Post college, pre anything

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Life is painfully strange once college is behind you. Suddenly your paths of opportunity, both mowed and weeded, morph into a complex jungle of uncertainty. Your once clean cut path has become an endless maze of opportunity. You can travel, you can settle into a career, you can consider marriage, you can bum around, you can move out, you can adopt a cat, you can pick up a hobby, you can go back to school, you can open a business, you can run for congress, but which is the right option for you? You’re entitled to try everything you’re offered, very well knowing or unknowing of failure or success.

I am employed by SouthCoast Media Group, owner of various print products and digital services, where I coordinate the marketing and community events. If this was the 50s 60s 70s or 80s then I’d be rich. People would be like wow you must have not graduated from Southern Massachusetts University, now Umass Dartmouth. Present day Marketing and Community Relations Coordinator for a newspaper screams “do more.” On the bright side, which should always be considered, I have a lot of responsibility. A shrinking industry leads to a shrinking staff and anyone left standing gets to wear a new hat. A majority of those I work with see this as a burden, but I’ve altered my opinion into more bang for my buck. Buck in reference to my resume. That’s what it all comes down to for us millennials. What we did, who we did it with and how well we did it. My coworkers are outstanding and my workload can be fun, but as I tell everyone “it’s not forever.” When you are certain of this from the start, there’s always the looming question of what comes next? Graduate school is an option considered by many of us, myself included. I was rejected. Before I considered grad school, I considered different fields of advertising. Both fields I was referred to from within two different companies. Both of which I was qualified and enthused, confident, hopeful and rejected. We’ve all been rejected and we can universally agree that it feels horrible. I cried after each rejection, two within my cube. Good looks. Those who cared told me “it wasn’t mean to be.” How cliche, but you know what? How true. That statement didn’t need much convincing. My mindset altered and suddenly the commute from Wrentham to New Bedford to Wrentham to Boston seemed laughable. Jokes on you, Ames.

Rejection is a part of life. Opportunity is too. Our life will only crumble to nothing if we allow it. Minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day we control the puppet strings. We don’t take a break. We choose our steps wisely and take that jump prepared to fall,  knowing we have one shot to put on a damn good show. I’ll be fine.

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