Educated Guesses

Tag: adulting

  • School’s out forever?

    School’s out forever?

    I drive to work in the cold 50 degree shiver of the morning. I’ve started wearing sweatshirts outside of my house and turning on the heat in my car. Leaves are beginning to scatter on the ground, forming a collage of oranges and reds that mixes in with the few green leaves that are left. 

    It’s September in every sense –– it’s written on my mom’s whiteboard in the hall, highlighted on my phone lockscreen, whispered in the crisp breeze. But, this September is different from all my Septembers before. 

    Every fall used to be so exciting. At the first trace of summer’s end, my mom would take my siblings and I to Target to pick out school supplies when we were kids. We would bring lists from our school that required us to have items like glue sticks, pencils and loose-leaf paper. I picked out binders and composition notebooks with colorful patterns along with a fresh JanSport backpack. We all browsed the aisles for new clothes to match our fluorescent Converse, bows and clips to pin our hair back with, and socks that would eventually all get lost.

    Even though summer was ending, fall always felt exciting. It was something new –– a new grade level, a new school, a new season of sports. Things felt different in the fall. It felt like the second season of a TV show. The cameras were rolling again, featuring new and old cast members each year. It was a clean slate –– a new chance to learn and make friends and figure out who I wanted to be.

    And then college came and the fall was even more exciting than before. There was dorm room shopping and apartment shopping and buying kitchenware that had no business being in a college apartment. There were football games to look forward to and parties and bar crawls. After long summers of working and saving money, the fall felt like it was all worth it. I was back with my friends, in this new place that became home.

    Every fall also had a new stack of classes. Each year of college, I found myself loving my classes more and more. I took poetry classes, french classes and even a class on alcohol my senior year. Yes, some were hard and had strict professors who assigned long papers that I struggled to hit the word count for. But, I never hated that part. I knew that the boring homework would eventually be over, and a new semester would begin.

    This fall, and September, is obviously different. I’m working as a bartender, trying to find a journalism job and avoiding “back-to-school” TikToks as much as I can. I keep falling victim to Penn State football videos or “two years ago” photos on Snapchat that remind me of my former college life. I should be there, I think to myself. I should be doing homework. I should be tailgating at 9 a.m. I should be in school. 

    But I’m not. I graduated. I finished my very last year of school and have no plans for grad school. It’s weird to think about my kindergarten self getting lost in my elementary school, and how I thought school would last forever. 

    I’ve always thought about the day school would be over –– no more homework or tests or papers. I dreamed of it sometimes. I prayed for it to come during my high school AP exams. And now, I’m here and it’s hard to know what to do with myself. My body is not used to not being in school. I have this sudden drive to do something, to learn something, to write my name and date at the top of a page, but for what? My muscle memory is all confused and wondering why I don’t have pencil-dents on my fingers.

    What do I do with all that academic validation now? I guess I will have to start leaving grades on my blog posts instead. 

    How do you feel about school being over? Let me know by emailing me: gingerlyons23@gmail.com:)

  • My New Roomies: Mom and Dad

    My New Roomies: Mom and Dad

    Since moving home, my mom and dad have become my new roommates. Similarly to my college roommates, they often ask me to get dinner together, watch movies and chip in on the house chores. But, unlike my college roommates, they try to tell me what to do. I still get detailed lists of chores from my mom in the morning telling me to do them before she gets home. Yes, I can help out with cleaning up around the house, but our relationship is beginning to change. 

    In college, I figured out how to live, clean and cook on my own without the help of my parents. Now that I am home, I am still that independent person, just now with my parents constantly asking me to switch the washer and dryer. 

    But, the biggest problem in our relationship now is how they respond when I get upset about things. When I was young, I would cry about stubbing my toe, girls being mean at school or my brother shooting his Nerf gun at me. My parents are used to the 12-year-old Ginger whose tears were usually not that big of a deal. 

    Whenever I would be frustrated or emotional at school, my roommates always had receptive responses. They would say things like “it’s ok to be upset,” or “your feelings are valid.” I felt comforted by them even just listening. 

    Now, with my roommates being my parents, their responses to my tearful rants are not quite the same. 

    The other day, in the midst of a mental breakdown in front of my mom, she told me, “Ginger, I don’t feel sorry for you.” This line –– one that I’ve heard a million times –– sent me back to second grade. My mom used to perpetually say, “I don’t feel bad for you” whenever I cried over her not buying me a toy or saying I couldn’t hang out with my friends. 

    Why would I want her to feel sorry for me? I was just being honest about how I was feeling about post-grad and how it is difficult sometimes.

    But, my mom doesn’t see the same 22-year-old that my college roommates did. She sees a girl who cries easily over simple obstacles. She remembers when I called her sobbing after soccer practice –– she had thought I got into a car accident. I actually just had knee pain. 

    She definitely has some PTSD after that and many other similar incidents. So, I can’t really blame her.

    The “I don’t feel sorry for you” line comes from many years of my parents teaching my siblings and I gratitude. It was used when we didn’t get our way. Another signature line of theirs was “there are people who are starving who would love that meal,” often used at the dinner table when none of us would finish our meals. In case you are wondering, all three of us are part of the clean plate society now. 

    And yes, I feel my parents have taught me to be grateful for things. My parents are two of my favorite people, and have given me so much to be grateful for. They have supported me through everything, even my tears over my knee pain, and have always pushed me to be my best self. 

    But, when I am in the midst of a mental breakdown, the absolute last thing I wanted to hear was, “I don’t feel sorry for you.” That definitely made my blood boil. I wasn’t crying over my dinner, I was crying because I was frustrated and ranting and needed someone to listen.

    So many relationships in our lives evolve over time. Friendships drift or become stronger. Young love becomes adult relationships. But our relationship with our parents, I would argue, is the one that changes the most. Our parents have seen us in diapers, in clothes that we would eventually “grow into” and in graduation caps and gowns. They’ve disciplined us when we misbehaved, caught us when we were sneaking out, told us “no” when we needed (but didn’t want) to hear it. So now, as adults making our own decisions, our parents’ final say no longer applies. Their time as a disciplinarian has expired.

    So, what is our parents’ role now? While yes, since I am living in my parent’s house without paying rent, I guess they can still yell at me about the cups that I’ve been holding hostage in my room. But, I need my parents to be listeners. When I get frustrated or upset, I don’t need them to try to teach me a lesson. I need them to hear me –– to understand what I’m going through because they have been there too. Also, I don’t need them to tell me what to do in these situations, but rather tell me about their own experiences and what they have learned. I have to be the one making my own decisions, not my parents. 

    This transition from parental authoritarians to advising peers is difficult for both parents and their adult kids –– but having these conversations can help make living at home a little bit better. Or at least, that’s what I have found. 

    Let me know your thoughts about the changing of parental roles by emailing me: gingerlyons23@gmail.com or leaving a comment:)

  • The Desire to be Uprooted

    The Desire to be Uprooted

    When you’re in school, you always know what’s coming next. When you are in seventh grade, you know you will be going into eighth the next fall. There is always a sense of security in knowing where you will be. Even when parts of life are changing, this notion of school is always a constant. 

    Of course, there is uncertainty when college comes around. Do you want to go to college? Where do you want to apply? Where will you get in? What degree do you want? All of these questions crop up senior year of high school, or sometimes earlier. I remember feeling uncertain –– of feeling like a plant being ripped out of its own soil to be planted somewhere new. And eventually, after nights of major mental breakdowns about leaving my childhood bedroom, it was all ok. It ended up being the best thing for me.

    In college, I learned that it was ok to be uprooted. That being planted somewhere new was wonderful and exciting. It was better to grow somewhere else than hide in the shadows of what was comfortable. 

    Now, I’m back in the shade of my childhood bedroom. My old plastic soccer trophies stare at me from my bookshelves –– curious as to why I am back. I wish so badly to be uprooted again, to be taken to another unfamiliar place where I can feel the warmth of the sun and grow. But for now, I am stuck here, surrounded by golden figures in cleats and shin guards.

    There is no 17th grade for me. There is no grad school in my forward view and that’s ok. But it’s hard not knowing what is next yet, especially when my job hunt has gone from fine to desperate. After several rejections and being ghosted from jobs, my experience that I was once proud of feels weak and flimsy. 

    Every year in school felt like a new step toward my post-grad goals. I did new projects each year, took on leadership roles and got better grades in my classes. By the end, I felt successful. I felt like everything that I did in college will somehow, miraculously, give me a job the summer after I graduated. But my sister goes back to college soon, and in just a few weeks the leaves will begin to change color. 

    Even so, there is some comfort in knowing that at this time next summer, my life will probably look completely different. Maybe I will find a journalism job that I like, or work in marketing, or work some crazy job that I have no idea about yet. Maybe I will be in New York City or in a random city I never thought I would live in.  

    There is comfort in knowing that I will be planted somewhere else eventually. And isn’t that exciting? While my internal clock is freaking out that I don’t have a job yet, part of me (a very small sliver) knows that it will happen. I just need time.

    What are your thoughts on where you will be next year? Let me know by emailing me: gingerlyons23@gmail.com 🙂

  • I Survived My Last Weekend at Penn State (Barely)

    I Survived My Last Weekend at Penn State (Barely)

    I made it home last night at 11:30 p.m. with a rolled ankle, empty McDonald’s bag and a duffle full of sweaty clothes. Did I cry when I left? Yes. But, I had a wonderful last weekend there. 

    In my last blog post, I mostly talked about the sad parts of this final weekend –– and there were sad moments and many “lasts.” But, there were fun, silly and light-hearted moments too. So, let’s talk about them.

    Do you know what’s underrated? Knowing that you have enough money in your bank account to cover a few vodka sodas. I happily handed my credit card over to the bartender many times this weekend, rather than scrambling together dollar bills. Maybe living at home and saving money isn’t so bad. 

    Next, there is no feeling like being in a crowded bar, standing way too close to people you are sure are crop dusting you, and seeing a table become available. And on Friday, that very thing happened to me. 

    I was walking to the bathroom when I saw a group get up from one of the booths. No, not just any booth. I’m talking about the corner booth right next to the window that is a little sectioned off from the sea of standing people. I immediately ran to sit down at this table and texted my friends to come over. This made our night even more magnificent than it already was (and I had just eaten some really great mac and cheese that night, so that’s saying something).

    Now, this one I know is a popular one, but a morning debrief never fails –– especially over bagels. Dressed in t-shirts and flip flops, my friends and I (all experiencing some form of hangover) stopped to get bagels and collected ourselves. 

    It felt like no time had passed since we had last been together. We laughed, talked about “Love Island” and nibbled at our bagels together. While I knew this would be our last weekend in State College together for a while, I pushed that thought out of my mind and embraced the simplicity of our morning. 

    I also saw a lot of my other friends out at the bars while I was there. It was fun to hear about the different jobs people were taking or what higher education options they were considering. But, the best moments were when both of us agreed that we had no idea what we were doing. 

    While living at home, it’s easy to forget that so many people are feeling the same things as me: lost, lonely and underqualified. It felt nice to be surrounded by people who are trying to figure things out the same way I am. 

    The nights lasted until the early morning, with pitchers of sweet drinks, zippers and lime slices cluttering the table. I squeezed my friends tight –– in digital camera photos and outside of them. All of us, grinning and making sad faces that this was our last weekend together for who knows how long. But, the fact that we were together was what really mattered. 

    Overall, this weekend I kept having this thought: it felt good to be known. Throughout the weekend, the song “dorothea” by Taylor Swift hummed in the back of my head, repeating the lyrics: “And if you’re ever tired of being known / For who you know / You know, you’ll always know me.” 

    Being home can be lonely sometimes. It doesn’t have the same comfort that my college town had. I used to see so many people walking to class, at the grocery store or at the bar. I would wave to them, say hi or give them a hug. Now, in my own hometown, there are so many strangers. 

    It was still sad to leave State College for the last time as a resident, but I know I will always know these people, and they will always know me. And I’m so grateful for that. 

    Let me know your thoughts, comments and questions by emailing me at gingerlyons23@gmail.com or typing down below.

  • One Last Weekend

    One Last Weekend

    This weekend, I am going back to my college apartment for the last time. My last month of rent has been paid and it’s time to move the rest of my things out. 

    I’ll dismantle my lamp with shelves that used to hold textbooks and college ruled notebooks. I’ll wipe down my bathroom mirror –– where my roommate and I used to write little notes to each other –– with Windex. I’ll take home the dirty toaster that my roommates and I used to make 2 a.m. pieces of toast with. I’ll dismantle our gold bar cart, with shot glasses and open bottles of liquor and leftover seltzer cans.

    I’ll take home all of my bed sheets, pillows and leftover winter clothes. My closet and dresser will sit empty, waiting to be used again in August by somebody else. My walls will be ready for the next college student to decorate them with Command Strips and their own photos. My own Command Strip residue will be all that remains.

    Each piece of me will be packed into my car, leaving the blank canvas of this apartment for someone else to fill in.

    The banner hanging in our living room from graduation will be taken home –– the pomp and circumstance lingering faintly. All the blue and white frosting has been gone for two months now. It’s been two months. Two months of something new and lonely and exciting and terrifying. Two months of being an adult.

    But, this weekend isn’t all sad. I’ll be back with my friends, laughing in the familiar lights of our college bars. I’ll wake up in my apartment this weekend, probably with half of my makeup still on and an urge to rot on the couch with an everything bagel surrounded by my friends. 

    I’ll feel the warmth of State College and its people, and maybe sit on a porch with summer country music blasting loudly. I’ll sit back and embrace that this was once home.

    In an incredibly uncomfortable time, it will be nice to feel a sense of home in the midst of job applications and a whole Google Drive folder full of cover letters.

    Just like the scene in “Gilmore Girls,” when Rory graduates from Chilton and Lorelai says to her, “it’s not so scary anymore.” While Penn State was once a big leap I took at 18, now at 22, I no longer feel the same nerves or doubt. 

    This weekend, I’ll feel joy about what happened here. I’ll smile as I say goodbye, and gently close this chapter –– one that I’ve spent so long writing, scratching through and editing. It is now, officially, finished. And thank god I got so many friends, memories and lessons from writing it.

    Let me know your thoughts, comments and questions by emailing me at gingerlyons23@gmail.com or typing down below.

  • The Next Chapter Starts with a Rejection Email

    The Next Chapter Starts with a Rejection Email

    It’s been about six weeks since I graduated and let’s just say this isn’t funny anymore.

    After I graduated in May and came back to live with my parents, things have felt extremely different. Every summer while I was in school, I missed my friends who lived hours away, but I knew it was only a couple of months before I would see them again. But obviously, this year is different. Facetime, texting and TikTok sharing have become my main form of communication with my long distance friends –– holding tight to those strong bonds that were formed when we could see each other every day. 

    I’ve adjusted myself into a routine at home now. I workout in the morning, lay around for a while and then work as a bartender in the evenings. While it’s no typical day at Penn State, I am able to stay busy while saving money (I’m saving so much money from not going out it’s crazy).

    But, when I drive to the gym or have a free second at work, I think about all the mundane things I miss about college. I get glimpses of my walks to class through the changing seasons. I think about sitting at the kitchen table with my college roommates as we all made dinner at once. I think about the thrill of school when it was August and still warm outside and football games took over every weekend.

    POV what my Snapchat AI thinks my life currently looks like

    In between shifts at work, I’m trying to apply for journalism jobs, learn how to budget my money and what rent I’ll be able to afford when I move out. I have to think about buying furniture and having new roommates and what transportation I’ll need to factor in. This is substantially less fun than scheduling my classes and figuring out what outfits to wear to home games. 

    I know there is so much ahead of me now, and that school is only a small portion of my life. But, I can’t help but think about how my life at Penn State ended and this new life that I’m trying to achieve has so many challenges before it can even begin.

    Sure, I now have a degree and a resume with some substance to it, but how do I turn that into the life that I want? What even is it that I want this new life to look like? (Cue “Roots Before Branches (Glee Cast Version)”). 

    There are so many changes that are going to happen in the next year, which I am excited for. I’m just not sure how to make those changes happen. 

    I began to seriously start applying to jobs this week and got my very first post-grad rejection email –– which I was weirdly excited about. While of course I was hoping to get to the next round of interviews, it felt nice to be at least noticed enough to receive a rejection email. Because I have heard so many stories of people getting ghosted by companies they applied to, a rejection email felt ok (at least for now, ask me again in a month and I’ll probably say something different). 

    Maybe this is where my next life will be born –– out of rejection and adjusting and feeling uncomfortable.

    This email is just the start. But at least I am here, locked in this roller coaster just hoping I don’t throw up over the edge before I land back on the ground.

    Let me know your thoughts, comments and questions by emailing me at gingerlyons23@gmail.com or typing down below.

  • Post-Grad Scaries and Growing Pains

    Post-Grad Scaries and Growing Pains

    Hello everyone. This is my very first blog ever! I can’t even believe I’m saying that. I recently graduated from Penn State, where I was a part of the school magazine (shout out VALLEY Magazine). I wrote articles on news, pop culture, TV shows, movies, self-improvement, food, beauty products and tons of other niche topics. Now that I have that Bachelor’s degree, which is sitting on my nightstand waiting to be hung up, I am creating something on my own.

    To be honest, I feel super awkward and uncomfortable doing this. Even the process of coming up with a name for this blog was daunting. Each name that I typed out on a Google Doc I ended up deleting –– erasing each quirky-Millennial-feeling name that I came up with. I finally landed on “Educated Guesses,” which was the least gag-worthy one I wrote down.

    But also, a big part of my struggle to come up with a name for my blog was deep-rooted in a fear of seeming cringey and weird. Even as I type out this very blog post, I worry about what others will think. Will anyone even read it? Will my writing be laughed at? Will people I don’t even know find my writing bad?

    All of these thoughts circle my brain as I type, making my palms all clammy and my frown lines beg for early botox injections. But now, I have that shiny journalism degree that will fend off all of those bad thoughts… right?

    Wrong.

    What is this silly piece of paper even good for if not to solve my mental health issues?

    Regardless, I paid for this WordPress account which means I actually have to follow through on this blog idea. Time to jump right into this ice-cold swimming pool known as adulthood. The water is definitely not fine.

    Whether this blog becomes wildly successful or a stream of articles that only my mom reads, I have to remind myself that that will be ok. Learning and failing and making changes is part of this whole post-grad thing –– I’m just trying to get used to it.

    So, if you would like to hear more from me about the lessons I learn as a 22-year-old-post-grad-warrior-princess, follow along with my blog weekly! Welcome to Educated Guesses.

    Let me know your thoughts, comments and questions by emailing me at gingerlyons23@gmail.com or typing down below.