It’s Wednesday. Usually, I’d complain about this day. I mean, when do working folk not complain, unless it’s 4:55 PM on a Friday? But it’s like a Super Hump Wednesday because it’s a major holiday and we also have Friday off and holy shit, I’m getting so excited to leave already.

Is it wrong to get so excited about work ending? Like, do adult people get just as prepared to leave like I do? Last semester, during my finals week, I snuck out of a classroom to avoid sitting through endless presentations; Literally crawled out of a classroom, on my hands and knees, and threw my book bag out the door to avoid having too much weight on me while I walked like an infant. That’s basically what happens when I leave work at 5 PM and everyone is still there and I feel awkward. Screw your judgmental glares, I live in the boonies and you’re all a subway ride away.

My point from that tedious rant, is that I need to learn how to cook. What? How did we go from shamelessly crawling out of a classroom to learning how to cook? Here’s the explanation.

I recently came across an article on thoughtcatalog, which is the shit and if you haven’t read their pieces, DO IT NOW, listing 10 reasons why 22 is the perfect age. The reasoning was genius. It was basically saying how if you don’t have two pennies to rub together right now and have no idea what the IRS really does, it’s totally fine. At 22, most people will forgive you for not understanding how the real world works.

3. It’s okay to not have it all figured out just yet. Whatever ‘it all’ is. Since you are probably a recent college grad, your family may give you gentle reminders about your future, but it hasn’t quite reached that pushy get-out-of-my-house-and-get-a-real-job phase. Cue the soul-searching.

Therefore, at 21, people should definitely forgive me for essentially crawling on my hands and knees when leaving work at 5 on the dot, right? I just want to get home and cuddle with Netflix. However, that forgiveness will only last for so long and when it runs out, when you get past that point where pre-22 becomes nonexistent, you have to enter adulthood, whether you like it or not.

4. Speaking of family, it is perfectly okay to live with your parents. Free rent and home-cooked meals? Holla. I mean, as long as you’re living under the pretense of ‘I’m working on nabbing my dream job in a couple years and will then find a humble abode of my own’ kind of thing.

I’m still at home with my family. And I’m completely okay with that. I don’t plan on moving out until I’m financially stable and able to rent without giving half of my paycheck away. Don’t worry, I’m not going to be there till I’m like 26, but 25.9 maybe? Kidding. (I love you, mom) But I don’t see the point of moving out right now or learning how to cook or understanding how taxes work. And the problem is that I seriously should. I burn pasta. Like literally forget to just stir it so it doesn’t stick and then minutes later it’s ruined and I’ve created some type of kindergarten macaroni catastrophe.

I keep delaying the inevitable. One day, Seamless will no longer be so inviting and that 2.00 delivery charge will make all the difference between ordering out and cooking up some pasta with that questionable marinara sauce in your cupboard.

However, I’m slowly realizing that although 22 may be the perfect age, it’s also the most stressful age. I never understood the meaning of a quarter-life crisis, until now. I’m trying my hardest to build up credit, so I’ve taken on my own car insurance, lease payments, and credit card. And it’s so much. I can’t even fully comprehend why I’m doing this, I’m just doing it because my mother is a finance freak and has taught me a few things about conserving and preparing for the future, financially. (At 20, you’ll listen to anything and believe it)

I’m only 21 and already freaking out, so one can only imagine how paranoid and stressed I will be at 22.

So, I need to learn how to cook. I feel as if once I conquer that, I can take control of being in my twenties, as ridiculous as that sounds. But cooking is one thing that I have put off for so long because I’ve never felt the need to. I feel like once I finally force myself to cook, I have to grow up, and that’s actually pretty terrifying to someone who has been using anti-wrinkle creams since she was 18. Therefore, I’ll tackle that first.

Till next time, y’all.

Also, can someone tell Taylor Swift that feeling 22 is stressful as all hell and not some indie-pop video with girls prancing around the beach. I mean, I do that, but I’m usually drunk because it distracts from the real issue at hand – worrying about whether that bikini will fit me ten years from now.

Shut up, you all do it.

*Currently trying to crawl out of my office. One step at a time, guys.

I won’t even say it.

I won’t.

I refuse.

Shit…

It’s Monday.

Literally, why? Just why? Why would you do such a thing to us, Monday? What did we ever do to you? I believe people are generally good at heart, therefore, why would you wrong us when we have essentially done no wrong to you? We’re the good ones. Go attack those bastards on Wall Street, not the almost college graduate just trying to pay for her car insurance every month. I’m trying, dammit.

Alright, I get it, I forgive you, considering you are nothing tangible, therefore, I can’t exactly strangle you. All I can do is wake up every Monday morning (God willingly), stare up at the ceiling as if you’re posted to it and just glare at you with such disdain. Oh, it works, people, try it.

Last night, I had an interesting conversation with a friend that I wish to share with you all. Don’t worry, it was a guy, so we weren’t discussing my menstrual cycle or my exes. Seriously, girls, we need better topics of conversation. Anyway, this friend of mine is extremely wealthy. He’s the type of person who enjoys discussing how incredible his life is, because, you know, acting like life is an eternal journey of constant clubbing and discovering yourself while at ULTRA in Miami, post 35 years old, will definitely help you achieve Nirvana.

He’s usually a bore to talk to. Surprisingly, hearing about how someone gets wasted every night on $15 red bull and vodkas is not interesting. Go figure! However, my little green monster unfortunately escapes me whenever I see him post ridiculous photos on Instagram, and then he adds some cool filter and you’re just like, “really? No, no filter. At least make it look somewhat life-like for us average folks.” It’s photos of his house, his multitude of what I call “dick cars” (cars that are awesome to make up for the fact that you probably have nothing below to show for it) his endless vacations to Miami, Puerto Rico, awesome-fucking island, etc., and then the many nights of clubbing with beautiful women.

I hate that when I talk to him or anyone else with that kind of wealth, I get a bit envious. Now, it’s not like I grew up in the hood with Kanye. I’ve always lived in the suburbs, probably considered upper middle class, had a playground, an above ground pool, three car garage, wait a minute, I was actually pretty well off. But I also wasn’t buying from Chanel and Prada like it was no big deal. I wanted to, though. I mean, isn’t it every child’s dream to be better off than their parents? Or at least a parent’s dream? My parents always taught my brothers and I that. Therefore, I promised myself that I’d make enough when I was older to never have to worry and of course, give back.

Our conversation went as it usually did. The awkward, “hey, whatcha been up to?” and you’re just like, “I’m not Barack Obama. My life has been pretty consistent these days, but sure, I guess things have changed.” However, something happened. He became…human. Our back and forth bantering went from something so casual to something of actual substance. He spoke about how stressful it is to work with his parents at their packaged food corporation, and how easy it would be if he could just let go of them and be on his own. At first, I was rolling my eyes. Stop complaining, kid; you have mommy and daddy fully supporting you while you get to go to work and do whatever you’d like, at any time, and not do anything you don’t like. However, I pretended to sympathize and act like I understood these #richkidproblems. I told him how I didn’t exactly enjoy working at the startup I’m at, but it’s a company with so much potential and opportunity for growth, aka, I’m staying for the financial benefits to come.

Just when I thought he’d agree with my decision to stay for money and we’d have some type of like bro-high-five (Do you men do that? please stop), because hey, he’s affluent and pretty boastful, he said, “Yeah, I know, but at the end of the day it’s not about the money, money will always come and go…doing something you love and makes you happy is what’s important.” (Picks up jaw)

Dude came straight out of a tumblr post. Instead of empowering me, he humbled me. I sat back for a second and thought, wow, he’s right. Money will come and go, and when it goes, will you still be happy? I can’t say that, if I stay here and make enough money to not worry about $14 cocktails. Where do we draw the line? Are we on the pursuit of happiness or the pursuit of money that may bring us to happiness? Does the latter ever happen, though?

I don’t know, I really don’t. I haven’t even found what I have a passion for, therefore, how could I really know? Are you over 25 and know? Are you over 35 and know? Are you over 65 and know? Check out Jane Fonda. She is 75 and looks absolutely incredible. In an interview she recently had, she explained how she’s finally hit that lightbulb moment in her life; How she doesn’t miss being in her twenties, because she’s finally content with where she’s at now. At 75. She’s also very wealthy, however, that’s not why she’s happy. It’s got so much more to do with her finally finding something, whether that be inner peace, love, a wonderful extracurricular activity that we don’t know about, etc. Will we all have to be 75? Or do the majority of us feed off of being 37 and rich, not seeing that being 75 and internally happy has so much more weight to it?

Maybe. I guess what I can say to all of this and that conversation and to you, guys, is that this life is too short to not be doing something you love to do. I sit at this 9-5 and there are days when I’m like wow, I can’t even bear another day, and then other times when I find out I’m going to Dublin and London, I’m like, I love this place, look at all the daisies blossoming out of the hardwood floor! I’m still young and stupid, okay? But we’re all young and stupid, at heart, at least. That’s why I’m still sitting in this comfy rolling chair, still doing work, still commuting three hours everyday to prove my worth to them. But for what? When will I learn, I ask myself. Maybe never. Maybe in the next year or two.

So here’s a question to you guys, have you learned?

I feel as if I should get on a regular pattern with this. Like, every Friday morning I’ll write up a new blog piece and you guys will be dazzled and intrigued by my expert advice.  You know, because 21 year olds give such great advice; We do, though. Seriously. Our multitude of hangovers have taught us valuable lessons that you older folks may have forgotten.  For one, go big or go home. That can be directly applied to the consumption of alcohol and/or reaching for the stars. Let your moral conscience choose which means more to you.  But, what I’m trying to get at is that I know us youngsters are relatively naive and childish, but we’ve got a lot to contribute to this world besides creating the eternal digital hellish depths of our past called Facebook. We’re kind of smart and have a cool way of looking at things.

At the startup I work at, we are a group of early twenty somethings to mid forties. Everyone is “fresh”, which I find to be a very funny word. My father used to call me “freca” when I was a little girl. It means fresh in Spanish, and he used it so frequently when referring to me because I would always talk back to him and had such a big attitude for a tiny, little girl. I feel like that’s what my company should be called when referenced to; “freca.” We’ve taken a concept, or an idea, that was so outdated in the pharmaceutical industry and then added a little spin on it, tweaked it, and boom, out came a new product that is basically groundbreaking for the pharma and biotech companies.

Okay, I’m pretty sure you’re like, “WTF is this girl saying? I don’t care about pharma and biotechs.” Don’t worry, neither do I. Shh. What I mean is that we’ve added innovation to an old concept because when you’re young and experimental, a leap or risk doesn’t seem so “risky”, until it is. And once it becomes risky, you then just deal. You either hang or you can’t hang. What’s cool is that stupid ideas are welcomed, annoying questions are answered, and then magic happens. Chaotic magic, magic that usually doesn’t make sense, but still magic. You can’t get this raw, “from the ground up” type of collaboration, innovation, and production anywhere else, especially in a huge corporation.

I guess that’s why I’m scared to move on from here. I get to have casual Friday everyday, I mean, my boss wears Pink converse sneakers to work in the summer, (Suit and tie people, be jealous), everyone knows what’s going on in every part of the company, (And that’s done by simply shouting across the room, “Hey, wtf are you up to right now?”), and we get free lunch so often it’s nuts. (It’s pizza usually, but FREE is FREE, y’all) We are freca. Whenever I talk about this company, I always find myself defending it. There’s attitude behind what we do, because we’re paving the way to something that’s never been done before. Therefore, there’s a fight in what we do. We’re trying to prove ourselves to them older peeps who are not intrigued by “new” and are so content with old, you know, the ones who are still hanging on to Twinkies. Guys, you have got to let go. They literally will kill you.

And that’s what can actually kill us, or at least kill those who are just so old fashioned; staying in the past. The past is in the past. It’s gone, sadly. Therefore, we must keep moving and thinking, and trying to improve. IMPROVE. Let’s improve, people. That’s what all these young entrepreneurs are doing. Improving a problem that we were all so damn tired of, but were too lazy to admit and too outdated to realize its potential. Let’s get freca, let’s be freca, let’s teach others to be freca. With enough attitude and conviction in something that has never been done, you could take over this world. Now, who doesn’t want to do that?

Alright, guys, until next time. Stepping into our black hole of a kitchen with the little lamp in the corner because the ceiling light just randomly broke and we’re all just like, “yeah, rather put that money towards our wages so let’s live like  ‘Little House on the Prairie’ for a bit until we can actually fix it.” Now there’s the ugly of a startup. I gave you guys both ends of the spectrum.

Thursday!  Get excited, you hardworking, driven, fantastical, (is that a word?) 9-5, slightly miserable, caffeine addicted, people. See what I did there? No, but really, it’s Thursday! We should be excited that the most teasing day out of the entire week is finally here. And I know what you’re thinking, “Damn, another week is over?” And although I feel as if we should do some type of victory dance because the work week is coming to a close, I also feel like we should be doing some type of life reflection, like, “How in the hell are my years passing me?”

I thought about this as I went out to dinner after work by myself yesterday.  I know, right? What 21 year old goes out to dinner by herself? However, you’d be surprised how peaceful it is to just enjoy a delicious meal, in the quiet spaces of your mind, and just dine. Funny thing is, my meal was shit.  (Here comes the cursing, peeps)

One of my favorite inexpensive, Italian spots in the city is Otto Enoteca. It’s Mario Batali’s lesser version of Babbo, basically it’s .01% of what Babbo is. However, the atmosphere is pleasant, the servers act like they work at Morimoto and the food is pretty great. (But then again, at 21, I think any place that feeds my starving stomach should end up in Zagat)

Before my arrival, I walked through Washington Square Park. It was a beautiful day, people were stopping and staring at the street acts that are always so painful to watch, but you keep looking because you hope for just one second that they do something magnificent that triggers you into giving them a dollar. (That rarely happens) I usually would just run through this park if I were with someone, but I wasn’t, so I sat, put away my addiction called the iPhone, and looked around me. I sat and thought. Thought about why I was alone right now, why I let such a little disappointment upset me so much that I left work early in hopes of visiting a museum, but only to have dinner, by my lonesome. I carried those thoughts with me to dinner and maybe that’s why the food sucked. The pasta was too al dente, and hey, I’m all about Giada’s “al dente” pasta talk, but jeeze, it was like it came straight out of the box and the chef just gave up right then and there. $23.00 later and I was even more upset than when I had arrived.

And then it hit me. Well nothing, really technically “hit” me, but I had a realization; It’s okay. I was beating myself up over feeling sad or upset or lonely or delusional or just the regular pms-ing, when I didn’t even realize that it’s quite alright to have one of “those days.” And this is to all of us. We work, work, work, come home, shower, sleep, then work, work, work, repeat, and fit in some useless hour or two of American Idol to make us feel better. That never does the trick, though, does it? It’s because sometimes we just need to sit back and admit to ourselves that life is pretty damn difficult at times, and yes, when the going gets tough, the tough get tougher, but those tougher people did, at one point, have that lonesome dinner where they wanted to pull their hair out, cry, argue, and then depart.

We live in such a world where it’s stupid to show such weakness and that’s a problem. I left work about an hour early, which I never do, and the one time I do, I felt as if everyone knew I was upset, and was like, “Look at this naive girl. She can’t even handle her job right now.” And that wasn’t the case. I was at work the next day, (today), at 9 am ready to tackle this Thursday head on. I just needed that moment yesterday to be in tune with my feelings, and possibly a tub of chocolate ice cream. (But only one tub!)

I feel as if us working people don’t realize this until we hit some type of insanity point in our mid 40’s where we’re like, “Holy shit, these kids! My spouse! My mortgage! All of you, disperse this instant!” So here’s my post-teen advice to you working folks: (please take me seriously) learn how to release, to not harbor in anger or confusion, to essentially, “let go.” Even if just for a moment. During your lunch hour, just don’t go run down to your favorite deli and devour your overpriced sandwich, sit down and savor it. When you’re stressed, don’t frantically buzz your already crazed secretary to get you that turbo charged Starbucks drink. Go get it yourself, and during that dreaded two minute walk there, breathe. Plug in some headphones, play your favorite song, (Yes, Rod Stewart’s “Da Ya Think I’m Sexy” counts), buy your drink and finish it outside.

We are human. And it’s okay to confront that demon within us, the one telling us that it’s not okay to be human.

It’s Tuesday.  I feel like Tuesdays are the new Mondays.  We’ve learned how to embrace Monday.  It’s dreaded, the office secretly hates each other that day, but we’ve come to terms with delaying the inevitable so we cope.  However, Tuesdays are just awful.  Why do you exist?  Hump Day is exciting, Thursday is the best tease and then, Friday, well Friday is Friday.  Tuesday’s just like, “I feel neglected in your weekly schedule so I’m just going to straight ruin your week.”  I just realized I wrote a paragraph on how bad work week Tuesdays are.  Clearly, this youngin’ has not quite yet become accustomed to the 9-5.

It’s funny, though, because you’d think that I’d be so excited to get a proposal for a full-time job as a student/intern entering my senior year of college.  However, I just feel “ehh” at this point. Ehh.  You know?  It’s that pretty indifferent feeling.  And it’s not like I am not thankful.  Oh, I’m extremely grateful and fortunate because I understand life after graduation is no walk in the park.  But, I just feel like, (drumroll) I’m not doing something I’m passionate about.

How many times have you heard that from your friends, family, significant other?  “I’m not doing what I want.”  I’ve heard that too many times, from way too many different people, and what I’ve gathered is that the majority of us are pretty unhappy with where we are in life, in terms of careers, relationships, personal growth, etc.  I hear their stories, their complaints, the draw in their voices, and I get scared. What if that’s me?  What if I turn into that?  Okay, so let’s solve the problem.  Start doing what you love, Amanda.  Oh, here’s a little zinger.  I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL I WANT TO DO IN THIS CRAZY LIFE.

Therefore, I go to work.  I breathe.  I dabble in a few extracurricular activities that excite me (Amanda, volunteering once a year doesn’t count), and I hope that somewhere along the way, my passion will just appear right in front of me and I’ll notice and hang on to it till the day I die.  Life doesn’t span out like that, does it?  I’m being serious, though, does it?  Have any of you, possibly older than me, younger, around my age, have you found your calling in life?  And if you are the the few privileged who have, how did it happen?  I don’t even know you, and I’m jealous.

I remember wanting to be a writer for so long when I was much younger.  I didn’t know what to write, what type of industry just writing “how I felt” fell into, or how I’d get started, I just knew that writing was something I enjoyed doing.  I’d write poems, short stories, started an amateur blog on Tumblr voicing my embarrassing emotions about an ex boyfriend, and I was pretty convinced I loved it.  I grew discouraged, though, when I saw how difficult it was to be successful in that type of industry.  I figured I’d have better luck in marketing.  And that’s where I am.  And hear me out; marketing is so interesting. But the odd fact that dogs primarily see in black and white is interesting, too.  It doesn’t mean I want to study why dogs are colorblind.

You get me?  What if I never find my passion?  My goal, at this very moment, is to financially benefit from the growing success of this start-up.  They are an incredible company about to hit that break-even point, and I want to be there.  And I probably will be, as long as I don’t blow up the coffee machine.  And once they do, I want to essentially “cash-out” and do something that is of more interest to me.  Is that horrible?  I kind of cringed when I typed, “cash-out.”  But I can’t see myself here forever.  I’ll sacrifice for a few years, until I’m stable enough to move on and begin doing something that inspires me.  That’s my plan.  Will it work?  I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.  We’ll hold our breath for a minimum of 5 years, and if we exceed those 5 years, then we’re dead.  (That was punny)

Alright, enough sap for the day.  Plus, my boss is probably wondering why I’m typing so frantically and no actual work is being generated.  But then again, I also have like 5 useless internet tabs open right now that if someone were to come by my spot unexpectedly,  I’d argue that a ghost took over my computer.  And then nervously click out of Spotify. (Body Party by Ciara is probably not the most appropriate work theme song)

I’ll see you guys next time!  And remember that it’s almost 5PM and I’m right there with you silently celebrating in our wishful hearts.

Kesha-Seventeen-Magazine-1-736x1024How does one begin a blog post?  Do I say, “Hey, guys!”, “Hey, y’all!”, or simply, “listen to this or be damned.”  I’m going to go with “Hey, y’all!” considering I just got back from a job conference in New Orleans, Louisiana.  I always find it ironic how boring, work conventions are placed in the most fun places.  Maybe to offset the fact that you’d rather off yourself than be there for eight plus hours smiling at people that you don’t care to meet?

So, let’s begin.  Hey, y’all!  This is my second blog post.  I felt the need to continue this because, one, I got a pretty good amount of traffic from my first one, (Big round of applause for you five extraordinary people) and two, in my short life, I’ve learned that no matter how discouraging a situation may seem, you must keep going.

You may be wondering why the subject of my blog is named, All Children but One Grow Up. If you’re unaware of where this line is from, well I apologize for the childhood that must have slipped by you.  It’s from Peter Pan!  The boy who stays forever young in Neverland, not comprehending reality and the fact that those wonder years must eventually end.  Life would be quite beautiful if we were as naive and clueless as Peter, however, that’s not how life works.  And I’ve recently realized that.  I purchased my first car this month.  Paying the lease month by month, along with insurance, putting aside funds to save up for my first house, expanding my credit card limit, and then crying at night when I no longer have enough money to buy useless items from Nordstrom.  THIS LIFE IS JUST TOO HARD.  How do you all do it?

And although 21 years old is still an age full of blossom and experimenting, it feels as if my years of no worries have seriously vanished behind me.  (Don’t you roll your eyes at me, 35+ year olds)  I’m kind of understanding what you adults go through.

I recently traveled to New Orleans for a four day work conference with my internship which is mind boggling to me.  Let me explain why.

I started there almost a year ago as a social media intern for a healthcare data analytics company.  Funny, right?  Who in healthcare or pharmaceuticals requires someone to maintain social media?  Because who honestly cares about what drugs the FDA approve of, or what new biotech company is on the rise, or what scientific breakthrough some nerds have conjured up in their underground laboratories?  (Now, if it was a spin off Breaking Bad, now we’re talking)  I fooled around on my computer eight hours a day, three days a week, getting paid above minimum wage, to maintain their twitter account and linkedin.  But we all know that no one in their right mind could possibly be on those social media sites for that long.  However, they did!  I thought about leaving, sought another internship, which I got, at Seventeen Magazine as a sales and advertising intern.  But then something happened.

The beauty of a startup company appeared right in front me.  Before I knew it, I was wearing 15 hats, dipping into areas of marketing, sales, branding, social media, communications, public relations, graphic design, project managing the upcoming job conferences, etc.  I suddenly went from their “twitter girl” to a pretty prominent role in all areas listed above.  I work directly under the CEO of the company, a brilliant woman who’s received degrees from Brown, Yale and Harvard.  (Not intimidating at all, right?)  And as the youngest intern in the company, I went on a paid work conference to New Orleans and had an incredible time.

Naturally, I bid adieu to Seventeen Magazine and had to turn down an internship that has been my dream ever since I first picked up that magazine.  I tried my hardest to get into Hearst Magazines, and through a connection, I finally got an interview and landed the position; only to turn it down.  Ain’t it funny how life works?

Sometimes, life presents itself to you in such ways that you couldn’t imagine.  Years ago, if you would have asked me where I’d seen myself a few years down the road, I would have never pictured my life as a New York City intern running around like a chicken with its head cut off, paying bills, commuting, going to school only to come back exhausted at night not because of partying, but because of a tiring day of class and an internship.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not this prude college student who can’t funnel a four loko every now then.  (Yes, you can judge me.  No, I don’t remember what happened that night)  But maybe I see things a bit differently than your average college student and maybe that’s why this blog felt necessary.

Who knows where life is about to take me.  All I know is that right now I’m like where I’m at, and I’m happy and fortunate for the many opportunities I’ve been presented with.  I’m not settling, I’m just looking forward to the near future, aka, the next couple of days because that is truly all we can predict.

There’s always more to come!  I’ll see y’all next time.  Excuse me while I have to go decide whether or not I want to pay my first car payment in full right now or pay the minimum to put the rest of the money towards the Chipotle funds that have been sinking my credit card bill.  Like really, why do we pay extra for guacamole?

My mom made me do it!  Or at least it was her suggestion that I start a blog.  (Just lost about 50% of my 10 viewers)  I say that because I actually had no interest in writing a blog about my life as a recently turned 21 year old college student interning at a New York City start-up healthcare data analytics company.  (Just lost about 75% of my now 5 viewers.  Hey, 1.25 viewers!)  I mean, look at all of the desperate tags I had to invent just to get your attention.  ImageI figured you’d much rather follow some awesome, inspirational, gal traipsing through life without a chip on her shoulder fetching lattes and croissants for her Vogue-esque boss.  (Oh God, whoever’s left, please stay)  But here’s the thing: I’m not just a recently turned 21 year old college student interning at a pharmaceutical database company.  I’m you.

Yes, you, with the childish dreams, empty bank account, deepening loans, and frightening thoughts on what to do after graduation.  Remember when we were so excited to grow up and wear professional clothes and by the miraculous grace of God, we were going to somehow end up at the job of our dreams?  How young and naïve we were.  And what’s funny is that we are still so young, yet I feel as if when I graduate college, my life is just on a downward spiral towards adulthood and once I’ve arrived, it’s full of taxes, and mortgages, and diapers and then diapers on yourself.  Here’s an example:  I haven’t read The Great Gatsby since high school, and because those grade school years seem centuries ago, I had to go on spark notes to look up the basic plot line of the book just so I could understand the new movie adaptation.  I’m still debating on whether or not I had hit rock bottom right then and there.

My point is that I feel you.  I’m not here to say, “Hey, look at my awesome life.  I’m perfect, I’m the next Mark Zuckerberg, so listen to every word I say or you’ll be sorry.”  Never.  Why?  Because I’m you and let’s be honest, what do we actually know at this point in our premature lives?  Unfortunately, our impressive keg stands cannot be listed as an extracurricular activity on our resumes.  But our willingness to learn, to try, our curiosity about life, that is what can be.  I’m here because I got tired of talking to myself after a frustrating day at my internship and classes and the hour and a half long commute, and figured there’d be someone willing to listen.  Kidding.  I think I just want to help you all.  Come laugh with me, hear my stories, maybe get inspired and join me in my search to find out what life is all about.

My name is typical college student.  I’m a marketing major with a concentration in Advertising and Promotions, and a Philosophy minor.  Why a philosophy minor?  Well, I love English.  But that glamorous starving artist lifestyle that you see in the movies is actually not real.  Go figure.  Therefore, my brilliant mother convinced me to seek a career in business, particularly marketing because of how dynamic and fun it is, and I listened.  I then landed an internship at an up and coming big data analytics company focusing on the pharmaceutical and biotech industries.  I started there in the summer of 2012.  Here I am, almost a year later with my head held higher and holding an ever changing cast of hats within a rapidly growing company.  (See?  I can be positive at times.)  There’s a lot more, but I’ll keep it short.  Though this first post seemed so long.  I just started, stop whining.  My hope is that somewhere down the line, you and I can figure out the secret to success, happiness, personal growth, etc.  Also known as, if I crash and burn, you’re coming with me!