After incessantly writing for one whole week, after going down to the senior beach week in South Carolina and coming back from it, after walking the graduation, and eventually upon moving out of the much loved room at the northern end of the Eco-House, I came to accept one thing: I. Have. Graduated.
Piecemeal, incremental changes, like diving through thinly-defined layers. And I have reached the end of it. For what, you ask?
My immediate future is made up of some part-time job and a scrawly little apartment. Oh, that is not all if you are counting the seven boxes that I have fit my life into and two of them are filled with books. Technically, this current state fits the formal definitions of both homelessness and unemployment. And just like that, from the moment I switched my tassel from right to left, I have ceased to be a privileged student from a prestigious institution and become just anyone in New York. Yes, I am just about to pack up and leave for New York City.
But fear not. There is no need to be so bitter. If there’s the most suitable and fitting point and time in life to be homeless and unemployed, I believe it is in your early twenties. And I am not alone in this. I was surprised – and selfishly relieved – to learn that cum laudes and even Belk scholars have no plans yet. This is also not the first time we have walked out of our comfort zones, or have been left without knowing what future holds. But this time, there just seems to be so much more responsibility for our free decisions and errors. Not knowing is also a rite of passage. Class of 2011, good luck.