Too Much Pomp, under these Circumstances

Remember 2001?

It was President Bush's first year in office. No war was waging in Iraq. The Trade Center towers stood high, and I don't recall a single soul in skinny jeans.

I found myself falling, quite frequently, into the GAP.

And somehow I managed to live on roughly $12 a week.

Ah, 2001 -- the year I started BYU. The fall I turned 19, I knew that college was my element. High school was a tiny blip on the radar of my past, but college! College with its effortless expanse of eclectic opportunity.

I got over it.

The first burnout came in 2003, just 18 months into coed-coexistence. Mono struck, and with it, another 18 months of family life, job hunting and psuedo-money-saving.

Then came 2004 -- the year of sketchy basement apartments (as any of my friends 6-foot and taller can attest to) and the onset of working/studying/financial independence.

Well, that wasn't exactly all it was cracked up to be.

By 2007, I was working two jobs, finishing an internship and taking classes in order to tie all the loose ends on this torture we call a degree.

Six years later...

I graduate tomorrow! I have a "real" job and an 8-5 schedule. I can legitimately claim to be a "journalist" and I pay all my bills on time.

Why do I want to go back to school?

Perhaps it comes down to the fact that I've never quite been able to narrow my interests to fit the small circumference of my brain. In the six-year sprawl that encompassed my undergraduate years, I considered (or claimed) the following majors:

--Astrophysics
--Fashion Merchandizing
--Pre-Med
--English
--Comparative Literature
--Business
--Advertising
--Journalism (and the winner is...)

Perhaps I shouldn't be alarmed then that I'm already filling out applications for culinary school.

But for now, can I say (with a certain air of pomp) that I am FINISHED!