Get ready for a long rant, guys. And it’s basically stream of consciousness, so it’s not very structured. Sorry, no haiku or iambic pentameter while I attempt to get my thoughts down.
In less than 4 days, I will be starting my new job at Brown! For the first time since I was in kindergarten, I am finally categorized as something other than just “student,” “intern,” or “ridiculously good looking” (the last one is up for debate).
But getting a job also means no more student discounts on movies, gym memberships, computers, flights, or free 2-day shipping from Amazon.com (well, without feeling guilty about it). I have taken advantage of all of these perks except the free 2-day shipping which I mention because it has single-handedly bankrupted Scary. Also, no more sitting in the student-section at football games. Does Brown even have a football team? I think we should hire Muschamp to make a face to motivate Brown into a national powerhouse!
I feel like I’m getting kicked out of a club. And, trust me, I know exactly what “getting kicked out of a club” feels like. I guess you could say that I have this childish fear of growing up (pun intended, it’s “pun-ny” and funny). I’m excited about moving out and getting a job. I can’t wait to meet new people and learn clinical techniques. But, at the same time, people will hold me accountable for saving lives! I’m not trying to be dramatic about it, but people are counting on me to cure cancer. It’s a lot of pressure! Now I know how House feels every Friday on Fox at 9/8c.
And also, everyone is married. It’s kind of cool to go to a few weddings single, where you can work on your pick-up technique. I have noticed a lot of these weddings are between people who met in college – not through STUPID online dating. But, really, a wedding is a celebration and you should be going with someone you care about. And while you’re there, a true romantic would probably try to catch the garter. This is an example of what I usually do when the garter comes anywhere near me.
I try to move out of the way subtly and occupy one hand with something (preferably High Life) so that even if it comes my way, I can’t catch it: I don’t think it counts if it bounces off me. Now, I want to point out a few things in this picture. First, some white dude is wearing an orange vest. Secondly, well that’s it.. I don’t recall him running game very successfully that night – I wonder why.
I feel like I should be like the guy in the grey shirt who’s getting boxed out. Now, he looks like he’s desperately clawing for love. Or, at Dan’s wedding, this guy Shaq-ing Scary out of the way. Or the guy ready to run in from the right. Again, notice my careful positioning out of the way of the garter.
I have realized that this isn’t really a rant, I think I’m having my quarter-life crisis. I guess it isn’t as bad as a mid-life crisis. In fact, they are pretty much opposite. My quarter-life crisis involves eagerly starting a job for money and finding someone who is the love of my life. On the other hand, a mid-life crisis involves eagerly starting the job of finding someone who has the love of my money.
As my sister said, “In the end, we’re all just taller children.” UPDATE: I’ve just been alerted that this was taken from a song by Elizabeth and the Catapult. Great name, band. Come up with something creative like I know Shquonda would.
Anyways, I’m done venting. I’m just going to stop stressing about huge life events. If there’s anything I’ve learned from music, it’s that people who spend time worrying too much end up do that miss out on life. And also, don’t ever break up with Taylor Swift because she will write a song about you. And everyone will know it’s about you.