Time to grow up, kid
July 21, 2009 by Linsey Rendell
Filed under Features, Latest
Sugar High: Here's hoping graduation puts a smile as big as this guy's on my dial... Photo: CarbonNYC
Linsey Rendell is freaking out
Mum says I’ve always been an adult. From the moment I stole her makeup and drew panda patches around my 2-year-old eyes. But in a few months I actually have to grow up. I hit 21 this year – the age where you can drink in every country, as scripted on many of my birthday cards. But even with the party, presents and showering attention, it was a dull affair. What’s the big deal? Nothing changed much. Aside from being more of a grandma, staying in when it’s cold, unmotivated to peel off the blankets and put on dancing shoes… and I love a good boogie.
In a few months I graduate. I’ve been eagerly waiting for the day I put on my pink CI sash and finally start living. It means getting to do what I love and being paid for it. I’ll be employed full-time, I’ll be earning lots of money, and I’ll finally get to travel, eat cuisine more exotic than toast for breakfast/lunch/dinner and treat myself to an unnecessary item every now and then. Sounds blissful, but there’s a catch – how to get the job. Because what looming graduation actually brings is stress and a weighty reality check.
We’re in a recession, uni informs us journos get paid lousy wages and the thousands of graduated and redundant alike are applying for that lone available position that you want. How the F do I get from being ‘girl with a degree’ to legendary writer/journalist/editor/author extraordinaire? Somebody please explain this puzzling pathway to me!
I can apply for non-existent jobs, offer my pen for free, and keep calling the editors of magazines and newspapers until they finally accept my 100th call and, fingers crossed, take me on. The thought of all of this though is daunting, depressing and downright scary. I’m on the cusp of executing one of a billion possible career opportunities, and turning life as I know it topsy-turvy.
I’ve decided that in the meantime all I can do is try my hardest and put into gear a quality I normally struggle with: patience. Greeting this last semester one day at a time, I aspire to take my steps slowly – like an annoying-but-cute flower girl who places lone petals centimetres apart down the aisle – towards the day grad (or a job offer) arrives. It’s going to be excruciatingly painful for this stubborn Taurean. But hopefully the good kind of pain, like the ripening of an orgasm. That’d be nice.