Woe are we, seniors. We’re seven months from graduation, but our emotional breakdown has only just begun.
As you are well aware, being a senior journalism student is no walk in the park or stroll on the beach; it’s more like a sprint along an abandoned trail. We’re trying to move quickly, find our direction and make it to a destination that doesn’t resolve into a dead end. Or what I like to call, “my parent’s basement and a retail position at my local shopping mall.”
We are angsting over resumes, internships and class assignments while feeling the crushing pressure to find employment and look like we’ve already “made it” — before we’ve even begun.
Yes, I have a lot of feelings as a senior journalism student. Here are some of them:
1. Oh, snap, I need another internship.
Feel like you’re behind? Constantly hearing about others’ clips and internships that will soon lead them to the career you’ve been wanting? You’ve got a case of intern illness. You’re sick of interning, but you know you need to build up “cred.” Your “journalism experience” section is missing filling. You have to double stuff the inside of your journalistic Oreo that is your resume before graduation. Right between your chocolate-coated home address and the bottom cookie finish, your honors and awards section, which definitely includes some type of leadership role on your student hall council.
2. I’m so tired.
You’re not stopping. What does “relax” mean? You haven’t experienced a good night’s sleep in three years. You don’t know what free time is. You’ve had the same bags under your eyes since 2012 and you constantly attempt napping with your eyes open.
3. What’s… eating right?
Grab and go. Fast food. Trail mix. Dessert. Beer. These are the only food groups you know. Cake constitutes as a meal. Granola bars are essential. Cooking isn’t important. Beer or wine may or may not be your dinner on more than one occasion. I’m kidding. It’s always hard liquor.
4. I have mental strength.
Working out means carrying broadcast equipment from your car to your assignment. Bicep curls are compensated with hours of typing. Your legs have adjusted to deskual inactivity. You’ve gained the ability to work out in your mind; It’s constantly sprinting with ideas. And that’s like, the same, right?
5. What do you mean there’s no WiFi?
You’ve reached the point in your college career where connectivity is almost as important as oxygen. Gmail is your sidekick. Google docs have a sacred place in your heart. Apps heighten your mood. If the Internet goes away, so does your allotted time before deadline.
6. Am I okay with sharing an apartment with strangers in the Midwest?
You realize that being a journalist means surviving minimally; the job market doesn’t scream stability. You might live in a studio apartment underneath a pet store. You might only have 10 outfits in your closet. And you will definitely be in debt somewhere in North Dakota. Not knowing where you’ll end up — or even if you’ll have enough money to sustain a normal life for a few years– is surprisingly okay with you.
7. I’m weird.
You’ve come to terms with this adjective.
8. Should I have a back-up plan?
You ask yourself this when you drink five cups of coffee at 2 a.m in order to submit a finished article to your editor by 8, or you are conducting a phone interview in the car eating Chef Boyardee with your fingers while dodging traffic with your knees. But you don’t need a back-up; for some reason, you have undoubted faith in your future career, although a small part of you still thinks you’ll end up doing PR or advertorials.
9. Codeine. Just kidding, coding.
Your professors are aware that everyone needs to be proficient online in order to be successful. Before you graduate you’re trying to excel in website design and have already added it to your resume, even though you’ve barely figured out anything past adding links and headlines. < a href=”“www.youllgetitbeforemay.com”” > I promise < /a >
10. Hearing this for the 456th time: “Journalism is a dying profession.”