6/2/25

Somewhere between the demise of youthful optimism and the beginning of a 9-to-5 job is the period after college graduation. 

Thankfully, in large part due to the sheer anxiety I feel when considering the latter portion of my life, I've spent most of the last four years planning in anticipation of this exact moment in time. I've known what career I want to work towards, what jobs to attain between now and then. I know where I want to live and when I'm going to move there, and I've already begun saving my pennies and counting my quarters to make that happen. My five-year plan has coexisted with the previous four, and extends well beyond a point one can realistically plan for. The downside is that, unlike the majors of medical, legal, or financial fields, a degree in fashion is much less streamlined in the way of career acquisition - who would've known? A fashion degree is, like any artistic area of study, much more difficult to train for one specific role, especially when attained from an institution that does not have the facilities to do so. You learn the basics -  how to sew, make patterns, illustrate, design, write - slowly piecing together the information you'll need to then do your own research to possess the experience you'll need. That's the one bonus I feel I've garnered throughout the years. Despite the obvious challenges, being driven almost entirely by fear yields some benefits in the way of thinking about every possible outcome in many given situations, one of which being how to properly prepare for my career. Three weeks in, this Summer has largely centered on this concept. What jobs to work, and how to get them. Polishing and publishing my portfolio. Making sure everything is presented - including myself - in the best and most professional way possible. However, while my career is and should be at the forefront of my mind, there is much more that leaves ample room for reflection on the last few years of my adult life. 

In August of 2022, I packed every earthly possession in my vicinity, boarded a flight that took me nearly 3000 miles away, walked into a leasing office, and got handed the key to the first apartment. Three years later, I have already begun packing up the objects I have collected over the years that have decorated its walls, and am preparing for another move that will inevitably leave me without ever stepping foot into the same apartment again. If someone had told me in 2022 that this would be the apartment I lived in for the remainder of my college tenure, I simply would not have believed them. It had roaches, more non-functional outlets than functional, fans that operated freely despite light switches clearly designated for their powering on and off, and more stories than I care to reflect on. It's seen losses, police officers, new cats, old boyfriends, tears and hugs and goodbyes, and reunions. I've never been very good at saying goodbye, but with people, there is a layer of comfort that phones and social media offer - continued connection despite hundreds of miles of distance. The things that I truly struggle to depart from are the things that cannot be communicated with beyond the emotional significance they will continue to have. As cheesy as it sounds, the apartment I have lived in for the last three, arguably most significant years of my life to date, is the clearest example of "If these walls could talk". 

While college itself is a substantial period in anyone's life, my experience relating exclusively to the University was such that I don't find many tears welling in the corner of my eyes at the thought of it being over. It's the memories made outside of classes, when the homework had been submitted and life was simply what I made of it, that twang at the heartstrings. In some of the most substantial ways, Phoenix has been my home for the entirety of my adult life, which is strange considering that there was very little time spent considering staying here any longer than what was required of me. In fact, I hated it most of the time. The heat in the Summer makes me instantly angry, the bugs that never seem to fully die have embarrassed me in my own home, and the people here are meaner and weirder than any group of people I have ever had the misfortune of being stuck with. But every day I would wake up and walk to get a coffee from Lola or Badass or Songbird. I would greet my roommates, who have become some of the most important people in my life, with a solemn "good morning" followed by little to no additional conversation. I would walk to the Saturday Market and get a loaf of sourdough that I would inevitably consume in its entirety within the following 48 hours. Despite my disdain for the city, and my love for the memories made within it, I have no plans of returning any time soon, only adding to the bittersweetness of the next two months. 

On July 29th, 2025, I will pack up the last four years of my life into two checked bags and a carry on, board a plane, and leave every person, place, and thing that has shaped me into who I am today behind for the foreseeable future, taking with me only what I can remember, and the person I will inevitably become as a result. Right now consists only of the former, and that is where the tension of this Summer resides - after the work and before the benefits, we're all existing solely within the liminal space between the two. Luckily, within the last year alone, I have made even more of my senior year than any of the previous years combined. I have a plan for the exact moment I land back in Pennsylvania, and will work my ass of, saving up both time and money before beginning the rest of my life. And thankfully, one of the smaller but most profound benefits I have yielded is the friends who will be doing it along with me. Even though I wont be in this aparment anymore, tidying the living room before walking to Songbird and greeting the friends I get to see each and every day, I will be waking up in an apartment of my very own, stopping to get a coffee at some small cafe on my way to work, before meeting with my friends for an early, post-work dinner. It will be a very different portion of our lives, defined by its separation from the rest of it, but we will be doing it together, and that is what I am most excited about.