Senior Year

I remember my senior year of high school. It was full of adults telling me that my life was over and now the real world was approaching. I always thought, "Well what the hell have I been living in if this isn't the real world?". I never got that question answered. I just assumed that they meant the real world was the scary part of my life that began as soon as I threw up my cap and ate my last off the college cookout hotdog. College was made to be this scary place in which you write papers and have lectures. Professors dress in tweed and point you out to answer questions in a hall of 450 students. Your paper is 43 pages and a new one is due every class. You're going to fail the first semester because the stress and toga parties are going to kill your soul.

Ummm.....no. Not what happened. So here I am again. Another senior year and here's that damn "real world" shit again. Only this time, I'm actually scared of what happens when I throw up this cap and drink my last goodbye undergrad colored beverage. Am I prepared to go to grad school? Well at least I think I am, minus the fact that I have yet to schedule my GRE test date. [procrastination] Also, I haven't buffered myself with a bunch of schools to choose from. I'm a little more picky this time. That's what I tell myself to make a smile appear and feel that inner child pat me on the back.

[Cuts a glance at my professor who is lecturing] There are sppooookky things that lurk in the future. Loans to repay, apartments to rent, steady jobs to maintain...lions, and tigers, and bears..Oh SHIT!!!. [LOL] To be honest I blame all the older people of the world. I blame you for making us younger people feel as though you had it so hard and we have it so easy, then flipping it on us and when we come of age with you little smirk. That "Ha!" smirk and your little condescending, "Welcome to the real world..." or "That's life".

You made us feel safe and like things were a cake walk...then you snatched all away and threw in your real world.

But that's fine I'm no longer scared because I just realized that after grad school my salary will allow me to place all of you in a home. You'll crotchet things and make cooky crafts. The highlight of your week will be bingo night or a themed dance. When I come to visit, you'll look at me and tell me of your boring existence there. I'll smirk and reply, "Welcome to the real world."

LMAO...I'm ready to graduate

'Til next time