It’s 2 a.m.

It’s 2:00 a.m. as I’m typing this post and my eyes feel as if they’ve been taped open. Initially, I was in denial and told myself that my sleep schedule would revert back to a stage of normality – these are lies I constantly tell myself when I’m not anywhere near campus. So I continued to stare at my ceiling and started to ponder the complexities of my future and all the complications that come with growing up and pretending to be a professional when in reality, I’m still just trying to figure everything out like everyone one else. So instead of staring at the ceiling for yet another hour, I decided to blog about it. After all, writing has always been my go-to medium for filling a void and I just haven’t updated in a while.

Instead of preaching to the choir about the newest digital tools or my #internlife, I guess I shall proceed on a passionate oration of some sort. Bare with me, this might become more of a digital word vomit than a poetic rant – don’t hate me too much. The only additional factor that would make this blog post more tolerable would be if you were reading it whilst listening to the pitter patter of rain next to candlelight – but now I’m nearing hopeless romantic status and I’m pretty sure the majority of my audience isn’t a fan of that type of writing.

So here goes nothing.

It’s a little past 2 a.m. now and I am about to type to my heart’s content in an attempt to somehow fall asleep. The struggle is real. Maybe I should proceed to talk about my sophomore year, it’s only appropriate considering it just ended. Sophomore year was a series of ups and downs. I worked harder than I have worked, whether it was professionally or academically, I worked at it. I had always known that entering the realm of public relations meant that fighting to prove you were worth of respect would be a common task, but I think in my case, I have to try just a little harder. You see, I’m the intelligent idiot who wants to work with technical minds with out a technical degree – crazy. This whole having to prove myself? Always. Sophomore year taught me that if you want someone to take you seriously and actually respect you, act like it.

One of my favorite movies that I can probably quote word-for-word is The Devil Wears Prada. Sure, it’s about the fashion world, but it is incredibly applicable. My future boss is not going to give me a gold star if I did something great, but he or she does have the potential to fire me the second I mess up. Part of entering this field is realizing that I have to love what I do in order to do it well. But then again, that’s also applicable to most professions.

I digress. Back to the sophomore year topic. It didn’t hit me until yesterday that I was halfway finished with my undergraduate degree. It’s strange to think that who I am now is not who I was when I walked across the stage to graduate high school. I’m stronger yet afraid, more knowledgeable but not wise, happy yet concerned. I’m just a walking oxymoron. Sophomore year in itself taught me more about myself, how I work with others and it made me appreciate the little things in life and forced me to step back and realize that I needed to stop trying so hard to grow up so quickly that I would forget to enjoy being young.

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