Tag: grad

• May 14, 2013

  3 Things No One Told Me About the Year After College

  

  A year ago, I graduated from college. I was bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and ready to take on the world with my fellow grads. Anything was possible. Since then, my optimism has faded. I’m still glad that I went, but I wish I’d known a few things back then that I learned over the past year.

  1) It’s okay to settle for a less-than-perfect job

  For some reason, I thought a bachelor’s degree was my golden ticket to my dream job. I was going to land the perfect gig and work there until I retired (or at the very least, I would get a cool job doing something I was trained for).

  It didn’t happen. I didn’t get into my field. I didn’t even get a job that requires the degree I spent four years slaving over. At first, I was disheartened. But the more I heard similar stories from my old classmates, I realized that our expectations were wrong.

  The economy is bad and getting any kind of work is difficult — even for highly intelligent, highly qualified people. It’s okay to settle for something less than ideal. Getting to the dream job is a long climb and you’ve got to start at the bottom and struggle your way up. Along the way, you might even learn a thing or two they didn’t teach in college.

  2) Some Things Never Change

  I used to believe that the transition from college to post-college was a magic door that would transform me into a “responsible adult.” I had to trade in my screen-printed t-shirts and hoodies for a suit and tie. Fun was forbidden.

  The truth is, there’s no point when you’re “too old” for silliness. Graduating and getting a job may make you feel self-important, but you’re the same person you’ve always been. I’m only as old as I want to be.

  I could take myself seriously, or I can have fun while my joints still allow me to dance and my metabolism still allows me to overeat. Just because I’m in the “real world,” it doesn’t mean that I have to give up on fun. So what if you have to wear dress shoes to work? Go to Denny’s at 3 am with your friends and eat some pie.

  3) You Don’t Know Everything

  You’ve completed a rigorous course of study at a premier institution of higher education. That’s not a license to let your brain turn into mush. College can’t prepare you for everything; it’s important to keep an open mind and be ready to learn new skills (like how to reset a jammed garbage disposal or how to speak sign language or how to design a website). The world is full of things you don’t know.

  Even if you don’t return to formal education, you can still learn a lot. Read articles, travel and talk to people from wildly different backgrounds. You can gain so much from new experiences that you’ll never find in a textbook.

  Education makes us more human. So learn and grow. You’ll be a better and happier person for it.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle graduated in 2012 with a degree in Journalism and Political Science. In his free time, he likes to come up with Top 3 lists, which are easier to write than Top 10 lists. You can also find him on Twitter: @jonnyeberle.

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• March 10, 2013

  The End of an Era

  

  All things must end. Wind and water erode mountains, rust eats away steel, entropy unravels the universe and my university deletes my email account. I guess it was bound to happen eventually, but I’m not ready to give it up. I still use it for correspondence (and coupons), to use the school’s wireless internet and to impress people at parties (a .edu address makes you look smarter). But in a few weeks, the system will delete me from its databanks and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  Nothing I can do to slow the inexorable flow of time from the past into the future. The only thing I can do is rescue my files and important emails from their digital apocalypse.

  As I forward old conversations, I realize that this is how eras end — they do not come grinding to a halt all at once, they are dismantled piece by piece. This is how my college years end, as a gradual drifting away. Graduation; friends moving away; email account deletion. Bit by bit, it all slips out of my grasp.

  You and I both know this is about more than just losing my email. It’s about moving on from a phase in my life that is finished. And I think letting go of that is ultimately healthy. Time to let go. Time to log out.

  — 30 —

  I’m a writer and photographer in Flagstaff, AZ, the town where I went to college. When I’m not getting all nostalgic about my inbox, you can find me on the Twitter machine: @jonnyeberle. Please feel free to follow me there and leave your thoughts in the comments.

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• November 14, 2012

  Life is a Question Mark

  

  When I was very young, I wanted to grow up to be a baseball pitcher. I spent a portion of my days throwing things. I imagined I was Greg Maddux on the mound, sizing up my opponent before throwing the perfect sinker. I had a pretty decent throwing arm, but I couldn’t catch to save my life (I still can’t), so my parents suggested I try soccer. I played for a number of years, but I was never much better than a less-than-average midfielder and a rotten defender. My mind was too lost in the clouds to focus on the game and I gradually lost interest in sports entirely.

  Over the years that followed, I was never sure what I wanted to be when I grew up. An astronaut, a firefighter, a detective, an actor, a director, a novelist, a journalist, a professor, a social media marketer. I could never settle on a direction. Whenever anyone told me to follow my passions, I responded with, “Which one?” Even the concept of being “grown up” proved to be a social construction. We don’t grow up, we just grow less enchanted with the world around us.

  So, as I pour over graduate schools, it’s not surprising that I still don’t know what I want to be or where I want to be. I just hope that if I keep doing what I love, I’ll find a way to survive. Maybe one day, it will all make sense. Maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll fail over and over. Maybe I’ll make a living as a writer or maybe it will forever be a supplement to another career. And maybe, if I’m very lucky, I’ll pitch that perfect game.

  — 30 —

  The soul searching continues on Twitter, where I go by the handle @jonnyeberle. Please follow, share and comment.
• May 13, 2012

  The Sum of Our Genes

  

  Yesterday morning, I was an undergrad; today I am an alumnus of Northern Arizona University. The word itself — alumnus — comes from Latin, and respectable sources inform me that it derives from the verb alere, which literally means “to nourish.” I have been nourished, fed, and not just in my classes. I have been nourished my entire life.

  Among my friends, I have a reputation for confidence that some say borders on arrogance. Sure, I’m proud of my accomplishments, but I’m under no illusions about how I got here. I have been fed intellectually, emotionally and spiritually by many people: Professors, friends and family all got me here.

  No one is a one-man or one-woman show. We all require nourishment from others to succeed. From the moment we leave the womb, we’re dependent and though we learn to do many things on our own (I make a mean guacamole, for instance), we never grow out of our need for companionship and support.

  Perhaps it’s no coincidence that so many university commencements fall on the same weekend as Mother’s Day. I wouldn’t be alive without my mother’s generous donation of genes, food and love — let alone graduating from college. In fact, it occurs to me that I’m indebted to all the generations of my family who came before me — to the humble printers who founded a newspaper in a small town at the confluence of the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers in western Pennsylvania around the time of the Civil War and to the peasant farmers who braved the passage from Europe to build a better life for their children in a strange new land around the turn of the century. I would not exist without their sacrifices (and I wouldn’t be so dashingly handsome without their good looks).

  I am the product of centuries of hardship and perseverance. I am the result of generations of fateful decisions and fantastically good luck. I am the sum of my genes and I owe my ancestors a debt of gratitude. I’ve been nourished by all of them. Before I try to take credit for all of my success, I think it’s important to acknowledge that.

  — 30 —

  Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there, congrats to the grads and if you’re so inclined, I’d love to hear from you in the comments or on Twitter, where I go by the pseudo pseudonym @jonnyeberle.
• May 1, 2012

  One Small Step for Grad

  

  There are some strange goings on in the world this week. When I woke this morning, I looked out my window, where I discovered that the willow in my backyard had grown leaves overnight. Birds were sitting on telephone lines, singing. For the first time this year, I cracked open the window above my bed to let a crisp breeze flow through the room.

  It’s spring — and while I’m not ruling out the possibility of a freak blizzard — it’s increasingly clear to me that a lot of things are ending. In 11 days, I walk across a little stage, get a handshake and step off into the next chapter of the novel of my life. It’s too bad I don’t have the rest the plot outlined.

  When I was young, I believed in the popular myth that one day, by magic, I would be transformed into an adult in a blinding flash of light and credit card statements. Instead, I’ve found that growing up is a gradual, imperceptible process. We mature little by little without even noticing it, like red wine in a cellar. Then, one day, we realize that we became an adult years ago and that it’s an unending process of refinement.

  And then, you stand in your driveway, dumbfounded and wondering how you got here. Still, it’s not like I’ve been sleepwalking through life. I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. I’ve loved and I’ve lost and I can proudly say that I was conscious for all of it.

  In 11 days, a significant part of my life ends, but I’m not ready for the nursing home just yet. I’ve got more mistakes to make and I can’t wait to get started. Here goes nothing.

  That’s one small step for grad, one giant leap for grad-kind.

  

  — 30 —

  Wow, that was sappy. If you thought that was bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet. My Twitter feed will make you cry: @jonnyeberle.