8/18/25

Tomorrow, before the sun has risen, I will awake to the buzzing vibrations that accompany my morning alarm. I will claw myself from beneath my sheets, and force my ankles and knees to bear my body weight before neither myself, nor they are ready to perform such a feat. Sluggishly, I will make my way toward the bathroom sink, brushing away the morning breath as well as layers of eye gunk and bed head that will undoubtedly be troubling me. I will apply a thin layer of mascara to hide the redness still lingering within my eyes, and crawl surely but slowly toward the Keurig. As the Lancaster Roaster's coffee brews, the scent of which will be my first and last hoorah of the day, I will scour Pinterest and my "business casual" dress code for a shred of inspiration on the day's outfit. Dressed, refreshed, and physically - not mentally - ready, it is now 5:30, and with a final puff of a Marlboro red, I start the car and embark on the 30-minute drive to my new job. 

Since the 29th of July, five restaurants, three retailers, three publishers, two cafes, one deli, one tea shop, and one florist have heard the beckoning call of a recent college graduate desperately seeking employment. Of those, there have been six responses, two of which garnered interviews, three of which said they were, in fact, not hiring, but would keep my name on file. Of those two interviews, both of which I got an offer from, one of which I accepted. The job market is a rough territory right now - evidence of this being that I just received a Bachelor's, and the only jobs I heard back from were almost entirely entry-level host positions. It takes time, commitment, an almost embarrassing level of confidence, and an unrealistic lack of anxiety. It takes looking the intimidating sales clerk in the eye and saying, "Hi, my name's Christian. I'm looking for a job, are you hiring at the moment?" and fighting off the urge to cry regardless of what they say in response. When I first moved back, I was determined to find a job, so much so that after that first weekend, I did very little else with my day beyond applying, calling, scouring, searching for anything I could work with - or for. And as determined as I was, there was a small side of me that was almost positive it would take at least a month for me to lock anything down. However, despite the job market, economy, or anything else I like to blame for my unemployment, there are rare instances of a quickly moving process - and that is where I find myself today. 

Not one full month after I moved home, I am not only hired, but actually starting my job. Due to some kind of stroke of luck, unlike anything I had experienced - much less expected - before, I found what is essentially the perfect situation. It is a job - that's bonus number one. It is also a job in fashion - that's bonus number two. It is a job in fashion, as a stylist, at a not-not-fast-fashion-but-more-upper-class-than-H&M-brand. It pays above minimum wage, I like the people I have met so far, I like the clothes that are sold there, and, thankfully, I'm actually somewhat excited to begin. But I simply was not mentally prepared for it to happen so soon. In the span of three weeks, I applied, called, interviewed, accepted, trained, and started. And now I know what the next year of life will be, just like that. Needless to say, I'm not upset that it moved so quickly; rather, I am quite pleased that after all the stress that has been placed upon my meek shoulders, attaining a job has been removed from them. However, much has changed in the last few months. Relationships have been dismantled, apartments have been lost to past memories, and friends have gone from the other side of my wall to the other side of the country in a matter of weeks. As happy as I am that everything seems to be working in my favor at the moment, there still exists a small portion of my brain that almost wanted that struggle for a while, if nothing else, but to give me the necessary time to adjust and be prepared for my new sense of adult living. 

A few months ago, I posted a blog about planning for the future. I wrote about how, for the first time, I am without reins, fully living my life however I want to, with no guide rails or fail-safe plan. I wrote about how, while I am someone who likes to plan in advance, which often makes me feel somewhat less stressed than if I were to go through life blind, nobody can truly ever plan everything. I wrote about how, at the time, my plan was to move home, get a job, save up, move to NYC, live with my boyfriend, see my friends every other weekend, and live happily ever after. However, what I wrote that did not get posted was a paragraph that I ended up cutting out last minute. It went something like this: "On the other hand, I could break my knee. I would have to quit my job, ceasing my efforts in saving up as much money as possible. I won't be able to visit NYC to see my friends, let alone move there, anywhere near as soon as I was hoping. My boyfriend will move there before me, and in his solitude, discover that NYC has plenty to offer in the way of eccentric and flamboyant androgynous-looking men. I will stay in Pennsylvania long after my leg has healed, and I will die alone, broke, and stuck within the walls of my mom's house. "

I had spent years trying to plan the post-grad life as thoroughly as I could. But as I wrote about the plan, the reality of it, and what it would actually feel like, it dawned on me just how much was unknown. I was going to get a job in food service, either at a bar or in a cafe - either way, I wanted experience for both, because both are crucial for an artist's survival in NYC. I had had a few options lined up, and a few I had to connect the dots on. Once home, I was going to visit some hometown friends, then on the fourth, I was going to spend some time with my boyfriend, before I locked in and started calling, interviewing, and eventually training at wherever I ended up. I was hoping to get just one job, somewhere downtown that I could bike to, and I'd work six days a week, making as much money as possible through my "e-commerce" ventures as possible. I would visit NYC in October to help Katie, Sully, and Escher get adjusted. But as I was writing, all the pieces that were reliant on other factors began to blare in my mind like sirens - and thankfully so. 

Within the first month of my living back at home, the plan I was once so confident about making happen has already diverged drastically from its pre-written path. The boyfriend I had, who provided a kind of softness to the harsh reality I was about to embark on, was the first to go, leaving my weeks of work uninterrupted by fun socialization or alternate uses of my time. Secondly, my job is about 30 minutes away, resulting in my ability to get there and back being a stressful factor beyond the acquisition of the job alone. Lastly, it is also not in food service, a bonus in the way of experience for my later career, but somewhat of a downgrade from the financial position I was hoping to find myself in. I knew for a while what life in PA would look like; no regular friends, no more gym, no more walkable downtown cafes, just a go-to-work-go-home daily routine until I have saved up enough to embark deeper into adult life. Initially, I was very excited about the premise of "locking in" for one full year, but now without the creature comforts that once made it seem manageable have more or less dissipated, the next 365 have a much different hue to them. That is not to say I'm dreading it, in fact, I remain quite excited to begin - aside from the hour in the day that I am required to wake up. 

This is a new chapter, and despite a lack of reliance on what I had specifically planned for this period of my life, it is still not far off. I will work when I have to, and see my friends when I can. I will continue to write, and to create, and to do what I love doing so long as I am allowed the freedom to do so. It goes without saying that I am nervous. The commute is not something I was prepared for, and neither is working a shift at 6 am, but I think I would be crazy if these things did not weigh on my mind at least a little. If nothing else, the shift in what I had wanted for this next year of my life, vs what it will most likely become, is a learning lesson for how to go with the flow. How to live in the discomfort and work with what I am given. I won't have my crutches, and I won't have ease of access, but something I will have is something that very little could take away from me: my will. I still have my eye on the prize, and no amount of bitching, moaning, or early rises is going to prevent me from getting there in the end.