It wasn't that I wasn't proud of myself. I was. Some crazy statistic was thrown out at my ceremony that less than 1% of the world has a college degree. But I still wasn't focused on my accomplishment, I was focused on the "What now?" factor--the huge step one takes from graduating and getting a "real job", or making the decision to attend grad school. I was also
fearing loathing dreading panicking about the wait that comes with it--the length of the transition into adulthood.
Sometimes it's easier than other times to take a step back, look at everything I've done, and realize that in ten years I'm going to appreciate when I've been knee-deep in Adventureland syndrome, the confusing point in time consumed by being broke, wondering if life will be spent making ten bucks an hour serving others, and facing disappointment when realizing that graduating college isn't all it's cracked up to be.
And why will I appreciate this?
Because Achievement is just a word for the product of impatience, anger, fear, dread, and a shit ton of hard work.
And then, when I realize this, I realize that I'm dealing with Adventureland syndrome in more ways than one.
Can you guess?
Come on, just try.
So maybe I can appreciate the drafts and drafts and crying and impatience and rejection letters and rejection letters and rejection letters and hard criticism and the waiting and the twitter feed that tells you how EFFING WONDERFUL the publishing industry is ONCE you're cool enough to take a blood oath into it. Because who knows? Maybe I'll find a hot Kristen Stewart-esque girlfriend on the way.
Or just a bunch of kickass writing buddies and knowledge about the pub industry I wouldn't have been searching for if I just went out there and pulled a Stephenie Meyer.
And knowing the cake tastes better the longer you slave in the kitchen.
Is that enough to toughen up and stick with it? To dwell in the pain while it lasts?
You tell me.