Old Main WTAMU (Photo credit: kitty_498)

I sitting on the EPML (English, Philosophy, and Modern Languages) floor lobby, pretending to study for my Grammar class. I say pretending because although I have my book open, and I did start trying to do my vocabulary words for our current chapter, I’ve abandoned the project to start blogging instead.

There’s only three more weeks of class plus a final week aptly named finals week. That’s it for this semester, only four weeks. After a three-week hiatus, the first summer session starts which lasts only about six weeks or so. If my math is right, and it is possible that I’m wrong, I have thirteen weeks and I’ll be done with this condensed chapter of my crazy life.

Which got me thinking earlier this morning. I was in a depressed state for over a year. I had some good days, but I think it’s safe to say that my bad days outnumbered the good days by a wide margin. It took almost a month of being back in school to snap me out of my funk. When I’m actually done with school, and when I have my sheepskin, will I go back to being depressed? Or will this change in mood continue?

It’s hard to say since there were many things contributing to my depression. I’ve finally gotten over them but I can’t help but wonder if it’s only a temporary reprieve. What if I’m still unable to find a real job post-graduation? Making flippant comments on my social network sites will not pay the bills. Yet.

I guess I should take my friend’s advice and take things one day at a time and stop stressing about it. All I can do is to update my resume and start putting myself on the job market again. If I’m lucky I’ll be able to find something the suits me, one that takes advantage of not only my intelligence, but also my aptitude. Money is not my number one concern, but yes I would like to make a livable salary.

My ultimate goal is to write so I know I’m probably condemning myself to a life of near poverty, but I guess I’m okay with that. I’ve done enough to know that I’d rather be happy than rich, loved rather than wealthy, content rather than famous. Now if I can be happy, loved, content, and rich? Why not?

As I look out the third story window of the classroom center of WTAMU, and as I see my fellow students as they go back and forth between classes, I wonder what they are thinking. How many are wondering, as I am, about their futures? How many of them are staring their own impeding graduation and are wondering where they are going to go? Are any of them already set?

It’s not my problem, I know, but it’s nice to think that I may not be alone in worrying about my future. It’s coming up a lot faster than I could have ever imagined. I’m not sure if I’m ready for this.