I'm a senior. I don't have a job. And I'm terrified of a world that doesn't accept Lion Cash and doesn't have an inbox overflowing with e-mails from my career adviser.
Graduation is right around the corner and even if this May doesn't mean the end of your time in Happy Valley, it will certainly be a reminder that doom is impending.
Many of my recent activities have reminded me that my youth is drawing to a close.
This past Friday I took a trip to the Big Apple for the "Success in the City" career fair with the College of Communications -- and was that ever a slap in the face. I don't like wearing a suit and pretending I know what "media buying" entails. Everyone else looked as discombobulated as I did, waiting nervously to talk to a recruiter holding a portfolio full of resumes.
An hour before we were scheduled to meet the bus, everyone on the trip could be found across the street in the bar, looking disheveled, clutching a glass of wine. Welcome to the life after college, my friends.
I also took note to the other patrons. While many looked like recent college grads who were enjoying a $10 glass of house Chardonnay, I was especially intrigued by the naughty little affair taking place between a 60-year-old sugar daddy and his supple little secretary with lipstick smeared across her teeth. I thought college guys could be shady but this was a flat-out reminder that the creepage doesn't stop when you graduate.
After this little taste of the "real world," I was determined to milk these last few weeks of glorious college debauchery. Although I had my heart set on a frat party, the night after my career search, I ended up in at a random apartment -- which was almost as good. After a rather frustrating phone conversation, we located our "friend of a friend" on a darkened street corner and he led us into an apartment. Upon realizing he did not live there, we wandered around the complex and finally located his lovely abode.
Downstairs, a beer pong table constructed out of a large door and cinder blocks filled the entire room, while the many young men at the party planned their assault on the five girls that were present.
A red solo cup was thrust into my hand and I was shoved up the stairs toward the almost-kicked keg on the balcony. Then I returned to what seemed to be a living room where some kind of heated video game was being played. I plopped down on the damp couch and soaked in the scene.
I was almost oblivious to the gentleman beside me who spilled his beverage in my lap as I reminded myself that this was probably one of the last times I would be enjoying a free beer.
The relief of graduation will bring with it the stress of the real world and I don't know if I'm ready for it. I like my beer luke-warm and served in a plastic cup; I don't think I'm mature enough to have a drink with my boss after work.
For all of you who are as terrified of leaving Happy Valley as I am, I suggest we cherish what's left of our time as college students. Even if you aren't graduating, you've probably completed at least one year of your Penn State tenure, and that in itself is upsetting. Soon we will be thrust into a society where expectations are high and missing work requires a legitimate excuse. But until then, bring on the keg stands and the bar tours -- I have four weeks of irresponsibility left and I plan to make the most of them.

--Mary