Struggling with senior-itis!

I have a confession to make: I have senior-itis.

It’s a tricky little syndrome., sneaking up on you out of nowhere. I realized that I was burdened with this disease when my husband pointed out that my answer to everything is “Whatever.”

“Hey Lauren, what do you want for dinner?” -Whatever.

“Lauren, are you ready for your midterms?” -Whatever.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at school an hour ago?” -Whatever.

Spilling over into all aspects of my life, senior-itis is affecting my part-time job, my volunteer activities and my relationships with family and friends. I am a hard-working student turned apathetic toward life in general.

However, I have found a way to cope: I daydream of the loads of money that I will roll in each night after coming home from my real-world-full-time-big-shot-adult job. At this point, I don’t even care where I work, as long as it is not costing me money to be there. If I don’t have to take out a student loan to do it, sign me up.

The deeper I get into my daydreams, however, the more I realize that this “real-world” is maybe not exactly where I want to be. This summer, I saw a glimpse of “adult life” when I took a position as a marketing intern for a financial firm. I worked pretty much full-time, and the changes I saw in myself were uncanny.

For starters, I became interested in the stock market. (What?) That interest was partly due to my working at a financial firm and partly due to a genuine concern for my retirement.

Next, I saw myself altering my driving habits in order to get better gas mileage in my car. (Are you serious?) I became somewhat of a “hyper-miler,” priding myself when my car’s computer displayed anything above 30.1 mpg.

Finally, my credit score took a higher priority in my eyes. I canceled any credit cards I no longer used and came up with a budget to pay back my student loans as soon as possible.

In addition to those genuine economical concerns, I experienced the bleakness of an unending 40-hour workweek, the stress of a half-hour commute, and the joy of using the office fridge. (I am not sure how long that orange juice had been in there).

Is this the real world that I long to be in? Will I be sick of this life in four years as well? (Or in my case, five and a half years.)

Probably, yes. But that is where the big paycheck steps in and saves the day.

Please don’t spoil my dreams of big paychecks.

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