Archives for posts with tag: student

Good God, I am tired.

And at 21 years old, I’d seriously never thought I’d be so tired. Tired of what, you say? Tired of people making you feel odd for turning a pale-like color when they ask you the infamous question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Well, first of all, THAT IS THE WORST FUCKING QUESTION.

I am not even in the slightest bit grown-up. Like, if I died tomorrow and the 10 o’clock news mentioned my age, every person in the world would be like, “How awful. She was just a kid.” Even when 30-somethings die, my parents are always like, “That’s sad. He/she was just a kid.” Because, essentially, I still feel like I am a child. Not like an infant who is still trying to grab mom’s boob, but like a kid who is just unaware of everything this life has to offer. And externally, I do not act like a child. I understand the importance of always carrying yourself very professionally, and I’ve been told many times that I am very mature for my age. However, internally, I feel like a 14-year-old girl forced to wear heels to her first formal event and stumbling so embarrassingly with everyone telling her that she needs to learn how to walk properly.

The other day, I sought an old acquaintance’s help on getting in contact with internship positions that she’s had previously and hoping to get in contact with them to secure something for the upcoming fall semester. I sent her a very informal message (Hey, girl!), attached my resume (Please skip over the fact that my GPA hasn’t been updated in two years) and asked her to get back to me when she could because she’s currently living out her dream; traveling and getting paid for it. (You go, Glen Coco) However, because she’s someone who is constantly advocating the “follow your passion” tagline, she asked me a series of questions before giving me any concrete answers as to who she’d put me in touch with.

First question: What kind of position were you looking for?

(Doggy, Missionary, Woman-on-top) I DON’T KNOW. I kind of just froze. I’m majoring in marketing, so I gave her a list of some sub-fields in marketing like branding, social media, advertising, community management, etc. (Phew, dodged that bullet.)

NOPE.

Second question: What’s your dream job?

(Holy shit, holy shit. Why are you the job devil?) I kind of lol-ed when she asked me that, and then silently cried inside. I swear, when people ask me that, it changes every time and every single time, the answers become more and more absurd. A few years ago, when I entered my freshman year of college, it was like, “I want to become a marketing executive.” It was simple, clean and to the point. I had no idea what the hell that title encompassed, but it sounded pretty legit and I supported it for a few years. Now, entering my senior year of college, the answer is like, “Hmm, some shit where I get to write, and do social media, and throw in some marketing and some saving diseased children and I’M GOOD.” And then afterward, when people are like WTF, I kind of just wriggle my arms in the air saying, “I don’t know, HAHA” repeatedly until they walk away. My point is, I have no idea.

My dream jobs are usually influenced by life events. When I saw animals being mistreated while watching Animal Cops on Animal Planet, I was so convinced I wanted to be Annemarie Lucas. I then became so involved in the recent Obama campaign (aka, bashing Mitt Romney via Twitter and sending shout-outs to Obama for Obamacare) that I thought I wanted to become some type of politician or field member for the Obama administration. My aspirations change every day and although that may seem cool, it is extremely frustrating and it sucks to have people look down upon you because you’re unsure of what you want out of this life and what really drives you.

Oh, so you thought the questions were over? HELL NAH.

Girl came back with a vengeance and asked me the third and final question: Where do you see yourself in ten years?

(I literally and figuratively threw in the towel.) I got so nervous that I accidentally pressed some type of emoji on my phone keyboard and it sent. Want to guess what emoji? A cat. And not just any cat, a fucking huge-ass junk food eating, and graphically moving cat that Facebook message has. The thing is taking up half of the screen, so in between our back and forth conversation, is just a cat going ham on some burger and fries. (Fuck you, Zuckerberg) But honestly, that’s my life. A combination of maybe knowing what I’d like to do in the future, and then probably settling on some burgers and fries and a shake with some cat while I figure it out.

And that’s okay. Right? Right. It is, and I know it. I’m so tired of people asking me that question. Half of the time, I spit out some random words like I’m rapping, and then the other half of the time, I’m like, “I don’t know.” Then comes the psychological questioning after that consists of more responses that require me to further strengthen my reasoning of, “I don’t know.” (You people really aren’t going anywhere with this) And what’s even more annoying is that most think I’m rude when I’m like, “Yeah, maybe I like that but I’m unsure.” It’s like you’re all trying to impose your own dreams onto me and I don’t want your baggage or obsession with indie music that makes you want to start a band. I’m happy for those who have it all figured out, but here’s the thing: You probably don’t have it all figured out and that’s great that you think you do, but things change every single day and in ten years from now, where you thought you’d be, you may not be at. And that’s just this crazy thing called life.

So, here’s to all of you who feel inadequate for not knowing what you want to do in life or not having yet discovered a hobby that fulfills you, there’s TIME. There’s always time to explore, discover, start anew and realize what truly makes you happy. Sometimes, the beauty in life lies in this discovery and that journey and not the actual destination.

One of my favorite essays is “Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young” by Mary Schmich. This piece is brilliant in reminding us younger folk to really harness the power of youth, while boiling it down to one simple factoid: Wear sunscreen. However, one of my favorite lines in there is, “Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.” Our lives are constantly changing, and we can either choose to adapt or crumble. Therefore, to know exactly how your future will pan out is quite silly, because, well, you don’t know. If you can format time and manipulate this life to do whatever you want, then a big congratulations to you and I hope I can afford however much that app costs. But to those of us, who constantly get shit on for being so unsure of what our future really has in store for us, don’t worry. Look around you, because chances are, that person next to you is probably feeling the same.

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?

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?