Anyone who has interacted with me on a personal level or read my columns with some sort of frequency (Hi, Mom) knows that the gaping void known as ‘post graduate life’ has terrified me for some time now. From that fateful Preview session during which I was delicately reminded to keep the job market in mind when picking a major, to those recent sleepless nights spent torturing myself with questions like “Do I really want to go to law school?” any thoughts about the not-so-distant future have resulted in more anxiety than excitement.
Maybe it’s the images of student loan agreements dancing in my mind, or maybe it’s my post-grad friends telling me to cherish every moment of college — that there’s little to look forward to outside the city limits of Gainesville. Regardless, I’m not about to pretend like the remainder of my 20s is free of the fear that I might not reach my own definition of success. This is a new fear — one that I didn’t experience during the transition from high school to undergrad, as I had spent the majority of my life building up college to be my academic Promised Land. I knew I’d refer to college with the same longing, wistful tone my mother had when telling stories about high school. So where does that leave me now?
As I draft personal statements, schedule interviews and request letters of recommendation, I still feel as if law school and post-grad life are simply mirages, something I’m planning for but won’t actually experience. Similarly, that distinct senior year nostalgia continues to evade me. The closest I’ve come to grasping it are those moments where I’m overcome by the desire to memorize every facet of a scene, preserving it forever so I can return to it at some point in the future. I’m overwhelmed by the vague feeling that each day is fleeting, turning into a memory before I even realize it.
The majority of my conversations with casual acquaintances and best friends alike revolve around future plans, despite those plans being mostly intangible and elusive. Some of us may have job offers lined up, our next 10 years laid out in front of us. Others may not even know what state they’ll be living in come next year. I find myself in the latter camp, struggling to embrace the uncertainty despite my inescapable desire to make plans far in advance.
But shouldn’t we be embracing this uncertainty, this blissful ignorance of what’s to come? It all comes down to perspective and an active choice to either fear or revel in the looming void. Every senior is feeling a unique combination of identical emotions — namely distress, anticipation, nostalgia and superiority — so let’s find comfort in the common experience. I’m sure the reminiscing and shrieks of “This is our last (insert collegiate activity here)!” won’t reach full force until Spring semester, but by then we’ll hopefully have some semblance of a post grad plan, something to look forward to and knowledge that we’re moving on to better things.
I’ll be the first one to admit my life has been one continuous cycle of anticipatory anxiety followed by the subsequent realization that said stress was completely unnecessary. We all tend to underestimate our own resilience, and we should hold onto that as we face the deluge of job searches, graduate school applications and concerned parents. Senior year is a lot of things, but boring is not one of them. So take a deep breath, hold onto your sanity and relax, because this year is going to be the best yet.
Marisa Papenfuss is a UF English senior. Her column appears on Tuesdays.
Anyone who has interacted with me on a personal level or read my columns with some sort of frequency (hi mom) knows that the gaping void known as ‘post-graduate life’ has terrified me for some time now. From that fateful Preview session where I was delicately reminded to keep the job market in mind when picking a major, to those recent sleepless nights spent torturing myself with questions like “Do I really want to go to law school?,” any thoughts about the not-so-distant future have resulted in more anxiety than excitement.
Maybe it’s the images of student loan agreements dancing in my mind. Or maybe it’s my post-grad friends telling me to cherish every moment of college, that there’s little to look forward to outside the city limits of Gainesville. Regardless, I’m not about to pretend like the remainder of my twenties isn’t tinged with the fear that I might not reach my own definition of success. This is a new fear, one I didn’t experience during the transition from high school to undergrad, as I had spent the majority of my life building up college to be my academic Promised Land. I knew I’d refer to college with the same longing, wistful tone my mother had when telling stories about high school. So where does that leave me now?
As I draft personal statements, schedule interviews and request letters of recommendation, I still feel as if law school and post-grad life are simply mirages, something I’m planning for but won’t actually experience. Similarly, that distinct senior year nostalgia continues to evade me. The closest I’ve come to grasping it are those moments where I’m overcome by the desire to memorize every facet of a scene, preserving it forever so I can return to it at some point in the future. I’m overwhelmed by the vague feeling that each day is fleeting, turning into a memory before I even realize it.
The majority of my conversations with casual acquaintances and best friends alike revolve around future plans, despite those plans being mostly intangible and elusive. Some of us may have job offers lined up, our next 10 years laid out in front of us and close enough to touch. Others may not even know what state they’ll be living in come next year. I find myself in the latter camp, struggling to embrace the uncertainty despite my inescapable desire to make plans far in advance.
But shouldn’t we be embracing this uncertainty, this blissful ignorance of what’s to come? It all comes down to perspective and an active choice to either fear or revel in the looming void. Every senior is feeling a unique combination of identical emotions — namely distress, anticipation, nostalgia and superiority — so let’s find comfort in the common experience. I’m sure the reminiscing and shrieks of “This is our last (insert collegiate activity here)!” won’t reach full force until Spring semester, but by then we’ll hopefully have some semblance of a post-grad plan, something to look forward to and know that we’re moving on to better things.
I’ll be the first one to admit my life has been one continuous cycle of anticipatory anxiety followed by the subsequent realization that said stress was completely unnecessary. We all tend to underestimate our own resilience, and we should hold onto that as we face the deluge of job searches, graduate school applications and concerned parents. Senior year is a lot of things, but boring is not one of them. So take a deep breath, hold onto your sanity and relax, because this year is going to be the best yet.
Marisa Papenfuss is a UF English senior. Her column appears on Tuesdays.
