Abby Ryan has her whole life planned out, up until graduation that is. As a journalism student at the University of Southern Washington, she has one goal in mind for her last semester of senior year: secure a scholarship for graduate school. But whe...
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The first night of the spring semester isn't spent in its typical fashion.
Nia, who would usually drag me out to a bar to get drunk off tequila shots and vodka cranberry to celebrate our last semester, is currently lounging right next to me on the couch. She's three episodes deep into the serial killer documentary series she's been binging, all the while stealing more than her fair share of the knit blanket we're sharing. She has a water bottle the size of my forearm cradled in her arms, and her short black hair is pulled back into a haphazard bun on the top of her head while a red headband attempts to keep the mane of flyaways at bay. Somehow, she still looks more attractive than anyone recovering from a nasty bout of food poisoning should ever be allowed to look. Sliding down further on the couch, she opts to use my shoulder as a pillow rather than one of the fifteen different decorative pillows we have piled around us.
Nia is a touchy person. She's always pulling us in for hugs, playing with our hair, or smacking our butts when we walk by. It's something I've grown used to in the three years of us living together, but sick Nia is a whole new level of cuddly. I don't mind, though. Aside from the fact that Nia is one of my favorite people on the planet, she's also like a little heater who generates more body heat than anyone else I've ever met, which is something that comes in handy in the early months here in Washington.
"Find anything new?" Her voice is still a little hoarse, and she takes a long sip of her water bottle to soothe her throat. She's watching me scroll through the scholarship website, and I groan in response, clicking from one link to another, rereading the same posts I've already looked at a hundred times.
As much as I'd like to toss my laptop aside and just relax on the couch, the voice in the back of my head telling me I'm running out of time to find a scholarship just keeps getting louder.
"It's all the same." I sigh.
The site hasn't been updated for a few days, and I'm starting to worry this is all I will have to choose from. Finding a scholarship is Plan A. Taking a few years off to work and save up enough money to pay for classes is Plan B. Throwing my inhibitions to the wind and becoming a stripper is Plan C. And taking out even more student loans is Plan D.
At this point, Plan C is looking mighty fine.
I'm not against student loans, and if I weren't already nearly forty-thousand deep in them, I wouldn't have a problem taking out more. But at this point, I'm already going to struggle to pay them back, and I don't even want to know how much more it will cost to finish my entire graduate degree.
The logical question to ask myself is whether or not graduate school is even a realistic option. If I have to take out more loans to pay for it, is it even worth it? Sure, going to graduate school is the only chance I'll have of securing a competitive job in the journalism field, but if I'm being honest here, I don't even know what kind of journalism I want to specialize in. Political? Entertainment? Investigative? Freelance? Column? Feature? Hell, even travel journalism is on the table at this point.
