Faux Graduation Woes

When you decide last-minute, as a current senior, to add a minor to your degree and, consequently, an extra semester, you are abruptly forced into a scary new reality. Nothing is especially different about your experience from other seniors’ until you get to about April. This is around the time all your friends start figuring out their lives – jobs, grad school, financial security, blah blah blah.

You, however, have a little bit longer to avoid turning over this new leaf. But besides the delayed thrust into the real world, you also have some sacrifices to make. Being a “not-senior senior,” as I’ve coined, is an awkward position. You have to adjust to a unique lifestyle that not many have to face. I’m not being at all dramatic about this. Now, I realize that not many of you can relate to this problem, but it’s not your blog it’s my blog and I enjoy a good rant. Just ask my mom.
 

In addition to losing all your friends to that cruel thief called Graduation, you must now deal with a myriad of minor (no pun intended) roadblocks.
 

1. All year, when teachers in every class ask for “everyone who’s graduating in May” to “raise their hands,” you have to smile and nod while everyone stares at you for being the only one to not raise your hand. Like why do they want to see hands? Can they not assume that most of the people in here are graduating?! And by now everyone in the room has probably assumed you failed a class or something. But alas, the teacher doesn’t allow you to explain the situation. They literally just want to see the statistics.

 

2. When May hits and all your friends have no incentive to prepare for finals because they already have jobs or realize it won’t really affect their final GPA that much, you have to study. Unfortunately, it’s contagious to have the same amount of motivation as those around you, but you actually have to take finals… You have to take study breaks to have a little froyo while all your friends take breaks from all their froyo to study a little. No spur-of-the-moment trips to Austin on dead days for you!

 

3. The actual day of graduation is the worst. I got so tired of explaining why I wasn’t in a cap and gown, I finally just started saying “I already have a job I’m here on business.”

Also on this day, everyone kept saying their last tearful goodbyes to arbitrary parts of the Baylor campus and I would absentmindedly join in until I remembered that oh wait, I will see that random tree again or oh yeah, I will again sit on that bench in a few months (no one had actually sat on that bench but nostalgia is rarely rational).
 

4. You don’t want to be that girl walking around in her sorority shirts after she’s supposed to have left… but like, that’s my entire wardrobe. This is my main concern for the Fall because undoubtedly everyone will notice. This is a completely valid concern. I actually have to own adult person clothes. That thought is more daunting than entering the real world. Whatever, you’ll probably still occasionally see me in a sorority shirt. Judge me. Maybe I’ll really stir the pot and throw on a fanny-pack.

 

5. You spontaneously decided to add 18 more hours to your already frightening schedule so yeah, you’re gonna have to take some summer school. And then out of nowhere, BAM your current apartment lease ends and you’re homeless. Didn’t see that one coming did ya?! I didn’t either. Shout out to Sneed for putting a roof over my head. Maymester’s are the best because they’re over in the blink of an eye but Maymester’s are the worst because you have to read 27 books and write 18 papers in the blink of an eye. My extra semester might not even be a dilemma since there’s a chance I won’t survive this Maymester.

 

But ya know what? I’m ok with staying another semester. After all, I get free Baylor football tickets and a student discount at the Waco movie theatre. Who would want to leave that?!

Middle Child

Being the middle child is not all it’s cracked up to be. And as you may know, it’s not cracked up to be very good. The “Jan Brady” Syndrome is defined (by Urban Dictionary) as “when a child feels mistreated or neglected because it seems like his/her parents apply favoritism to the younger and older siblings.”
 
I’m not saying that being the middle child is the worst. But, compared to the oldest and youngest child roles, being the middle child is the worst. Here’s why.


The oldest-born gets to do everything first: watch PG13 movies, stay out past 9, purchase a lottery ticket. This kid always gets to be in charge when the parents are gone. Even if he’s only the second most responsible of the three children.
 
Anything he does receives special attention because he’s the first to do it. He’s a trailblazer: a hero of sorts. And if he happens to be an actual genius, he sets the bar for the other two. Yes, he sets that excessively high bar, making it absolutely unreachable. These lofty standards provide some relief though, as no one would expect anyone to surpass, nay, meet that bar. Less pressure.
 
 
Being the baby of the family is even better than being the oldest because not only do you have fewer responsibilities, you actually have no responsibilities. You are literally a prince. You will never face adversity in your life. The youngest kid can turn in lackluster projects at the very last minute (or not at all) and still receive a higher grade than his sister. Hypothetically of course.
 
Being the youngest also means that when you do something – anything – the whole family pays a lot of attention because you’re the last one to do it. The other two have already done it (we’re aware because we all watched the oldest), but you’re the LAST of the bunch.
 
 
My parents claim that they love us all equally. The other day we asked them who their favorite kid is and they both said Jake so I’m not sure I believe this claim. But who can blame them? Jake is very tall , Sterling is a reincarnated Aristotle and I am Jan Brady.
 
But don’t feel too sorry for me – unless you want to send me pity cookies or something that’s fine go right ahead. Being the only girl has its perks. I’ve never had to share a bathroom, no one steals my shoes (except that one time when Jake was going through a phase) and I don’t have to compete with anyone for my title of The Princess (still waiting on my crown though). But still, being the middle child is like a being in a constant state of transition. It starts to mess with your mind. For example, Britney Spears and Kim Kardashian are both middle children. I won’t expand on that. Just draw your own conclusions.
 
On the other hand, Bill Gates and Jennifer Lopez are middle children too, so at least I’ve got that going for me. But Liam Hemsworth is the baby of his family.
 
Here’s a picture of Liam Hemsworth.

Liam-Hemsworth

…what was I saying? Oh right, I love my family.