MELISSA HARTZ
News Editor

Hungry for a change of scenery, my friend Allie and I have set up camp at an artsy coffee shop down the street from school. Our lacquered black table is strewn with sample resumes, cover letters, and contact sheets. Thin wisps of steam billow and fade from the lids of our white paper cups as we type. The soft music playing in the coffee shop is accented by the rhythmic clicking of laptop keys. Allie gazes at me over the top of her screen.
“Are you going to bold your work experience?” she asks me. I shake my head in the negative. We flip our computers around and compare the aesthetics of our resumes.
Earlier in the day, Allie and I stopped into the university’s career development center together (I suppose we’re somewhat of a package deal) to get some opinions on our resumes and cover letters. With papers full of pen marks and scribbles around us in half-circles, we type furiously, pausing only to sip some coffee. I sift through sites of magazines, radio stations, and newspaper postings, all seeking college interns. It’s exciting and also daunting - this is a big jump from working on the university newspaper. To be honest, it’s a little surreal. Just where does the time go, anyway? Allie rests her chin in her hand, looking at me over her computer.
“I feel like I’m a little kid doing grown-up work,” she sighs. I nod in agreement, bringing my cup to my lips. This place makes the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had - smooth and mild with an absolutely luxurious mouth-feel. A modest price tag makes my meager college budget happy, too. I take a long sip, and the warm beverage makes my cheeks flush.
I put my glasses down for a moment and can’t help but think about how quickly time passes. Four years ago I was a junior in high school. I was wrapped up in my own teenage life, and college was still a distant thought. Now here I am, four years later, looking for real-life jobs and Brooklyn apartments I’ll probably never be able to afford. It never stops me from looking though - I suppose as old as I feel, I am still young enough to dream.
Swirling the last of my now-lukewarm coffee in the paper cup, I lean back in my chair. I suppose everyone feels this way as the end of their college career draws near, sort of the worry and second-guessing, wondering if everything you’ve done over the past few years is worth it. It’s something like a mid-life crisis…maybe more of a quarter-life crisis. Not where you’re displeased about the past, but you find yourself worrying over the future. I suppose the best thing you can do is try and make a good impression. I finish up my revisions and close out of the program. The world is my oyster. I can do anything I set my mind to.
At least I’m still young enough to dream.