t-minus six months

For years I've thought about the day I would graduate college. It's the pinnacle event of my education—the mark of the end of my formal schooling. And as with most other events in life, I always thought I'd feel different leading up to it than I actually do. 

Here I am—a semester and a half away from graduation—and I don't feel anything like how I thought I would. My life is nothing like I thought it would be. 

I thought I'd feel older, more mature, and more confident. I thought I'd have a more concrete plan as to what I'd do after graduation. I thought I'd have gotten my ducks all in a row and would emerge as a BYU grad ready to conquer the world. I thought I would have gotten over my slight reclusiveness and propensity to wear pajamas as much as humanly possible. I thought I would be more comfortable meeting new people and making small talk and forming connections. And to be honest, I thought things in the dating/marriage department would be drastically different from what they are now. (Non-BYUers have a hard time understanding that, but for y'all, let me just say that it's VERY common to be married well before graduation here at the Y.)

Granted, I have about six months to accomplish the above tasks, but seeing as I haven't been able to do those things in the three and a half years since my college career began, I don't have high hopes that I'll be able to whip my butt into gear and figure out all of my life questions before I don a cap and gown. 

I remember the anticipation of graduating high school. I was excited to the point that one of my high school friends reprimanded me for "not wanting to make the most of senior year" or something like that. The moment my BYU application was in, my interest in Randall K. Cooper High School flew out the window, and I wanted very little to do with it. Yes, I was sad to leave behind my friends, but I was ready to move on and to grow up some and to find my niche in college. I was never one of those "I wish high school would never end" kind of people. (And frankly, I think those kinds of people ought to have their brains checked out, because they're loco crazy.) I think a lot of my excitement stemmed from the fact that I knew exactly what was going to happen after I graduated—I was going to work for the summer and then pack up my belongings and haul them 1,600 miles across the country to Happy Valley where I would nestle in for four years of undergraduate education. I was nervous (change always fills my stomach with big bubbles of worry), but it was time, and I knew it.

I wish that I had that now. Because even though I'm sick and tired of school—the mere mention of grad school makes me want to hurl; if that does become part of the plan, it won't be for a year or two, so I have time to find where my sanity went—the thought of leaving the educational bubble I've lived in since I was six years old is a wee bit terrifying. I've been primed my entire life to be a student. I've learned to sit through classes and take tests and do homework and study until my brain feels like it will explode.

And despite the fact that I feel relatively confident that I have the skill set needed to be able to make a living post-grad, it's the job finding/plan making that scares the bejeezus out of me. Do I stay in Utah? Do I go back to Kentucky? Do I close my eyes and point map of the United States and go where ever my finger lands? Do I drop off the face of the earth, disregard the education I spent four years obtaining, and join a traveling circus? 

Honestly that last one sounds pretty appealing right about now. I'm sure I could teach myself to grow a beard or walk on a tight rope or put my head in a lion's mouth or something. I could marry the strong man, and then we could have buff little carnie children who would have very interesting talents (think of what you could teach them if you started young!) and no social skills to speak of. I see no problem with this plan.

But in all seriousness, I feel a bit like I'm floundering. Despite my aversion to grad school as mentioned above, in a strange way, I envy my friends who are going to be starting up school again next fall as graduate students. Because even though they have a thousand years of difficult classes ahead of them, at least they have a plan. At least they know what to do with the next step. But choosing my next step tends to fill me with anxiety, so I just ignore the decision making part until the anxiety about not making a decision outweighs the anxiety of making a decision, and I begin the whole vicious cycle over again.

So if there is anybody out there who wants to make major life decisions for me, now is the time to make yourself known. Unless the traveling circus thing actually works out, in which case, I am in no need of your assistance.