall number of entry-level positions available when they graduate, because why pay someone when you can get a whole new batch of freshman next semester?

I also learned a few things. Did you know that internships are supposed to be about benefitting the intern, not the employer? That's kind of the main idea. The majority of your time spent should be in educational tasks, shadowing and learning from people whose jobs match up with your future goals. The cliche of the coffee-fetching intern is actually illegal if that person is unpaid. More disturbing is the fact that apparently, because interns aren't technically employees, they aren't protected under certain laws, leaving them vulnerable to discrimination and sexual harassment with no way to seek help.

Sometimes things just look freaking bleak. The fact that we're continually willing to let younger people suffer through the ritual of the bottom rungs of the corporate ladder, to me speaks to a horrible masochism. It's this groupthink of, "We had to go through these terrible trials, they should too." Except it's getting to the point where the things my parents would have to do are what I should have done in high school, and their first jobs are today's unpaid college internships. And doing those things isn't a guarantee of the position you want when you graduate. It's just the least you can do to hope to be in the running. Because now you're competing with people who were laid off with five years experience. It's like fraternity hazing gone extreme.

But eventually you have to think we're all going to get through it. I just hope that I'm never jaded enough to be willing to save money by underpaying an intern who deserves more. Break the cycle? Yes we can.

This indignant and depressing blog post brought to you by Friday nights.

Getting Spellbound, or: A Late Night Blog Post

Just finished watching the 2002 documentary 'Spellbound', and decided to wax a little nostalgic.

I doubt there are many of you who have never been part of a spelling bee. I remember one at school when I was in 4th grade. I don't remember any of the words I spelled correctly, but I'm sure I made it through a few rounds. In a cruel twist of fate that is likely the rule for most, I remember the one word which tripped me up: cafeteria. It's the only moment I can remember perfectly. I just remember standing in front of the microphone and hearing a ding. It's not emotional at all; I don't remember the feeling of losing. It is literally just the sensory memory of that moment. And the word.

I also remember the next year, telling my teacher in front of the class that one word I could definitely spell was cafeteria. I'm not sure why, I think we were talking about spelling bees for some reason or other and a few of us were in front of the class as an example of how it worked. My teacher asked me to spell a word, and I offered cafeteria, saying that because I mis-spelled it last year I would always know it. Of course, I instantly felt the panic of how awful it would be to then incorrectly spell this word for the second time, this time after having promised I knew it.

Thankfully, I got it right that time.

It's funny the things you remember. It's also funny the things you think of when watching these kinds of things. Because, almost without fail, whenever I see anything dramatic which has to do with kids, anyone younger than a junior or senior in high school, I instantly think, "Well, that's going to make a good college applications essay." Everything. From this documentary about studying and stressing out to a degree which cannot be healthy for a twelve year old, to watching crime dramas where a kid makes it through safe and sound. It's a little weird, but watching an episode of 'Criminal Minds' about kids who are kidnapped and kept for years, when they were finally rescued I thought, "He could get into any college he wants with that story." Isn't that a sick tribute to how desensitized I am to violence? It's also a testimony to just how college-centric my life has always been. Everything is about getting to that one point. Might be why I'm missing it so much now.

So this is what you get when you watch a movie and write a blog post on the fly. Some memories, some disturbing insights, and yet another woe-is-me post-grad moment. Good night and good luck.

Oh, that's right. I went there.

My Fellow Writers

I know that a majority of the content here is about the trials and tribulations of being thrust into the real world after college (otherwise known as me whining), but I just wanted to take a moment to put something positive out there. This isn't just for writers, though, this really goes out to everyone right now who might be feeling a little unsure about what they're doing right now and whether it's worth it.

There's a lot I would give to be fully employed right now, and some things I'd change if I had the chance to go back in time. But something I would never change, for any job, is what I am, and that's a writer. I've been a writer since I was three, scribbling lines across paper because I didn't know real words. And when I finally learned to master the alphabet, I was writing poems on pink paper. I remember one in particular which rhymed 'fun' with 'hot dog bun.' Hey, you work with what you know.

I was always creating stories, and I was always writing something down. From music video treatments to haikus (which you'll get a sampling of soon), words are sacred to me, and putting them together the right way is something I treasure. In the middle of the Texan suburbs, where saying you are agnostic (unsure of God) was practically a scarlet letter among my conservative peers, I prayed more than once using Shakespeare's sonnets.

I know that being an engineer or an accountant might make finding a job easier and mean a higher salary, but it's not my calling. My father knew he wanted to be an engineer since he was a kid taking things apart and putting them back together. He was lucky that his choice happened to be something very obviously valuable in the job market and connected to a perfectly drawn path. But 'word-lover' isn't something I can put in my passport. For most of my life I've been fighting two opposing forces: the passion driving me to words, and the guilt of my practicality telling me to find something solid and dependable. My college was expensive, but it was what I wanted so, so badly. More importantly, it was what I needed to be the writer I am. I can wish it wasn't such a financial burden, but I can't apologize for it being the best school for me.

Just because not everyone understands the value of being a writer, and how much they need people like me, doesn't mean I've chosen a useless profession. I did not get a Bachelor's degree in 'Do you want fries with that?' No matter what people may tell you, or what their faces may convey as you explain to them what you're doing, you need to know that it's worth it to pursue what you were made to do. Even just this blog, which has made me a grand total of 50¢, has given me so much more because I'm writing. And people are reading. Blogs, articles, website copywriting, it's all part of being a writer, just like those Shakepeare prayers and childhood rhymes.

I am what I am. I can't change it. I would never want to.

Refilling the Nest

Here's the way life is supposed to go: You're born. You learn to crawl, walk, talk a play dollies. You go to school everyday for the next twelve years until you graduate from high school. Then you go to college, and after four years there you graduate with an entry-level job all lined up. This marks the beginning of your truly adult life. If you didn't when you started college, you move all your stuff out of your parent's house and you find a place of your own.

Unless, of course, you graduate without a job and can't afford a place of your own otherwise. Then you move back in with your parents (if they let you), and you find yourself in limbo. You're in your twenties, you should be an adult, but you sleep in your childhood bed, surrounded by the stuffed animals you used to require. You can redecorate and pack up everything you don't need (sorry, Teddy), but the fact still remains, you are living at home.

Of course living rent-free (or at the family rate) has it's advantages, but there's only so long you can do this before you start to feel like a 30-something comic book collector who speaks Klingon and lives in their mother's basement (not that there's anything wrong with that). What exactly is the deadline? I used to think I would only be home long enough to apartment or house hunt and get everything organized. Now I'm entering my third month, and I'm nowhere near a the real estate phase of my life. I asked a few friends before graduation what my acceptable home-living limit was. I was given a year or two. Am I really an adult if I live at home?

Another factor which should not be underestimated is the tension of finding yourself once more under your parent's roof. No matter how much you love each other, or how PG your life is, your parents never expected you back and you wish you had your own place to call your own. It stunts your growth, or at least it feels that way. You feel like you're a mature adult, but you look in the mirror and see the same teenager that went off to college. And how far have you really come? It's hard to believe that you are in fact a different person with a wealth experiences who would probably go through high school much differently now (but please, God, don't make me prove it).

So what can we do when we chicks must return to the nest? Do the dishes and the laundry, be grateful your parents still want you, and live in hope. And maybe avoid the Star Trek reruns, just to be safe.