I am, by almost 10 years, the youngest person in my office. It’s kind of a shitty position to be in, because even though I am not the lowest on the ladder, I get treated like I am simply because of my age. Grunt work is often assigned to me when it shouldn’t be, and I’ve had a difficult time getting some of my directors to respect the fact that I am a college graduate and it is not in my job description to answer phones or send faxes for random people in the office or take old phones to the storage unit. That said, every Friday I can’t wait to go home for the weekend and spend some quality time with people my age.
The only problem is people my age are still in college. Most of my friends are actually in their last year, about to finish up, and they can’t wait to graduate. While I’ve never been a big partier, this weekend made it very clear to me that I am no longer in college.
I (somehow) ended up at a party at a sorority sister’s house with two of my closest girlfriends and some miscellaneous hangers on. It became very clear to me very quickly that I was the oldest person in the room. Which, to my credit, is a fairly difficult thing to do at 22. But when you’re drowning in a room of college freshmen and sophomores drinking 40s and doing the best they can to refute the statement that leggings are not pants, it’s hard not to notice the differences between you and them.
I was never big on house parties in college, and I am even less of a fan of them now than I was then. It’s just a bad mix of booze, underage kids, and drunk driving. House parties never end well, and I’m kind of glad to be (almost) done with the phase of my life that included house parties in the weekend itinerary. Bars in my rinky dinky college down are almost out of the question, with drunk jocks, nerds, and frat guys fulfilling the “creep” stereotype to the best of their abilities. I don’t feel safe going out for drinks with the just the girls because one or all of us will inevitability attract a frightening large man who just doesn’t take the hint when we say “fuck off”. But, still, I prefer the bars to house parties, because at least I’m not 3 years older than everyone else in the room. I don’t have to sit and listen to the stereo and realize that these college kids are playing music that was recorded before they were born - at least I could talk.
The scarier thing for me is kids who were born in the 90s - as in 1990 and later - are starting to attend college. Now, I may only have been alive for half of the 80s, but I’ve grown quite accustomed to knowing people born in the 80s. Now the 90s? It’s just all too weird for me. I’m not that old, but I sure am starting to feel like it. What’s it going to be like when I start grad school in the fall? Will I start hanging out at the grad student bars in town, instead of my favorite college hang outs? And what will happen if I don’t get into college? That’s a reality I am not prepared to face… at all.
Maybe I’m having trouble adjusting because I graduated college so young. I was only 21 when I graduated, which isn’t a big deal because everyone younger than me will be 21 when they graduate, but everyone who graduated with me is 22, 23, 24, or even 25. It doesn’t seem like that big of a difference, but it really is. I look back at myself when I was 19 and going to house parties and I was just as young and stupid as the girls in leggings were at the party I went to on Saturday. I’ve never been a big partier, but I’ve had my fair share of drunken debacles. I guess you never realize just how different you are from everyone you thought was the same as you until you are shoved into a room with a large group of overly drunk half naked constituents.
I always say that I miss the college life, and I do. I am a very academic minded person, I love being in school. I enjoy reading and highlighting and going over notes. Nothing makes me happier to receive a good grade on a well written or well argued paper or assignment. I belong in academia and I know this, I’m working towards becoming a professor everyday of my life. I have the sneaking suspicion that when I go back to grad school in the fall, things will be very different from the way they were in undergrad. I won’t be part of the sorority anymore, even though I’ll probably keep most of the same friends. School won’t be just school anymore, it’ll be my career - literally. I’ll be working on campus, and I’ll probably be teaching some classes. How I do in graduate school and the outcome of my years of blood, sweat, and tears (aka my dissertation) will basically depict the rest of my life. College won’t be fun anymore, it’ll be serious, and part of me is really excited for that.
But at the same time, I know I’ll never escape the peril of being surrounded by a bunch of silly 18 year old girls in leggings, cut offs, and 5 inch platform heels.
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