Like Rachel, I am also lingering in a state between done-with-finals and legit graduation. Ostensibly this means I would have more time for blogging than usual, or at least tumblring, but mostly I feel weird and bored and whiny all the time, and who wants to read about that? Not you guys. I don’t even want to. All of my problems are either made up, of the First World variety, or both. Which really should be a comfort, but in practicality, makes me (feel like a) worse (human being).
Example: turns out that listening/mouthing the words to “Total Eclipse” seven hundred times won’t make graduation go away, it will just make everything feel Even More Epic Than Before, and you will still have to buy your cap and gown for the price of $54, exorbitant considering you will never wear the thing again –– unless, as your parents and relatives suggest, you dress as a judge for Halloween, and let’s be frank, you could do so much better for Halloween. (I bought the cap/gown yesterday, but have not tried either on yet. I’ll get there.)
Also, your meal plan ends today, apparently, even though you have an enforced Senior Week that starts tomorrow. All you have to say about the subject is that there better be food at these SW events, because your minifridge is empty and all you have to eat in your room is a box of Total (sans milk) and a bag of sourdough pretzel nuggets to dip in hummus.
It is hard to know what to write in here lately, because objectively speaking there is not much to report from the front. For the last like, I don’t know, twenty-seven months or something this has been Thesis Complaining Headquarters, and I guess the time for that is mostly over. There is still some complaining to be done w/r/t the Post-Thesis Feeling of Emptiness and the Ennui and the Wondering If Other People’s Compliments On Our Finished Thesis Were Sincere, but those are such self-indulgent things to complain about that I kind of hate myself right now for even bringing it up.
Basically what I’m saying is everything is done? And for someone who’s been a pretty legit workaholic for the last twelve years of her life, (see Exhibit A, where I stayed up til 2 am in the sixth grade finishing my diorama about ancient Egypt) this is a weird place to be. There’s no homework, no long-term projects, I even did my course evaluations. There’s nothing to do except ruminate on this weird limbo period, to really immerse yourself in how artificial these two weeks of institutionally sanctioned relaxation and connection with your peers really is. It’s bizarre because it’s such an in-between time; when we’re both pressured to start acting like adults but also exhorted to enjoy these last few moments of uninhibited youth, because there’s never going to be another time in your life when you can take eight shots of tequila on a Wednesday night without getting put on a reality tv show about alcoholism. And it is bizarre! It’s so fucking bizarre! Tonight I drove through the back streets of my hometown in the dark listening to An Horse, which is about as fucking youthful as you can get. But the reason I was in my hometown was to borrow my mom’s car to pick up some furniture for my new apartment, the rent for which I will pay myself. While I was home, my mom made me dinner and made me take more food when I left because she doesn’t think I can feed myself, but all we talked about over dinner was my bills and the intricacies of my car insurance policy. It is weird to be doing these things all at once, you know? It makes me feel confused, which makes me upset, which makes me tired. Mostly it makes me want to spend the entire time until graduation like I am right now, which is unshowered and wearing pajamas and wrapped up in a blanket in front of my computer with lukewarm Swiss Miss.
Probably I should just go read And The Heart Says Whatever, Emily Gould was quoted as saying the people the book would appeal to were “twenty-three year old girls with tumblrs.” She did not say “with a lot of feelings about their elite liberal arts educations,” but I think it’s implied.
Also, to whoever found us by searching “I have feelings for my friend’s mom,” sorry dude. That sucks.