Tag Archives: post grad

Some Nights.

Some nights, I :

  • online shop and order shirts with eagles on them, heart-shaped sunglasses and Holly-Golightly-inspired sleeping masks
  • eat a giant slice of chocolate cake (#noshame)
  • delete 100 people from my phone contacts
  • become reminiscent about the past and work myself into this little crawlspace of emotions
  • bookmark and pin a bunch of craft d-i-y projects that i know i will be too lazy and impatient to actually ever make or do-it-myself, but that look so cute and practical
  • watch The Princess Diaries and High Fidelity on a neverending loop
  • have 3 intense crippling moments thinking i will forever be alone
  • have 24 intense crippling moments thinking i will never make it in the working world and music industry
  • cry while reading my bible
  • send picture messages of: baby sloths, corgi puppies and kittens
  • laugh so hard at the dinner table with my parents about our fear of the slow checkout lady at hobby lobby that i start crying
  • actually remember to moisturize twice a day like every magazine has told me for years and feel like a total rockstar because of it
  • paint my nails with OPI’s “The One That Got Away” from the Katy Perry Nail Polish Collection and feel like a total rockstar because of it
  • play guitar and ukulele for the first time in two months and sing until i’m hoarse
  • spend 20 minutes trying to get my brother’s pug to love me, and fail
  • make obsessive and ocd-esque playlists on Spotify for hours on end
  • think about Coachella and assume that since I’m not there, it’s probably not very good, I mean like, Gotye and Beirut and Bon Iver and The Black Keys all in one place? I’m not jealous or needy for live music. Nope. Totally fine. (ish)
  • go out and am the quintessential twentysomething social butterfly with loud music and trendy beverages and dancing, only to be wishing for my bed and its 7 pillows, all comfortable
  • sit on my bed with its 7 pillows, all comfortable, and yet wish i was out on the town like a quintessential twentysomething social butterfly with loud music and trendy beverage and dancing
  • look forward to getting home just so i can put on my moccasins
  • watch the latest episode of Mad Men and discuss it in depth with my best friend via text message and consequently, become so thankful for stupid things like text messages and technology and writers of wonderful television episodes
  • miss my friends and college so much that it hurts inside my very soul. like, inside and out, my whole body just seems to say “i miss you, i miss you, i miss you all.”
  • try on my entire shoe collection and, really, applaud myself on my great taste
  • tell myself i should read more books and end up reading the internet for the next 3 hours
  • read The Frenemy and feel less alone
  • make long list blog posts that might borrow their format from The Frenemy a little bit
  • eventually sleep, but, at least tonight, not before I listen to Some Nights again. (see what I did there?!?!?)
  • (goodnight.)

I Used To Be So Reassured (+ Time Travel!)

Hi, internet. I’m still unemployed for those of you wondering (all 3 of you) and I don’t say that to make you feel sorry for me, just to keep you informed and because well, it’s part of this story.

You see, when you’re unemployed, you have a whole lot of free time on your hands. During my large block of free time today, after filling out applications and googling pictures of puppies (because that is another essential task), I decided to go back and clean up some of my old blogs, seeing as I’ve had quite a few. I was going through old entries from several blogs ago (oh yes, I was one of those special breeds of the internet generation that had a blog in middle school and high school…and God bless your heart if you read them and are still deciding to read my words now) and I found this:

April 1, 2008: “There’s a few future plans I have planned out and heard more on lately, but overall, I’m just trusting God and putting it all in his hands. I hardly know everything, but what do I know? I’ve got a list of books to read and a set of records and box sets of LPs that Olivia is letting me borrow that I can’t even believe I am actually hearing and that amaze me. There’s also a graduation date to look forward to. And larger than that, I’ve got an intense passion for music that overwhelms me sometimes, a family and group of friends that I run out of fantastic adjectives for, and a desire to serve in some way. I know that those will be there no matter where I’m living or what I’m doing years from now, and actually, yes, that’s very reassuring.”

I wrote it almost exactly 4 years ago, about to graduate high school. The “box sets of LPs” were the Live 1975-85 Boxset and I was juuuust beginning to listen to Bruce Springsteen. I was 17, I was idealistic, and I was so reassured.

I’m definitely not the same girl I was then. I look different in nearly every way and I sound different too. I drink a lot more coffee than I used to four years ago and since then, I’ve also touched Bruce Springsteen’s guitar while he was playing it. In comparison to four years ago, I’ve picked up a ukulele and guitar, fortunately, and unfortunately, I read less books. I am, for all intents and purposes, better than I was four years ago, more educated than I was four years ago, and older than I was four years ago (duh) but that peace and reassurance about the future and about my life that I had four years ago? I’d give anything to have those back, instead of this post-grad anxiety.

I have been obsessed with the idea of time travel for years. No, really.  REALLY OBSESSED. Back to the Future was my Dad’s favorite movie and was on repeat growing up. Marty McFly stole my heart at a young age with his orange vest and guitar solo. Today I look into buying a used DeLorean on Ebay maybe once a month, and don’t even get me started on my adoration for Doctor Who and how I wish for the Tardis. Heck, I even loved Stargate and Battlestar Galactica for their crazy timeline drama. So, all this geekery and obsession leads me to love discussions about flux capacitors and what it might look like to go back into the past.  I talk about time travel with no qualms at all. However, reading something I wrote and craving to be able to write it again, to go back there when I thought I’d come so far, baffles me more than any space-time continuum.

Is it too weird to think that you should take advice from…yourself?

Unemployment & Little Old Me

Oh, internet. I’ve been oddly away from you for nearly a month, but you know this lion couldn’t stay away forever. So, what could I talk about in this long overdue post to entertain you and simultaneously express my feelings at the same time?

I could talk about working 11 AM – 4 AM at The PureVolume House the entire week of SXSW in Austin, Texas and how it meant not having a life and having 12 emotional breakdowns a day and running around the city and never sleeping and losing 5 pounds from stress and getting a million free t-shirts and liking the experience in the end but being so exhausted and slightly absorbed in the Austin hipster culture more than I need to be, but that would just be obnoxious (see what I did there?).

I could use this post to apologize for not being more consistent in my online presence, but I think that’s just the story of my life at this point.

I could tell you how obsessed I am with any and all Dawes albums, but I’ll just leave this link here to let you discover the love for yourselves.

I could put pictures in this post, but I’ve been lazy with the camera, too- minus using PhotoBooth to test out the 4 pairs of feather earrings I now own (because when I finally embrace a trend, I go head-over-heels).

(brb, flying away now!)

So what’s the thing to talk about?

I think the American Dream is a thorn in my side at this moment.

It’s just, me being unemployed is not quite the stuff of Norman Rockwell paintings.

I know it’s only been 3 or so months of not having a job on my end, but there’s days where it’s hard to keep my head up. Not that I’m ready to settle down, but every five minutes I log into Facebook and see that another friend of mine just had a child. Or got a job. Or got a promotion. Or is engaged. And I’m happy for this progress in their lives, don’t get me wrong, but when I’m applying to part-time shifts and my most substantial relationship is the one between my right foot and the gas pedal on my Rav4, it becomes harder and harder to relate. Unemployment hasn’t ruined my life yet, if nothing else, I’m just restless. I bounce between living at my parents’ house (yes, living at home, you have no idea how much pride I just dropped to type that on the internet) and couches of my best friends, but nothing feels permanent. Everything I own is in boxes or suitcases and there’s a little backache from sleeping on weird surfaces that won’t seem to go away. I feel like a gypsy at times, and while this is what my little traveler heart has potentially wished for, there’s still a feeling of being trapped. I can’t just drop everything and hop on the open road, because, for one thing, I’d run out of gas money by about El Paso and secondly, I’m afraid to go too far without the means to support it, friends and family to guide me, and really, a purpose. I’d love to leave Texas in my rearview mirror for a season or two, but it’s so hard to rationalize it when I’m not doing anything to make a paycheck.

I feel like an early-era Bruce Springsteen song or a bad twentysomething-life tv drama, but the white-picket-fence-settle-down-and-have-a-family-and-be-happy dream is so perplexing and challenging to my brain at this moment in time.

Am I supposed to be striving for this at age 21? Would my wild heart be more suited for domestic bliss? Is finding a normal job and normal hours and a normal relationship more secure than trying to somehow get my moccassin-clad foot into the music and media industry’s door?

Well, probably. But then again, being unemployed 3 months after graduating isn’t totally unheard of. My own situation has some sense of normalcy, and everyone I seem to meet says they don’t have this American Dream thing figured out any more than I do, even if they do have a fence and a golden retriever and wear clothing that wasn’t bought at a thrift store and go to meetings with clients and remember important events in their iPhone calendars.

I think my plan is to leave the American Dream on hold and settle for just finding something substantial with a paycheck that I can live in for more than a week, but for now, I do live week-to-week. Rest stop to rest stop. Couch to couch (and sometimes a real bed!). Cup-of-coffee to cup-of-coffee. I say yes to any and all free food offered to me and I celebrate sunny days with my sunroof down. I see old friends when I can, make new friends in the most random places, daydream big and sometimes I even put on a big-girl-outfit for a job interview.  I scan wanted ads and job openings for hours online, apply to a few and hope for the best. I get rejection emails daily saying I’m over qualified, under qualified or that companies just don’t have room for me.

Sometimes I feel a little discouraged, but then I remember that I’ve got a good set of speakers and a car that runs and music that I can press the repeat button on. I’ve got friends that make me laugh and family that loves me and lets me stay with them even when I’m without a job, and most of all, I’m still breathing and walking on my own two feet.

I don’t think unemployment looks good on anyone, but it doesn’t hurt to smile every once in a while, so, I am. Also, if you’re reading this and you need a copy of my resume, I can send it to you faster than you can ask.

(No, seriously. And I’m passionate. And I can start immediately. And I make a mean cup of coffee.)

SERIOUSLY. ANYONE, FEEL FREE TO HIRE ME; TODAY!

I Really Loved My Apartment

I moved out of my last college apartment officially almost a week ago. This might explain my lack in writing, but really, I’ve just been attempting to put something together that doesn’t make me need to get a tissue mid-paragraph.

Here, while I compose myself, observe this picture of me and Christie dancing in our former apartment:

I could be overly emotional and ramble in this blog post. I could definitely talk for paragraphs in detail about how moving out was a metaphor for finally leaving college and how each piece of  furniture that left was a piece of the last 4 years finally leaving. I could joke about pawning all our leftover food and cleaning supplies on people even if they didn’t want it, post a link to “The Scientist” since Christie sang it nonstop the last few days we were living there, or tell you about how dramatic drinking the last cup of coffee on our final morning really ended up being.

However, I’m going to attempt instead to keep it simple, which is a new concept for me.

Moving is hard. It’s stressful and messy and at times you just want to throw everything away, but then you can’t throw ANYTHING away because you’re attached to it. We grow attached to stupid things like posters or plastic flowers or knickknacks on shelves because they represent little memories. I spent a good twenty minutes deciding which coffee cups to get rid of. I considered keeping a bottle of coconut lotion with 2 drops left in it. I had trouble fitting all my shoes into my car.

While all these moments could be the ones I remember or the ones that stand out, the one memory that will forever be representative will be the very last one. Christie and I had packed up nearly everything in boxes, cleared out all our stuff, removed all her paintings off the walls and we decided to take a little lunch break. We hopped in her car to go get sandwiches and she predicted I’d get the jalapeno chips, and of course, I did. We brought them back, and since everything was gone, we sat down on our wood floor and had a little ‘last supper’ together.  Our apartment had always been full of our friends and bustling with activity, but in those few minutes, it was just the two of us, roommates, and our last string of Christmas lights still plugged in. We didn’t talk about the sadness of leaving or our next plans, we just laughed about the streamers still on the ceiling from all the parties we’d thrown. We giggled about inside jokes and spoke in ridiculous accents. We talked about what we’d learned over the past year and sure enough, we talked about boys and flirting and relationships and marriage and all the places we saw ourselves in 5 years. When we finished, we sipped the last of our diet cokes and finished packing the last things we had left. Two hours and her parents’ truck later, we handed over our keys and were officially moved out.

If you asked me to be honest, of course I’m sad about moving out of San Marcos. I’m upset about having to move home without a job, I’m nervous about ever finding one and I’d give anything to be back in our rickety little apartment, even if I was just sitting on the wood floors. But, as I’m having to tell myself each day, the best parts of my little story aren’t over. Apartment C104 was one of the absolute greatest times in my life, contained the most wonderful best friend and roommate and basically other half-of-my-brain, was located above 4 of my other favorite people and neighbors in the world who basically let me live on their couch and in their lives for months, had a spectacular living room for movie nights across from one of the busiest kitchens for grilled-cheese-parties, and it was a fantastic little place to call home for a few months, but it isn’t the last of great times.

I’ll remember this past year in my favorite space bittersweetly, but for now it’s a little more bitter than sweet. I look forward to the future, but, all I’m saying is that the next apartment has some pretty big shoes, and wood floors, to fill.

And also, to whoever happens to move in next, good luck figuring out the light switches!

(Photo via Kasey Morgan Photography!)

Things I Will Never Be Able To Accurately Express With Words

Surprise- I made you a list post, internet! But really, you should expect them by now.

I aim to always be able to use words to express how I’m feeling, tell a story, explain a phenomenon and sing along, but sometimes I can’t string them together well enough. Being a blogger, I swirl ideas around constantly and keep a running commentary both written and spoken to add on, but there are times where this just doesn’t work. You see, there are a few subjects and occurrences that I am left high and dry on and struggle to even say. So, that’s what I’m after today. Blame it on writer’s block, but here are the –

Things I will never be able to accurately express with words:

How much I miss Clarence Clemons’ saxophone on the newly-leaked Bruce Springsteen album

How hard it is to stay focused on ANYTHING when you are unemployed, 21, moving out, applying to jobs, getting interviews, getting rejection emails, and trying to figure out where to live in your postgrad life all at the same time

How cute baby kangaroos are

How much I turn into a needy buy-me-this child whenever I see a piece of clothing with sequins and/or glitter on it

How I could live inside this video/how the lyrics can be felt in my very SOUL/how soothing the voice of Ray LaMontagne truly is:

How much running out of coffee give me anxiety

How many days I could survive on only grilled cheese and pancakes

How hard it is to act professional and grown-up when your phone accidentally goes off and the ringtone is Beyonce’s “Countdown”

How much better I need to get at loving people in general

How hard I am hyping The Hobbit coming out at the end of this year

The amount of sadness that is experienced when you lose your favorite leather jacket to a night on 6th Street in Austin

How much joy Adele sweeping the Grammys brought to my heart and made me wanna buy 5 more copies of “21” (again)

How much better I sleep after I’ve spent all day talking and laughing and playing with my favorite people

How great an idea “never-ending breadsticks” was and is and continues to be

How frustrating writer’s block is when you tell people constantly, “Yes, I would love to be a writer when I grow up!”

How hard it is to NOT go to the animal shelter and set loose all the kitties and puppies and steal them away in my Rav4

How simple the phrase “Jesus loves you” is and yet how its repercussions are so huge and forgotten by little old me

How greatly I wish I could be crafty and DIY-ish but fail miserably each time

The overwhelming love I feel from the internet and beyond on a daily basis. Thanks, yall.

Because I Am An Intern

I’ve interned for three of the greatest places in the world. I had experiences that were once in a lifetime, like hugging Dolly Parton, seeing Arcade Fire soundcheck in a room with only 15 other people, seeing the lives of students change dramatically for Jesus, standing on the stage of the Grand Ole Opry, standing in an elevator with Chris Martin, painting houses for underprivileged families in South Texas, printing setlists for Wilco, listening to Miranda Lambert list off her favorite country songs, praying for so many students and seeing their hopes and dreams actually happen, getting the chance to see how two of the biggest radio outlets and television shows in the world operate while I worked behind-the-scenes, gossiping about Ryan Gosling as he stood 5 feet in front of me, and at all three, laughing until I cried and learning so so much more than I could ever hope for.

I formed relationships at all three places that I am still maintaining and so grateful for.

Though the job market is a little rough right now, I’ve worked for free at all three and don’t regret that in the slightest. The days and hours I spent contributing to SiriusXM Satellite Radio Nashville, Austin City Limits TV and Kingwood First Baptist Church Students were all life-changing and marvelous.

Because of these experiences, I still consider myself an intern at heart. My work ethic is still excited, I am still anxious to take on new things and I still desire direction. But, you see, I don’t think being on the lowest end of a company or organization as an intern is a bad thing. It’s extremely humbling and can be hard, but it is so worth it.

However, because of still considering myself an intern, there’s still a few things I haven’t lost as habits yet.

Because I am an intern, I will promote your company till my fingers hurt. I will blog about you, talk about you, tweet about you, share you with others and say your name so many times that people think I am crazy. I will mention you like you’re my boyfriend and bring you up in situations. I will become “that girl” who is too into her job. However, I won’t really mind.

Because I am an intern, I will get you coffee. I know this is joked about and that this is looked down upon, but I don’t think you realize that in a world with a horrible job market and in wanting to serve you, I will get you some. I will ask how you take it, I will do my best to remember your order, I will try and get it to you as soon as possible. I will get you coffee because I know that the little things count. I know that caffeine is an important thing. I know from personal experience that it can change your whole workday.

Because I am an intern, I will ask questions. I WILL ASK SO MANY QUESTIONS. I will ask if I am doing things correctly. I will ask about protocols and hierarchy and if I can use the company fridge. I will ask about everything if I am unsure, and if I work up the courage, I will ask more than 1 person. Please do your best to answer my questions. Please?

Because I am an intern, I will stay late. I will not look at this as a horrible thing or as a bother, but rather, a privilege. I came to your company to get experience, and if that means more hours, I will take them on. In fact, most times, you’ll have to remind me to leave…

Because I am an intern, I will work for free. I’m not saying that this will be my favorite part, but I will come in and try to knock out the most work I can without a paycheck. Some days will be easier to handle this than others, but I will look at experience as my ultimate gain.

Because I am an intern, I will struggle with names, because I want to get every single one right. I will struggle with directions, but I will succeed. I will struggle with adapting and with feeling like I fit in, but ultimately, whether I do or not, I will focus on the task at hand.

Because I am an intern, I will make jokes about being young. I don’t mean this to be mean, I just find it funny to be the only 21 year-old sometimes, whether I am working with people older than me, or a youth group younger than me.

Because I am an intern, I will dress up for work. I know that you may have casual fridays and a lax policy on dress code, but I don’t think you know how long I have spent putting together the perfect ensemble to walk into your doors wearing. I want to look professional, I want to stand out in a way that is rememberable and commendable. Also, I may have rationalized that extra cardigan I bought or those “big girl” shoes by saying it was for “work.”

Because I am an intern, I will not want to leave when my time is up. I know it seems cheesy, but it’s true. I will have bad days and I will fail and look back at some things I did or said and cringe, but I will have established my tiny little place in your offices and I will miss it.

Because I am an intern, I will hope you know that I am grateful. I am grateful for your recommendation, for your advice and for you even taking the chance on me in the first place.

Because I am an intern, I will also be a little spoiled by having such great internships, but eventually a job will come along that will measure up. Til then, of course, I’ll be continuing to be a chaperone on KFBC retreats, continuing to convince everyone to get Satellite Radio and tune into the Highway and continuing to DVR Austin City Limits every Saturday night and watch every clip that surfaces online.

I mean, some things just never change.

All These Things That I’ve Done

Sometimes you are home from college cause you graduated and although you feel accomplished, it sinks in that you don’t have a job yet or a future planned and you get really scared-out-of-your-little-mind and nervous about the uncertainty.

Sometimes this uncertainty drives you crazy and you just sit at your computer on job-searching websites for hours, not sure where to start and frustrated with the results.

Sometimes you take a break from this ridiculous search and decide to do something productive, like, say, clean your room that you haven’t lived in for 4 years completely.

Sometimes when you’re cleaning, you stumble across childhood artifacts and old notes that you used to pass to your best friend in middle school, speaking in codenames about the boys you liked and the dreams you had for when you grew up, and you read them with a 21-year-old mindset and it seems so hilarious and bittersweet to see how much you’ve changed, or rather, how much you really haven’t.

Sometimes, buried beneath the notes and old ticket stubs, you find your old green 2004 iPod mini, or rather, your first real love.

Sometimes you take this little iPod, and even though it seems ridiculous, you hook it up to charge and find yourself looking through it eagerly.

Sometimes you realize this old iPod holds so many of the keys to your heart, so many of the melodies that you held onto tightly, as well as nearly 100 hand-crafted playlists that you painstakingly made at the age of 13 to express nearly every emotion and every situation perfectly.

Sometimes you wonder how you had real friends with such OCD playlist tendencies.

Sometimes you take this old iPod and hook it up to your car stereo and press shuffle, just for kicks, and then for the next two hours, you know every single line of every song that plays.

Sometimes these old songs make you happy, sometimes these songs make you question your music taste and sometimes they make you laugh out loud.

Sometimes you run across a song that you forgot how much you loved. I mean, you know it can be a little cheesy and that no one really listens to The Killers anymore, but you remember when this song was it. You remember using ridiculous words like EPIC to describe it. You remember when your best friend played it for you for the very first time after a particularly long school day full of low self-esteem and it cheered you up. You remember singing along to it with your friends on countless car rides through your suburban neighborhood and you remember seeing it in several inspirational online videos for all sorts of nonprofits and campaigns. You remember it being ‘over-played’ in your young hipster mind, but still loving it. You remember throwing your fist in the air and feeling a little part of your chest swell when Brandon Flowers & company repeated “I got soul but I’m not a soldier!” over and over again. You remember, for whatever reason, this song being one you were never able to skip past, never able to ignore, never tired of. You remember always hearing it and feeling infinite.

And sometimes, you hear it again, driving down the road on a day where you feel like you have no idea what to do with your life, and everything comes rushing back. You soak up every little lyric and rhythm and cymbal crash, and you remember that you’re okay and that life isn’t so overwhelming and dramatic.

And after all, sometimes you need a five minute and six second singalong to stay sane.