We are now 8 weeks into the New Year. I can say that I have successfully made a blog post once a week 8 weeks in a row.

This is the point when most people have already given up on their resolutions, but are now giving something up for Lent. I think it’s interesting that Lent comes around at the time when, if you’re like me, you’re trying to forget about whatever New Year’s resolution you’ve made; but that’s beside the point.

The point I suppose is how are you doing on your New Year’s resolution? If you don’t do the resolution thing, then how are you doing on your goals?

One of my goals was to start a blog and keep it going by posting at least once a week. So far, I can check that off of the list.

Another goal was to read the Bible cover to cover. I found a good reading guide and in a year’s time I successfully read the entire Bible. That one can also be checked off of the list.

A couple of goals yet to be completed are: to be published and to donate my hair.

I’ve been growing my hair out for quite some time now. I haven’t cut it in a year. Whenever I get up the nerve, I’m going to have it cut and donate the discarded hair to Locks of Love. Every time I think I’m going to call and make the appointment, someone says “Oh your hair is so beautiful.” I smile and say thank you and postpone my hair cut yet another week.

Anyway as I conclude my eighth week of posting with rambling of little meaning, I want to encourage you to keep up the good work with whatever you are planning towards.

I wrote an essay shortly after having an epiphany not too long ago. I submitted this article to a couple of different publications. Of course none of them wanted to publish it. So I’ll post it here. At least someone can read it.

“I Graduated. Now What?”
Graduating from college was one of the proudest moments of my life. It was something that I had worked very hard for over the span of four and a half years.

To me, like most college students, graduation was a relief. No more studying, or writing papers. No more sitting in class and pulling all-nighters. No more stress and being broke. As soon as I walked across the stage and received my diploma, I felt free. I was ready for the next step in my life.

My professors had done an excellent job in preparing me for life after college. I had been given the skills I needed to be successful in the job of my choosing. Some of my professors even went the extra mile to do an entire course devoted to interviewing for a job. I took lots of notes and read the books. I thought I was ready.

I knew finding a job was not going to be easy. I was expecting to go on several different interviews before landing “the” job. I thought I was as prepared. I wasn’t worried. I knew that I would get the job of my dreams because I was meant to do something great with my life.

After graduation, I got married. Two months later, I officially started my job search. How hard could it be? I was a college graduate. Because I was thinking big, I was applying big. I located some the most prestigious companies in the city where I lived and sent cover letters and resumes. It was a big step for me to actually send out that first stack of resumes. Although I was excited about the possibilities, I was also terrified. I studied up on all of the company information so that when they called me for an interview I would be ready. To my surprise, no one called. Days went by, then weeks, then months. Nothing.

Almost six months after graduation, I changed my tactics. I started looking at the job postings for different companies. I started applying online. After a couple of weeks, I was finally getting responses, and landed my first interview. My outfit was perfect, I had studied the company information, and I had practiced my potential interview questions. I went in to the interview very confident. The interview itself went very well. My interviewer seemed impressed by my resume and portfolio. A week later, I went back in for my second interview with them. Again, they seemed impressed with what I had to offer and told me that I would hear something from them by the end of the week. I was ecstatic. There was nothing left to do but wait. And wait. And wait. Two weeks later, I still hadn’t heard anything. No one returned my calls or email. Obviously, I didn’t get the job. I was devastated by the rejection, but more importantly frustrated with the fact that they never called to tell me I didn’t get the job.

A month later, I landed another interview for a job similar to the one I had previously interviewed for. Again, I had the perfect outfit, I researched the company, and practiced answering interview questions. I was interviewed by my potential boss. She liked the fact that I had a degree and was very excited about my resume. She had all but told me I had the job, when she announced that I had to meet with the district manager. The district manager “interviewed” me briefly in the middle of a crowded office. It was very loud and chaotic. I got a call from my interviewer the next morning saying that the district manager didn’t think I was ready for this kind of position. I was sad, but I was fine. Something would come along.

Over the next several months, I had applied for around thirty jobs and interviewed for about five of them. I got rejection after rejection. I eventually changed things up when I interviewed. I wore a different style of outfit. I tried being less prepared. I tried being more prepared. I wore my hair up. I wore my hair down. Nothing changed. I was still not what anyone wanted. I even started applying for jobs that I didn’t even want. My expectations had dropped significantly. I was no longer dreaming big. I was just hoping for anything.

It had now been over a year since I had graduated from college. I still did not have a job. I was embarrassed. All anyone ever wanted to ask is what I was doing these days or did I have a job yet. All of my college friends had landed jobs. Some of them had already gotten their dream jobs. Everyone was moving on without me.

I had not planned for this. I knew it would be hard, but this was unbearable. I had never felt so rejected in my life. I felt worthless. Eventually, I stopped looking for jobs at all. I sat at home all day, every day, while the world outside moved on without me.

In the midst of my depressed state, I read a quote that changed everything. It was “Keep true to the dreams of thy youth” (Friedrich von Scchiller). I pondered this quote for several days. What did I want to do with my life when I a kid? Before college and stress. Before I did what I thought other people would want me to do. I went into my closet and got out a big box that held all of my journals from grade school through high school. There, in the closet floor, I read. I read for hours. I read about all of my past hopes and dreams. And in the floor of my closet at 3 am, I finally figured it out. True, I was never going to be a country music star like I had wanted when I was 10, but I could be a writer. I had wanted to be a writer since I was in the seventh grade. So, I got up off my closet floor and started writing. I made it a priority to sit at my lap top and write something almost every day. I figured someday, one of my ramblings would lead to something.

I heard someone say “you’re as happy as you make your mind up to be.” I was miserable and I was doing nothing to change it. I had just sat in the house day in and day out feeling sorry for myself. Nothing was changing, because I wasn’t changing it. I decided to look at my time away from work as a blessing in disguise. Because I wasn’t working, I had time to do all of the things I had always wanted to do, but never had time for. I started reading for pleasure, something that was very rare while I was in college. I had forgotten how much I loved to read. I started sewing more, making several beautiful garments. I had always loved taking pictures so I started doing that more too. I even took a ballet class. I was still looking for and applying for jobs, but I had changed my attitude. I found that doing things that I liked to do made me happy. My attitude changed, and so did my possibilities. I was meant to do something; I just had to find it.

I know there are more college graduates out there just like me. Even if you think you’ve got it all figured out, often you don’t at all. It’s okay if you feel lost after graduation. A lot of people feel lost. There is something out there for everyone. Sometimes it shows up early and sometimes it shows up later. I tried to give up, but I’m glad I didn’t. I went back to what I loved as a child and I decided to be happy with my situation. I am still very proud of my degree that I worked so hard for. And no one can ever take it away from me.

As I have previously stated, I really had no plan for my life and career after my college graduation. As I pondered this the other day I realized that this lack of planning ahead was not a new development.

I tried to think back and remember what it was I wanted to be when I grew up. As a small child what did I aspire to be?

I’ll admit that I was a weird kid. My career goals changed weekly from outrageous to bizarre. Between wanting to be a cop after watching Police Academy and wanting to be a comedian after watching Ray Stevens, I wanted to be a country music star.

I can’t forget my quick interest in medicine or my brief fascination with teaching Language Arts at my former middle school. One career aspiration that did latch on for a while was archeology. After watching an episode of Reading Rainbow in the third grade, I decided that my life goal would lead me to all of the corners of the world uncovering ancient artifacts. As I entered high school I learned that archeology was in fact science, and not my best subject.

With my archeology career over before it ever began, I turned my attention towards a subject that had always been in the back of my mind; writing.

In high school I went out for the school paper, eventually landing the role of “co-editor-in-chief.” I spent my senior year writing and editing. I loved every minute of it. I even covered middle school basketball for the local hometown newspaper.

Before I knew it, I was in college and trying to find a major. I had noticed the heavy competition in the journalism program and decided that a cut throat environment wasn’t for me. For whatever reason, I never considered a career in journalism after that.

I looked back at my random collection of jobs. None of them made any sense. I had never applied for a job that would actually take me anywhere.

After my short run as a sports writer, I worked for a women’s fitness gym, followed by being a lunch lady for summer school, a score keeper for little league baseball, then a sales associate for a horrendous retail store, followed by goat keeper at a pumpkin patch, then finally a student worker for the health care center on the campus where I went to college.

None of these jobs would lead to another. No wonder I didn’t know what to do next; I never had a plan to begin with.

Maybe I was never meant to have a plan. For the first time ever, I currently have a job that I could potentially be a future career. I still don’t know if it’s the path I should take. I suppose if it is meant to be, then it will be. Until I figure it out I guess I’ll stick to what I do best (at the moment); sell previously owned designer clothes to bargain shoppers.

As an angry teenager, I couldn’t wait to get out of my parents’ house and be on my own. I had seen it in the movies; the young single girl living in a city on her own. It looked like so much fun.

Although my parents had taught me about money, I had never really had any of my own. I had never really had to pay for anything before. I was lucky enough to have parents who paid for everything.

At 18, when I left for college to be on my “own,” I still had the cushion of my parents’ money. My parents told me not to get a job right away. I think they wanted to make sure I could handle college without the added stress of working and financial responsibility. Even though I was away from them, I still didn’t really know how to handle money. Then I met Brooke.

I met Brooke the first day of college. We became friends and ended up living together in the dorm sophomore year. Brooke had worked since she was 16; paying for her own car and insurance. I was amazed. She knew about bills and how to manage them. I had never even seen a bill. She was very smart and money savvy.

Brooke took care of me throughout freshman and sophomore year. She was so self sufficient. She knew how to take care of herself. Because I was oblivious to the real world, she helped me along. She always knew just what to do. I didn’t think I’d ever be as smart as she was.

When we felt that living in a dorm had run its course, we decided we wanted to live off campus together.

Though my mother was against it at first, Brooke assured me it would be a savings from living in the dorm. Brooke was right. She presented me with an Excel sheet listing the cost of living in the dorm versus the cost of living in an apartment. She factored in food, gas, and rent. According to Brooke’s calculations, it was a savings. With my mother’s blessing, Brooke and I set off on our apartment hunt.

Actually Brooke did the hunting. She researched apartment complexes around town within our price range and geographical radius of campus. By the time we visited our first potential apartment, Brooke knew the possible rent amount (split between us of course), how many miles it was to campus, and the estimated time it would take to drive to campus (with or without traffic in rush hour).

Even though it was the first apartment we looked at, we loved it. As we stood in the two bedroom model apartment, I was already decorating it in my head. In the middle of deciding a color scheme, something caught me off guard. Brooke began asked the manager questions. What about trash pick up, water, utilities? What’s included? What’s not?

Trash pickup? You mean the trash man doesn’t come get your trash out of the goodness of his heart? You have to pay for that? Water? Isn’t water free? Utilities? What are utilities? My head started to spin. The manager answered her questions. Apparently it was what she wanted to hear because we signed a lease and moved in.

Over the next couple of years, I learned a lot from Brooke. I was starting to learn how to pay bills and how to take financial responsibility. By the time we finished college and went our separate ways, I had complete confidence in myself to take care of myself financially. I now find myself explaining to my little brother about trash pickup, utilities, and water expenses.

While I did learn a lot about money from my parents, I think it took seeing someone my age being so financially responsible for it to really set in. I grew up thinking my parents were the only ones who knew how to pay bills. I realized that people my age and even younger were taking care of their own expenses successfully.

I credit my parents and Brooke for getting to me to the point I am now.