The Champagne Soapbox

i wouldn’t necessarily call myself a productive person, maybe a distracted one at that who can distract herself with social events or impulsive thoughts concerning my fate by becoming completely engulfed by the desire to achieve better outcomes- for herself, for her friends, for her parents, and for the little girl she once was.

when i applied to college, i assumed the role out of necessity. the whole matter was completely written out for me given the expectations of my family and myself. over time, it formed to be a goal of mine, graduation and all, though it was certain that the pursuit would be more of a social formality rather than a wavering expedition. it’s a very privileged perspective, and i almost despise myself for it. being the first born of a small family, i assumed any goal to be my responsibility to set the tone of achievement- whether not those were extrinsically motivated was not my distinction to make. in some easy way, i also never considered the life of a housewife. even though i watched my mom play the role effortlessly for some time, i quickly understood that my father would want me to wear the pants and the skirt. i agreed, and i collected a sum of scholarships and made a grand move four hours away from the refineries.

in the good “arguing over politics, embracing differences, introducing feminism” way, i appreciated my parents pushing me to join only a few other extended family members in their collegiate status. in a bad way, i felt captive to institution, expense, and expectations of the world outside of my family. it was always what if i don’t, but not in a serious way, just in a “i bet i could do without” kind of way knowing that wasn’t an option.

every moment was an attempt to satisfy the rebellious teenager that felt too loud in a quiet town. it’s hard to not think about the dramatic nature of my first year away from the house i felt was home. riding a lime scooter in the pouring rain only to spin out and miss class because the health clinic needed you to get a tetanus shot. studying on campus with people whose last names you don’t know and romanticizing the whole thing. hoping that the bartenders assume your vodka whatever is just water. this was the typical college experience, sort of sneaky and relatable if you’re reading.

sophomore year was a glimpse of that very whimsical spirit, though covid took away a chunk of that experience. i remember the moment we found out school would be canceled, amused with my friends that our break was extended and hoping that my boss wouldn’t expect me to come in that week. it soon developed into many under-stimulating nights that would introduce me to the extent of what most of my classes discussed- mental health. although that experience taught me loneliness, to be frank, i soon learned how to enjoy it. it was somehow bartering a bottle of wine and finishing a book about self improvement. redecorating your apartment for people to understand, just a little bit, how colorful i understand myself to be. it was trying to figure out how to keep yourself entertained alone in a 2×1 living space while wondering how much time you would have to steal back from a crisis of political turmoil, violence, and pain before internalizing all those negative projections into your own.

before i knew it, my favorite professor for a class i anticipated during the entirety of my college career was announcing that she was glad to have had us experience what she had to offer. i walked home, and realized it would be the last time i would exit that building. for being a notoriously fast walker, always looking to the next task, my feet dragged behind me like a lost puppy who felt abandoned by herself. that’s it? i was almost driven by anger, wanting to steal back that lost time before i had to defend my experience behind a desk of a future employer. even for the next few days after that, i made excuses to visit campus and sit in that very library cubicle where freshman year, i silently carved my initials. it’s hard to not contemplate where you left your mark, if you even left one at all, so i sat there and hoped that another confused freshman may ponder who those initials may belong to, ignorantly unaware to the fact that i too am just as confused.

in that particular class, i was taught that happiness is not achieved through the satisfaction of reward, but it is more so achieved momentarily through a byproduct of your input in regard to the personal and cognitive effort you may apply to your health, relationships, and overall well-being. This concept of application explains that goals are the precursors of happiness and your commitment to the goal is the rewarding output. in turn, it is much more difficult to identify your goals rather than achieving them. in the same way, it is much more satisfying to succeed in an effortful pursuit rather than to contemplate their outcomes, even if the pursuit is defining your short-term and long-term goals. even if those goals are socially constrained. even if they are not really yours.

i’m at the difficult point of identifying my goals, like… legit goals that i now have time to execute and have the freedom to pursue regardless of their underlying cultural value.

for the next few weeks, and even now, people ask me how it feels to be graduated. simply, it’s lonely. it’s realizing that your friends are stilling working for the grade while you practice interview responses in the mirror. sometimes even facial expressions in fear that your worry is easily translated. it’s midnight scrolling through linkedin and saving potential job offers considering “am i ready to move away from the city i made my own home at?” it’s debating with your parents on how much responsibility you will take on the following months. it’s realizing that you knew less at 22 than you did at 18 and that all you have worked for, technically, depends on the next step you take. a wide-eyed, abnormally pessimistic, fresh out the pond college graduate who has the world in her hands but doesn’t know what to do with it.

i embody a completely different woman from who i thought i was freshman year of college. my accent is now thin and only introduced after a glass of wine. country music resembles Christmas music through nostalgia and only tolerated at a specific times. the high-school knock-off amazon boots now replaced by a nicer pair of leather skins that bear the cracks of endless steps made through the medians between campus roads. the same girl drives the same backroads home, and every time, realizes how small her room is and how big the world is- especially now.

in this way, graduation was like grieving the deaths of those previous versions of me all while giving birth to a more mature, socially expected, and classically conditioned woman. the best way i can explain my position is that she is still at the funeral and please expect her to be late to the birthday party.

i could tell you so much about the value of negative emotions, the cognitive process behind attention and how to optimize performance, how polarization is the death to community, and other psychological phenomenon. i could also describe to you how write grant proposals for issues you somewhat understand the necessity for, how to care for your apartment after it floods in snowing weather, and how to nurture the damaged ego of an abandoned cat.

however, just because i can tell you what it’s like to survive doesn’t mean i can tell you how to live. i think that’s what i’m racing to do now, which notes the exciting part of graduation. although it feels like i’ve reached the finish line and my reward is another marathon, i realize it’s because our culture is oriented around doing. it’s silly to admit into the electrical abyss that now i just want to focus on living now that i have the option to do so.

and, the real world is scary. how crazy of a feeling is it to feel like you have more time to make money to buy more time. being bred under a roof of expected achievement makes me contemplate the roof i spent 4 years building for myself, troubled by a disillusionment of teenage rituals and now disoriented with responsibility for my own livelihood. i want my name to exist beyond a printed name on a paycheck, a degree, and a blog. i hope that desire is understandable.

i’ve never been interested in exploratory hallucinogenic drugs that enhance one’s definition of being part of the earth, though i have heard stories and developed an interest in understanding psychedelics and the refractory period of induced euphoria. in every anecdote i pondered, i realized that users achieve something i naturally experience: a sense of belonging to a higher purpose of existence and appreciation of surrounding presentations of life. in turn, i naturally experience an ignorance to the moment. i can tell you what i want in about ten years, just because i understand that we all feel secure in the adaptability of the future. i can tell you what i want six months from now even, but now? like this second? how about some water or a breath before the starting line ribbon hits my waist. even better, can i retire from surviving and simply live instead?

a little heavy for an exciting post about graduating? sure. in a way, i discount the positive outcomes of this moment for me. lonely, yes, but the solitude of the pandemic taught me how to be still in the storm of chaos. in a funny (haha, really funny) way, those nights spent journaling about my cognitive dissonance or spiraling staring at the same damn ceiling prepared me for the loneliness of graduation. they taught me to appreciate this abstract concept of unknowing, labeling your reality, and to understand that it begins again (and again and again) until i reach the final finish line.

i would like to thank my parents for tirelessly pushing me to get the job done. my friends for keeping me sane or introducing me to my insanity, either or. all the people i connect with on LinkedIn for showing me what true jealousy is. myself too, for finding stability in the unknown but also being determined to refuse offers that don’t correspond with my experience and accept those that project growth. and my cat, for no particular reason.

i know i’m late for the birthday party, but i will be there in a minute. I’m leaving the funeral as we speak.

cheers bailey!