So my finals week starts Monday, which means I have two written exams and two performance based exams standing between me and Summer 2014.
That's weird. I'm almost a quarter of the way done with my undergraduate studies.
What's worse is I still have no freaking clue what I'm going to do with my life, and apparently marry rich and/or win the lottery isn't a viable option... so... yeah.
Growing up is a strange experience. I'm in college and I'm expected to make all of these life decisions when a year ago I had to ask an adult for permission to use the bathroom. So society expects you to to mature pretty damn quick, to say the least.
Reflecting back on my freshman year of college I'd say I was rather successful areas and my performance in others was exceptionally mediocre. Grades were decent... first semester. I have an incredible job that brings me absolute joy and that I look forward to going to. I've made some awesome friends that will be around hopefully the rest of my life. Musically I've improved leaps and bounds too. But of course behind every success is failure. However there are parts of college that still confuse me.
I don't understand the allure behind getting plastered. All of my bouts of intoxication (don't act like you're shocked, I go to a state school) end with me hugging people and dancing on tables. From what I can deduce my soul is 17% white girl (the other 83% is taken up by "overly protective / jealous friend, sarcastic asshole, and mild - moderately pretentious musician), which is weird because usually when I interact with your stereotypical white girl I have to suppress an instinctual reaction to roll my eyes and vomit blood... wait no that's my instinctual reaction to dealing with people in general.
Okay, maybe that last bit was a little harsh, but it's finals week come Monday and I'm stressed. Where was I?
Growing up is weird, and I think I skipped the stage where I am a rebellious college student who sticks it to the man and has no regard for the rules of the system. For example: I spent my Friday night playing Diddy Kong Racing on the Nintendo 64. Yeah. Epitome of bad-assery. But in all seriousness I think I've blossomed into the role of "sarcastic yet concerned caretaker / parental role" rather swimmingly.
The point I'm trying to make is that there's apparently no set stages to growing up. You don't go from apathetic high school student to alcoholic college student to anal adult. Some of us skip the college phase and try to be anal adults in college (we're a dying breed, and if I could graph how many people snickered internally at my use of the word "anal" I would prove it to you). So freshmen year is almost over and for some people it already is.
I come back to Liberty for the summer. Not sure if I'm excited about that because I burned quite a few bridges when I moved to Columbia. Do I regret it? No. They were bridges that never should have been built in the first place. But it goes without saying that when your friends live across the state from you having a social life is difficult at best. Thankfully I have a few road trips scheduled to go see those people throughout the oncoming season on top of hopefully working a lot and making a decent amount of money (or as decent as a college student's savings account can get). And then what happens next?
I move back to Columbia and live in an apartment year round for however long. The future is not defined and I'm mildly paranoid about it. Rent is expensive. Food is expensive. Being alive is expensive.
And that's the harsh reality. Times change. People grow up. People grow apart. I can't say I'm as close to my high school friends now as I was in high school (actually I'm still only mildly close to one of them). And that's okay. People come in and out of your life. The ones that were meant to stick around will stick around. The ones that don't will find their way out the door without you expediting the process. I just hope the people I want to keep around are the ones that are meant to.
Nobody really ever asks to be thrown into the harsh world of adulthood. It just sort of happens. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better to live life as a tree. Very little stress. The worst thing that could happen is you get chopped down and turned into a Justin Bieber spiral bound notebook. So even after you're cut down some pre-teen girl is still going to love you.
But I wasn't born as a tree. I was born as a living, breathing, sarcastic human being with a great head of hair. And I'm going to live the life I was given because I only have one (since I wasn't born as a cat). Growing up can suck, but it can be mildly rewarding too.