Transitions

On June 3rd, I graduated from college.

On June 4th, I moved out of my dorm room.

On June 5th, I started working as a concessions auditor at the Del Mar Fairgrounds.

If that last line made you pause for a second, don’t worry, I’m quite aware of how that sounds.

I’ve been going full throttle for what feels like years now. I know it’s weird jumping from a prestigious Ivy League university to the most average American thing ever. Granted my job is a lot less dull than Jesse Eisenberg’s in Adventureland and requires competence in basic math, but I might as well have been living in a commune for the past ten years. Going to private school all my life really isolated me from everything, even the people that lived in my own neighborhood.

Working at a county fair feels like an ice bath. Instead of elbowing future Olympians, Supreme Court justices, and media moguls on my way to a dance/martial arts Atelier course, I’m surrounded by people juggling multiple jobs, some working 80 hours a week to feed their families. Just a couple weeks ago I was a student at an elite university with a terrifyingly competent and beautiful twentysomething student body straight out of Gattaca. Now I understand that true diversity means that I have to push past fairgoers of all ages and sizes to swipe in on time. God forbid that I get sandwiched between the largest man I’ve ever seen and Chicken Charlie’s Krispy Kreme Triple Decker Cheeseburger.

I haven’t quite collected myself yet, but I wanted a moment to acknowledge that sometimes transitions are abrupt and forced. We don’t always have the luxury of time to adjust. I’m not sure that it’d be easier anyway.

Grant me one instance of vanity with this photo of myself just 6 days after graduation.

IMG_1054

I cut my hair again the next day.

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