57 days
So here's where I am.
I'm sitting here in the Student Success Center, the only job I've had during the college time of the past four and a half years, looking out the window watching the Kappa Delta girls in their green letter jerseys load tupperware boxes of clothes into the backs of their Impalas and Talons and Civics and realizing that, while they're just loading up for the upcoming Fall Break, I'm going to be loading up for real life in 57 days.
That scares the absolute shit out of me.
Its finally getting colder here, and its going to get a lot colder where I'm going.
I got my first job offer a few days ago. I'd be writing features and following the Police Beat, as well as taking pics for the front page, for the Forest-Blade in Swainsboro, the same paper I've worked at the past two summers and the most recent Christmas break, where I, this summer, poured blood sweat and tears into the creation of a magazine that is the centerpiece of my resume at the moment. They want me to come back and be a permanent staff member. The thought of being a permanent anything is fucking terrifying, because in my life nothing has ever been permanent, but the fact that they're offering me a job that'll give me a chance to actually write rather than being a layout monkey for three years while I wait for the experience at a paper that would make me marketable to somewhere where I can actually create with my words rather than dummying and pasting and trying not to go insane.
But my parents are in Swainsboro.
The fact that the Forest-Blade's circulation is about 6,000 and the town itself is one of those small-town hells where everyone knows everything about you whether you like it or not is scary enough. But being that close to dear old Mum and Da? I don't know how I feel about that. In the past two summers and a break that I've been with the Blade, I've found that I censor my writing to a degree because the parents are rather high up in the community. If I'm going to go balls to the wall into this job and REALLY do it, I won't be able to self-censor. I just can't. Its not honest. As a writer, I can't stifle myself like that. But I can't help but worry about A) how their opinions of me will change when they see me in a professional capacity rather than a daughter and B) how my actions as a journalist and a person in the community will affect their roles in the community. Since I didn't grow up there, its a bit different. Eggshell walking is an art that I've perfected, living in small town after small town my entire life, but as a journalist I can't afford to be a tip-toer. I just can't.
But its honestly the best job offer I'm going to find.
For someone that has less than one year total of experience, a job where the higher-ups are actually going to trust me with assignments is as rare as the white stag, and now that I've found one, I think I'm almost morally obligated to catch it and make my wish (you're all familiar with the white stag, yeah? oh, pooh, just Wiki it for Chrissakes). Its the opportunity of a lifetime for someone just out of college, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into.
And yet...
I feel like I'd be leaving so much here unfinished. I don't even know what that means at this point. Its just a pervasive feeling of not doing everything that I should here before I leave. I guess it just stems from the fact that, ever time I've moved (which is a lot), I've never had a choice in the matter and I've always had to uproot and just go whether I was ready to close that chapter in my life or not. Here, I have a choice of sorts. I could search out a job here and do what I need to do, but then I'd lose the opportunity to skip a few rungs on the career ladder. I don't know how I feel about that.
Has anyone begun to notice how I've been orchestrating the circumstances surrounding my closest friends? I've been noticing, and then I realized I've been doing all this without really thinking about it at all. I'm slowly setting everyone up so that they won't miss me much when I leave. I've never had a chance to do that, but I've slowly been doing that to those I care about most. There's a few that I haven't been able to do that with, but the few that I've been slowly nudging around I think will be set for when I'm gone. Its like I've been thinking, in the back of my mind, ever since the semester started that I wouldn't be here after December, and I've been preparing everyone for that. I've also been preparing myself, it seems.
I've dropped the people I can't consider friends for one reason or another, and I've stopped putting up with bullshit and drama I'd otherwise politic my way through. I'm sure there have been things said about that, but I honestly can't be bothered. I want the people I care about to understand that I do care about them. They're the people I want to stay in touch with after I leave, after all. They're the ones that matter. I'm sorry if you don't make that list, but tough tittie. I don't have time to play the bullshit game and I can't be friends with people I'll never trust. And honestly, I can't really feel all that sorry for cutting people of that ilk out of my life. Its like pruning the dead tips off a plant. So for all you people that survived the purge, I HEART YOU HARD.
And that's where I am.
I'm sitting here in the Student Success Center, the only job I've had during the college time of the past four and a half years, looking out the window watching the Kappa Delta girls in their green letter jerseys load tupperware boxes of clothes into the backs of their Impalas and Talons and Civics and realizing that, while they're just loading up for the upcoming Fall Break, I'm going to be loading up for real life in 57 days.
That scares the absolute shit out of me.
Its finally getting colder here, and its going to get a lot colder where I'm going.
I got my first job offer a few days ago. I'd be writing features and following the Police Beat, as well as taking pics for the front page, for the Forest-Blade in Swainsboro, the same paper I've worked at the past two summers and the most recent Christmas break, where I, this summer, poured blood sweat and tears into the creation of a magazine that is the centerpiece of my resume at the moment. They want me to come back and be a permanent staff member. The thought of being a permanent anything is fucking terrifying, because in my life nothing has ever been permanent, but the fact that they're offering me a job that'll give me a chance to actually write rather than being a layout monkey for three years while I wait for the experience at a paper that would make me marketable to somewhere where I can actually create with my words rather than dummying and pasting and trying not to go insane.
But my parents are in Swainsboro.
The fact that the Forest-Blade's circulation is about 6,000 and the town itself is one of those small-town hells where everyone knows everything about you whether you like it or not is scary enough. But being that close to dear old Mum and Da? I don't know how I feel about that. In the past two summers and a break that I've been with the Blade, I've found that I censor my writing to a degree because the parents are rather high up in the community. If I'm going to go balls to the wall into this job and REALLY do it, I won't be able to self-censor. I just can't. Its not honest. As a writer, I can't stifle myself like that. But I can't help but worry about A) how their opinions of me will change when they see me in a professional capacity rather than a daughter and B) how my actions as a journalist and a person in the community will affect their roles in the community. Since I didn't grow up there, its a bit different. Eggshell walking is an art that I've perfected, living in small town after small town my entire life, but as a journalist I can't afford to be a tip-toer. I just can't.
But its honestly the best job offer I'm going to find.
For someone that has less than one year total of experience, a job where the higher-ups are actually going to trust me with assignments is as rare as the white stag, and now that I've found one, I think I'm almost morally obligated to catch it and make my wish (you're all familiar with the white stag, yeah? oh, pooh, just Wiki it for Chrissakes). Its the opportunity of a lifetime for someone just out of college, and I know exactly what I'd be getting into.
And yet...
I feel like I'd be leaving so much here unfinished. I don't even know what that means at this point. Its just a pervasive feeling of not doing everything that I should here before I leave. I guess it just stems from the fact that, ever time I've moved (which is a lot), I've never had a choice in the matter and I've always had to uproot and just go whether I was ready to close that chapter in my life or not. Here, I have a choice of sorts. I could search out a job here and do what I need to do, but then I'd lose the opportunity to skip a few rungs on the career ladder. I don't know how I feel about that.
Has anyone begun to notice how I've been orchestrating the circumstances surrounding my closest friends? I've been noticing, and then I realized I've been doing all this without really thinking about it at all. I'm slowly setting everyone up so that they won't miss me much when I leave. I've never had a chance to do that, but I've slowly been doing that to those I care about most. There's a few that I haven't been able to do that with, but the few that I've been slowly nudging around I think will be set for when I'm gone. Its like I've been thinking, in the back of my mind, ever since the semester started that I wouldn't be here after December, and I've been preparing everyone for that. I've also been preparing myself, it seems.
I've dropped the people I can't consider friends for one reason or another, and I've stopped putting up with bullshit and drama I'd otherwise politic my way through. I'm sure there have been things said about that, but I honestly can't be bothered. I want the people I care about to understand that I do care about them. They're the people I want to stay in touch with after I leave, after all. They're the ones that matter. I'm sorry if you don't make that list, but tough tittie. I don't have time to play the bullshit game and I can't be friends with people I'll never trust. And honestly, I can't really feel all that sorry for cutting people of that ilk out of my life. Its like pruning the dead tips off a plant. So for all you people that survived the purge, I HEART YOU HARD.
And that's where I am.