Now that college is over and I join the ranks of the unemployed, I should have some time to write. I can write all those things I wanted to for the last six months, but just didn’t find the time to do it.
After a senior clarinet recital, a conducting recital, and an honors thesis, I can feel quite accomplished and happy to have a break. Moreover, having to wait about three months for the government to either approve or deny my application for OPT (basically a one-year work permit as part of my student status in the US), would force me to stop.
That stop for me, of course, means having time to work on personal projects and read tons of books on all kinds of topics. I can read Eduardo Galeano’s “The Open Veins of Latin America,” a Christmas gift, or Jorge Catañeda’s “Amarres Perros.” Also, it is a great time to read that one Kent Haruf novel I have not read.
I could resume my creative writing efforts and start a second short story. Perhaps it is time to write those creative essays I’m scared to write. Or I could also try to begin a novel that I’d probably abandon by August.
It is also a great time to review music theory, work on my aural skills, expand my music history knowledge, attempt to finish some compositions, become familiar with more orchestral repertoire, and improve my staccato and altissimo register on the clarinet.
Honestly, I won’t accomplish most of these things. Above all this, I need to learn to become an adult. That seems to be the priority if I wish to survive a world I’m not prepared to join and yet I must.
This is all to say, it’s been a week since I finished college, five days since my parents returned home, and I’m ready to admit I do not like this.
While the break comes every summer, this time it does not arrive with the (sometimes feared) promise of school in the fall.
Whether I like it or not, though, doesn’t matter. I know it is time for a transition and I must go through it. There is no way around it.