I’ve been sitting here (in Buffalo) for the past week basically not doing anything. Seriously. It’s killing me. All my final papers were handed in last week…now all I have to do is sit here and twiddle my thumbs until graduation (Sunday) and moving back home for the summer (also, Sunday).
In an effort to kill time I’ve taken to the following:
1. Redbox movies: At $1 per night I’ve easily spent $20 in the past week…and yes, I only kept each movie for one night.
2. Magazines: You name it, I’ve devoured it. From slightly embarrassing: Glamour, Cosmopolitan, Elle, Women’s Health, Nylon, Vogue, Teen Vogue. To moderately embarrassing: Vanity Fair, SPIN, AP, Paste, Scientific American. To the “socially acceptable”: Time, Newsweek, The New Yorker, New York Magazine, Rolling Stone, National Geographic, The Economist. I’ve read pretty much every May issue of every magazine that one can find on a news stand.
3. Reading “Inside New York 2010” in an attempt not to suck at living in the city.
4. Googling new hair styles. Have yet to find anything good…and I’m getting desperate, my hair is a hot mess.
I suppose what I’m getting at with this nonsensical list of, well, nonsense, is that I’m ready to move on. I feel like–as I’m facing graduation–the past four years have been a lot of “hurry up and wait.” You want to have fun in college but you also want to fly through and get on with your life, and for the longest time I was so ready to leave school and be a “real” person. Two weeks ago, however, I was clinging to UB and my friends for dear life…but now I’m back to being antsy. I’ve changed my mind more times than John Kerry.
I have mixed feelings about moving on. I’m excited, SO excited, to FINALLY be living in the city that I’ve known I’ve belonged in ever since my grandmother would take us to see the Rockettes at Radio City. I remember walking around New York with her after the show and being in complete awe. I told myself one fateful Saturday of my adolescence standing in front of FAO Schwarz that I would move to New York City and never look back. I’m ready to do just that, though I was my grandmother was here to see me finally do it.
But I’m also terrified.
I keep having these dreams where the Columbia Journalism School Dean calls me and tells me that my acceptance was a horrible mistake…or that I show up to orientation only to find Ashton Kutcher and some mean-spirited ex-“co-workers” yelling “YOU GOT PUNK’D!!!” I just don’t want to show up at orientation being the “idiot” from a SUNY. I want to know I was accepted for a reason–which obviously I was–I just need to believe that.
But it’s really not surprising. I’ve always been unsure of myself and I’ve always needed constant validation for everything I do. (Case in point: I asked my mother several times what she thought of my senior column. Her opinion matters to me the most.) It’s how I am. I don’t know if I can change it, but I’m sure going to try–and I hope honing my skills at Columbia will help.
I’m having one of those life quandaries. I’m excited-terrfiied. I’m excerrified. I’m territed. I’m killing time until I can move on.