My Name is Nobody!

With only a month and a half away from my college graduation at University of San Francisco, I’m simultaneously excited and scared at the same time. My pastor, Pastor Mark, from Radiance Christian Church once had a sermon about “the 5 stages of adulthood.” The 1st stage is graduating college, 2nd is living independently, 3rd is being financially stable, 4th is getting married, then last stage is having a family.

I cannot believe it’s been over 4 years (I took a year of absence) and I’m already graduating. After I graduate, I will not perform my daily routine, which I’ve been trained to do my whole life. Wake up, get ready for school, go to school, meet some friends, go home. It doesn’t work like that anymore.

Find me wearing this at my Commencement!

Find me wearing this at my Commencement!

Even my best friends, who I have known my entire life, are not equal to me anymore. We will not be labeled as “students” anymore, but rather have professional titles. And there will always be a friend who will make more money than I will; vice versa, a friend who will make less dough than I will. Some will know more about medicine and someone else will be an expert on urban planning.

Questions questions questions! As if I’m not stressed out enough to finish finals and be emotionally and mentally prepared to say goodbye to my youth and college friends! AS IF! *insert Alicia Silverstein’s voice here from Clueless* What’s your major? What are you going to do after college? Are you going to grad school? Do you have an internship under your belt yet? Do you have any connections to that job you want? What company do you want to work for anyway? Are you going to stay in San Francisco? Are you going to go back home and live with your parents and ruin your life? Are you going to be a loser? Are you going to be a loser? Are you going to be a loser?

zzz

Sometimes, I feel like I should tell people, “My name is Nobody” like Odysseus.

In 2nd grade, my teacher made our class write a letter to our 18-year-old self. I added a dollar into the envelope just in case I become homeless or something. ANYWAY, Mrs. Villamarin really sent those letters out to us when we turned 18!

I couldn’t stop laughing and crying at the same time while I was reading what 8-year-old Jennifer had wrote to 18-year-old Jennifer. This summer, I went back home as a 22-year-old and pulled out that letter again.

ai m 22 yerz uld & ma name iz nubudy urrr durr

ai m 22 yerz uld & ma name iz nubudy urrr durr

As a kid, you think you will become an adult once you turn 18. As a kid, you think you will have your own car, your own house, and maybe even a husband or a wife. Oh, the innocence. I am able to say I’m already ready for my 2nd stage of adulthood because I already live away from my parents; however, they’re still helping me out with rent (ahhh SF please be nice to me), and paying my phone bills (eeek I’m so embarrassed). Even at the age of 22, I’m such a big baby! As I grow older, I am humbled and grateful of what my parents have done for me, and I cannot imagine reaching my last stage of adulthood: having  a family. Because once you have a family, it’s not your life anymore. Because once your mini-me pops into the world, it’s about them now. I cannot imagine taking care of someone else. I can barely take care of myself!

zzzz

Although… I gotta say… my 9 year old siblings are training me to become a good mommy one day. Except when they say something like this and I just want to turn into a turtle and hide in my shell forever:

Sophia: Unni (which means “big sister” in Korean), how old are you again?

Me: 22, why?

Sophia: How come you already growed up, but you’re still not “something”

y u not something?

y u not something?

Sad panda. Oh, the innocence…

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4 thoughts on “My Name is Nobody!

  1. i love this post, too. it’s such a nice combination of looking back and looking forward, with a healthy dash of vulnerability! there is so much going on, too – as if, odysseus, college, your siblings. i’ve come to really look forward to your posts. keep it up.

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