Or why someone should tell you that the months after you graduate college will be the worst of your life.

Okay, so maybe not the worst. But, certainly something you are unprepared for. You spend years working and reading and drinking hundreds of cups of coffee to finish a hundred papers or projects. Freshman year sucks a little cause you are new and no one likes to be the little fish. Then sophomore year comes and you care less and sleep more. It isn’t until junior year that you realize what the hell you are even doing there and try to correct the last two years of your life in a three-month time frame. Then senior year comes. It is terrible and wonderful all at the same time. You finally know who your teachers are, the ass you should never take again, the one who doesn’t make you do anything, the one who loves the romantic period just as much as you do. You know how to churn out a 5-page paper over Robert Frost in exactly 55 minutes and 39 seconds. You have read every ounce of literature you could ever imagine. Let’s face it. You are officially a badass. Not to mention you can taste victory.

Then graduation day comes. It’s the moment you have been waiting for. You get all dressed up even though no one can even see what your wearing under your trash bag of a robe. (Which your mom had to shorten for you cause you burned it with the iron). Your whole family shows up, your mom in waterproof mascara, your brothers with secret air horns tucked into their jackets, and your aunt in a hideous flower print dress from the 80’s (seriously Aunt. its 2011. get a new wardrobe already). You have a celebration, get some money and gifts, and look down from the top of your mountain.

One week later.

You are still celebrating. And why shouldn’t you be? You have money to spend on beer, beer, and, well, more beer.

One week later.

You wake up, eat some cereal (because you spent all of your money on beer), and watch the latest (well for Netflix anyways) episode of your favorite show on the Xbox. You sit on the couch, thinking that you have some how earned this right to lounge and be lazy. After all you did spend 4 years waiting for this.

One week later.

You wake up, eat some cereal, and start to wonder what you should do for the rest of your life. You decide to worry about that later. After all, you’re a college graduate. Who wouldn’t want to hire you, or let you into grad school?

One week later.

You wake up, eat some cereal, and eat some more cereal. You start to feel a little too much like a bum, so you decide it wouldn’t hurt to do some laundry that has piled up after the last three weeks or to finish sending out some applications to graduate schools.

One week later.

You wake up, eat some oatmeal, (in your rush to make changes, even your breakfast gets a makeover. Besides who wants to eat Life everyday.) and get dressed. It finally hits you that your undergraduate life is over and its time to get real. This realization comes from the ridiculous feeling of uselessness that comes with laying on the couch for 4 weeks. You decide to get a job. Not just any job. Your dream job. It’s gotta be out there.

Three days later.

You wake up, eat some cereal (because some things just don’t stick), and get dressed. You head to the computer to look again for a job that is somewhat, remotely related to your degree or experience. You decide you are too good for a part time job and that you are unqualified for any of the listed full-time jobs.  (Irony?)

Three days later.

You wake up, eat some cereal (in bed) and continue to lay in bed. You decide you must warn others of this terrible occurrence (once you realize it fully) by writing a ridiculously long blog about looking up to the top of the mountain.

Welcome to the life of an unemployed bachelor of the arts!