Hello blog readers! If I have any followers, I applaud you; y’all are some loyal sons-of-a-gun because I haven’t posted anything since before my birthday in July. Sorry… But I’m back now! (sidenote: No, I’m not really.) Look, I’m a college student okay? I am writing this while I’m supposed to be studying *You see the theme? Posts when I shouldn’t be posting?* for my Psychology of Women exam but I have been in the library–not at school, just in the library–for going on eight hours now and I’m pretty positive I’ve hit my saturation point. One more chapter to read, and frack it, I’m going home and probably picking up chicken wings on my way there because I have had a PopTart and a cookie to eat today and I’ll probably start gnawing on my Kindle soon because it looks like a delicious big blue sandwich and now I’m hungrier and off topic. What I was going for was the fact that I’m a graduating senior *yay! I SAID “YAY” FOR ME INTERNET!* and I’m taking a number of classes that keep me quite married to my laptop/backpack and getting constantly bombarded with advice THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN HELPFUL 2 YEARS AGO about what to do and expect when I graduate and how I’m never going to make enough money to survive AND pay Sallie Mae back and how I really should have majored in business or been smarter and pursued an engineering degree like my sister wanted me to. And I didn’t even spell engineering right. *bangs head on desk, effect somewhat lessened by sheer volume of dreadlocs* But hey, its all good because that brings me right to this post’s point: how being a senior in college, and probably high school, is like being 7 again.

Now I know what you all (what, I have like 3 readers twice a month?) are thinking. “Musique23, you’ve been in the library too long and the stress of learning about modern sexism has broken you.” Well you’re wrong, 3 readers! Actually, you may be right, I am quite overstudied at the moment… But hear me out anyway. The question that I by far hear the most is, “So what do you want to do after you graduate?” Seriously, my top heard phrases these days are “Hello,” “How are you,” “What did you do this weekend,” and “So what are your plans after graduation?” In all actuality, I have no idea. Psychology graduate school is NOT going to happen (we won’t talk about my dreams of being a music or sex therapist went so wrong. Also, that combo would have been AWESOME!). In an ideal world, I think I’d like to be an editor: read books all day, correct them of their grammatical mistakes (seriously, whomevers’ jobs those are: you are slipping), send notes back to the authors about changes and either recommend or reject them from publishing. I would get paid to read and drink hot chocolate in baggy shirts! I’m actually calling this plan D, not because I have to go through my other options first, but because I don’t really know how to get to that point. At all. Will I need another BA, this one in English? *I would totally be willing to do that.* In a practical world, I’ll apply for a job with the UAW and also put my feelers out in the city I hope to move to, but I have no concrete plans. And that isn’t the point of this post! Quick, ignore the last 10 lines so I can get back to my glib point!

See, the thing about being asked what I’m going to do after college EVERY 5 MUTHA FRACKING MINUTES is that it triggered a memory in the deep reaches of my brain. (I don’t know what they’re called, if I were good at biology I would probably be pursuing a Bachelor of Science instead of a Bachelor of Arts and probably wouldn’t have this issue cause I’d still be on my failed-because-frack-biology-that’s-why premed track.) When I was just a wee lassie, EVERYONE asked me one question: What do you want to be when you grow up? Teachers, my sister, family members, friends of my parents, other kids; you name them, they asked it. I think I got asked that question at least once a month. I had a lot of potential future occupations over the years. This is what I remember, in as close of order as I recall: Ballet dancer, stripper (look, I just knew they always were portrayed as having singles [for the vending machine] and they seemed kind of magical and powerful. Why can’t I write/study about THAT in my Psych of Women class?!), astronaut, President, scientist who would discover the cure for cancer, Broadway actress, opera singer, psychiatrist, musical therapist, sex therapist, UU minister, and finally, currently, someone who was done with school and had a full time job and her own insurance. (And possible future senator: it’s just an idea I throw around my mind like every other day.) (And also a writer. I need more followers so I can accurately judge my potential/talent.)

When you’re seven and you’ve just mastered the tying your own shoes thing, the world is your oyster. You don’t even know what oysters are or what that expression means and its still your oyster! And, in theory, that’s the situation when you’re finishing up in school. When I was 17 and applying for colleges, I had no idea what was going to happen in my future, but I knew it was going to be great and I was going to crush it! Oh, to be 17 and full of spunk again! *Dirty joke registered and deleted with the comment “But some of my friends…” left for inappropriate chuckles* And to be honest, I needed some of it. *SOME of it, life; I think I’m strong enough now, thanks, you can stop throwing stuff that could kill me …* Learned some life lessons, sun rose again when I thought my life was over, grew as a person, met some cool people, sang a lot of karaoke. (Learned the signs that the guy you’re dating also likes guys! Undervalued but still important.)

And now I’m at that point again. May 2015, unless I seriously frack up (in which case you all will never hear from me again because my mother has honestly threatened to kill me if I don’t graduate by the end of the year), I will walk across the commencement stage and be done with my academic journey. *For now. I fully intend on getting a Masters and hopefully a PhD someday.* Once again, I’m at a point in my life when I can try to decide what I want to be when I grow up. And I find it flipping hilarious! *Whoops, you thought I was gonna be all serious! I have to keep you on your toes internet, keep you guessing! …and I’ll [probably] be serious later, as is my style.* 18 years later, and I’m still getting asked what I want to be when I grow up! If I didn’t know when I was 7, why would I know when I’m 25?! Sometimes, I wish the world were like “Futurama” and I could have an assessment that let me know what I would honestly be best and happiest working as. Then again, that hand chip piercer thingy looked quite painful and I already have enough holes as is… *In my EARS you hentai! Three piercings in my EARS!*

Because you see, I really, honestly have absolutely NO IDEA what I want to be when I grow up. *And don’t give me that mess about how no one really knows, parents/sister and boyfriend! All of you are employed/retired and have at least your first secondary edumacation degrees already!* Honestly, part of me wants to drive a truck across country, because why the hell not? Careers discussed by my psychology advisors, aka the people who have been out in the real world with their undergraduate psych degrees and now what my prospects realistically are: customer service advisor, waiter, retail manager, hospital administrator, and graduate student. I kid you not, they don’t even know! One of the leading factors in me choosing psychology as a major was that I didn’t want to sit in a cubicle all day. Now, I honestly don’t care. I, Musique23, have absolutely no idea what/who I want to be as an adult. And it stresses me out. Until it doesn’t. See, I tend to get a little tunnel-visiony about the future. I skip right over the class tomorrow and stress that I won’t find a nice guy to marry in Philadelphia. Jump over the MEAL I SHOULD BE EATING RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND and right into how am I going to save up money for retirement. One of my biggest obstacles is focusing on the present. And I am determined to do that. I don’t know what I want to be when I grow up, and I don’t care right now! All I can do is worry about my here and now. Whether or not I find a job in Philly is out of my hands at the moment. (However, if any of my readers know of any upcoming jobs for recent college graduates with psychology degrees, absolutely no real work experience other than movie ushering/condiment standing, and a starting salary of six figures, please feel free to leave a comment. And a moving stipend. Philly is far and my car is old…) I am going to retreat into the innocence of Musique of old, and believe that it will all work out as I munch on Doritos. *No, seriously, they had a sale on Doritos at Kroger’s. And it brings my title back into play so roll with it!*

Because push come to shove, stripping really is still an option.