Harsh Realities Faced On Your First Day of Senior Year

I just started my senior year of classes.

Oh my god.

When did this happen?

I’m not so sure. But after being on campus for nearly 20 minutes a ton of harsh realities sucker punched me square in the face:

  • This is legitimately my last first day of school. Unless I go to grad school, in which case, I’m still going to send my mom a picture of my first day of school outfit.
  • I don’t know anyone on campus. You’d think because I’m going on four years, I may have accrued a few friends or acquaintances, but no. Nope. I look around and I see all these fresh-faced youths and I feel like the crypt keeper.
  • My sense of “I care so much about this!” has severely dwindled. I went to the library between two classes to take a nap.
  • It’s only syllabus week. I have not had a single class that has lasted its entire duration. One of them got out in 45 minutes, another in 30 and another in 20. I actually have no idea what my full class load is going to feel like and I am terrified. If I’m already cat-napping in the study room, how the F*CK am I going to make a five class-a-day schedule all the way through?
  • I keep saying things like: “Remember freshman year when…” and “Back when I lived on campus…”
  • After traveling the world for more than half of the year, going back to school is more mundane than having a chocolate tootsie pop. I just don’t want it. I should be waking up in London at noon. Not Philadelphia at 8 AM.
  • I don’t even own a notebook.
  • My rent, cable, water, gas and electric bills all seem vastly more important than buying that book for class. Although I would love to read all about entrepreneurship and world philosophies, I also really want to catch up on Game of Thrones, so…
  • I have approximately 15 months until I have to start paying back my student loans.
  • I haven’t even thought about applying for my loan to cover this year.
  • I have to be a real, full time, no-nonsense adult, super soon. The age of d*cking around and kicking rocks is quickly reaching its end and I have absolutely no idea at what else I’m good at doing.

Someone, anyone, send help.


Last Call

Hi, it’s me, and I’m complaining about something… Again.

Are we really all that surprised? But today I’ve come to complain about something that I can argue both ways because I have been on both sides, and I guarantee, you have too.

Being in a restaurant or store or location of some sort that is close to closing time:

I am a constant late-night shopper. I just find it easier because the stores are less crowded and I feel less pressure to rush to get in line.

On the side of being that person: Okay, hello, don’t be rude to me. Your sign says that you are open until 11 o’ clock. It is barely scratching the surface of 10:15. My money is just as good as the people who came in at 6:30, so what is the big deal? A sale is a sale. If you want to be mad at anyone, be mad at the person who made the sign outside that says the hours, not me. The person who is helping to stimulate your pay check by purchasing from your company.

I have also been on the other side, where I was the worker trying to close up shop.

On the side of the worker or server: Seriously, GFY. It is 12:45, we close at 1 and I just mopped that entire section of the floor that you are standing on and getting muddy once more. You couldn’t have come in, I don’t know? Say, an hour, or better yet, two hours ago, before I had already cleaned more than half of the store and made sure that I had everything looking perfect for whoever is opening tomorrow. I would also like to get home and now I have to wait on your stupid ass to mull around for a bit, maybe come to a decision before closing time, and then live with the fact that you might end up not getting anything at all. Seriously, choke and die. I would punch you in the neck if I thought there wouldn’t be repercussions.

So you see, I understand it both ways. I also understand that it’s still pretty much a lose-lose situation. There will always be people coming in ten minutes to closing time and I will always be pissed off about it. The next step in this process is acceptance and moving on, because I can’t have it both ways. I can’t be mad if I am that ass*ole to somebody else.