By Carolyn Weinstein

What do you say to someone who’s trapped under a crashed car on the side of the highway in the middle of nowhere? “I’ll try to get you out!” or “hang in there!” or “I’m sure they’ll be able to save your legs?” Because that’s exactly what senior year feels like.

I titled my last article “How to Not Freak Out,” and I am desperately trying to take my own advice.  After a month free of not worrying about anything more important than finding a free table at Slow Train, I find myself re-acquainted with the anxiety that I left behind after finals.  It’s great.  It’s like meeting up with a friend you haven’t spoken to in years and remembering 15 minutes in how unbelievably annoying they are.  Suddenly, I’m dealing with resumes and the possibility of being a barista for life instead of the important parts of senior year, like having sex in academic buildings and making lasting memories with the people who’ve been there for you since your baby days in Dascomb (related?).  I don’t like it.  I haven’t had to care about anything since, like, December.  Suddenly I have an adult life to plan.

My goal to alleviate these natural worries about the future is to get my shit together now. Specifically, I’m trying to fine a balance between school and friends.  I mean, who isn’t?  But this time I might actually take it seriously.  The way to not be scared about what comes after graduation is to be confident that I can organize my life while still dealing with the stresses of college.  Granted, the comfort and resources of Oberlin makes this easier, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m still a little child.  If I can find the balance now, I can sure as hell get it together as a slightly bigger child post-graduation.

So here’s where I’m at now:  find the elusive balance between work, friends, and doing dishes.  Write a goddamn cover letter like the responsible person I know I can be.  Figure out why the bathrooms on the first floor of Mudd always smell like pee.  Go to Career Services over and over again.  Do it in a practice room.

Got it?  Neither do I.