Shit just got real.

The most common question I've received over the past few months from friends, family, professors, classmates and strangers is if I'm excited to be graduating. Given little room for explanation or doubt, I've given the cookie cutter smile and said, "Of course!"

Well, that's a big fat lie.

Why would I be excited to leave a world where I can sleep everyday until 10, roll out of bed and go to class in my pajamas? Not unlike a newborn, I have been sheltered and cared for over the last few years with little interaction or consequence from the outside world. All I know is that caretaker, Southwestern. Life beyond this bubble was fun to explore, but I knew all along I could run back to this home-base where I felt safe and protected.

Graduation for me was equivalent to my fifth birthday when my parents made me give up my blankie. Stripped of all comfort and warmth, I'm left with the same empty feeling I had then-- What is there to hold on to?

I sat down today and looked at all of my financial information. I thought about my interests and prospective jobs, read an article about how useless my degree is, and then thought about crying. (This is after all what my five year-old self would do.)

But instead, I've decided to come back to the blog that I started a year ago as a means to communicate and document my exploration into foreign lands. For this time in my life is sure to be just as scary and exhilarating as traveling in the red light district of Amsterdam.

With this next year, I plan to document my transition from college into full-time work, from the comforting feeling of loan checks to the frightening reality of loan payments, adjusting to cooking actual meals and regular sleeping schedules.

How does one make this transition? We're about to find out, cause shit just got real.