See, what had HAPPENED, was....

...I graduated eighteen days ago. As in, I walked across the stage, shook Dr. Hartford's hand, didn't trip, knocked over Peggy's hat, and then left Dorton Arena no longer a student of my beloved alma mater (I kind of hated typing that), and a newly motivated, unemployed, coral-dress-with-pockets citizen of the world. So, for the past two weeks and four days, this has been my routine:

8:45 a.m.: Wake up to my alarm and turn it off.
9:45 a.m.: Wake up to my alarm and turn it off.
10:45 a.m.: See the time, and literally roll out of bed because now it's just getting pathetic.
11:45 a.m.-1:00 p.m.: Job-search and start screaming at one point because my ring is pointed outward.
1:30 p.m-maybe 3:00 p.m..: Schelp my stuff from my apartment to either my dad's house in Cary or my mom's house in Garner. Really, whichever house has the best food/coffee supplies at the moment.
4:00 p.m.-5:30 p.m.: Go to the gym/maybe go walking with Hilary
6:30 p.m.: Attempt to socialize with Thathi, but quickly get aggravated when she asks for the millionth time why I am not enrolling in nursing school and why I am leaving for Los Angeles.
7:00 p.m.: Dinner. Usually a toss-up between hanging out with the fam or driving insanely fast to Raleigh where my friends are.
10:00 p.m.: A text from Dad, merely starting with "Hi," but meaning, "WhereareyouwhatareyoudoingwhoareyouwithIamafraidyouaredoingrebelliousthings." All said in a jumble.
11:00 p.m.-2:00 a.m.: Job searching, YouTube research, Facebook stalking, and contemplating my life on a too-small twin bed in my closet-sized room with a broken AC.

Hilary and I were so enthusiastic when school was about to end: "Our post grad lives are going to be THE BEST!" And they are. It's just, when it all comes down to it, we get down to one of my massive flaws: I lack patience. I see myself were I want to be, but frankly, it's exhausting looking up apartments, sending out resumes, panicking over my completely uprooting myself and frolicking in a land where everyone's an actor. I was completely validated when my MCG's voted me, "Most Likely to be the Next Tina Fey." I was insanely happy with that title, but really, it's a loooooong ways off. And I'm starting to become slightly (okay, well, DEEPLY) petrified of what lies ahead/stricken by the thought of being homeless on the coast of California. What if nothing happens at all? THEN what? Go back to the basics, I suppose. But what exactly were my basics?

I overanalyze a lot, in case you couldn't tell.

And then I remember the exciting things that are getting me through: I got into the Kennedy Center Playwriting Intensive Program, so I head up there in July, and will probably vomit with all of the amazing things I learn/fantastic people I meet. And I remember that most, if not all of the grad parties I've attended are full of people who are just like me. The ones who have gone to "Top Notch" schools like Duke, NYU, Stanford, etc. are done and home and are jobless just like everyone else. It's humbling. The playing field's equal, and (hopefully) everyone's ego is slightly deflated. For some reason it's comforting.

I see the playing field.

I just need to make the first big step.