If someone else asks me what I’ll be doing or where I’ll be living six months after graduation, my head is going to explode like one of the mountains on Jessica Simpson’s face before Proactiv.
I’ll tell that them I’ll be holding up residence in the state penitentiary and when they ask why, I’ll tell them it’s my punishment for what I did to the person who asks me that question one more time.
But I can’t blame anyone for inquiring, really – it is a fair question. At least that’s what I thought before every family member and friend wanted the answer.
I spent the time between sips of beer at the bar on Thanksgiving Eve and bites of turkey the next day giving my short but sweet answer: I have no idea – followed by a chuckle, of course.
Too bad that’s a lie. I do have a plan. I just know that people are looking for the abridged version, and well honestly, I’ve always hated CliffsNotes.
Although I really do appreciate their concern, my four-word response saves my breath and their regret after they hear my lengthy answer.
However, you’d be mistaken to assume that fear of my future spawns my hesitancy to talk about it. In fact, I find that I feel anything but scared.
The instruction manual that brought me safely along the first 22 years of my life – the one that suggested high school, college and a job as the natural progression for a 21st-century man – suddenly no longer covers any of the new material.
After May 5, my life is a novel full of blank pages while the world and the experiences it offers will serve as the ink.
In two years’ time when it comes for me to be the maid of honor in one of my best friend’s weddings, I don’t know if I’ll be flying in from San Jose or driving up from Pittsburgh.
Whether I’m living the life of Patrick Demspey in “Made of Honor” – without the weird love triangle – on a week long-vacation from the west coast or on a weekend trip up from the west side doesn’t matter.
I’ll be ecstatic either way.
Despite my eagerness to enter the real world and start kicking butt, I still want to take time and enjoy things the way they are now.
As I looked around the poker table at 11 of my closest friends during Thanksgiving break, I realized that this is one of the last times I can say with near 100 percent certainty that I will see all of them again in a few weeks.
Why think about the times I’ll miss them when they’re sitting right there?
Why worry about waking up five days a week for a job when I only have classes on Tuesday and Thursday?
Even though I’m thinking of my future now, I won’t worry about it until later – something I wish everyone else would do.
With any luck this column will quell any concerns related to my future.
That is, until Christmas Eve when I see my dad’s side of the family.
