When I was taking classes I couldn’t wait to go on co-op. I was excited because I would be in the work force for six months and not forced to listen to my professors drone on and on for an hour. I would no longer have to worry about deadlines and papers, because my work day would consist of eight hours and then I would have the rest of the day all to myself. Wrong. I am busier now then I ever was. With being involved in student activities I barely have time to myself anymore.
I dread this is what life will eventually be like once I have gone on from this institution of higher learning on to my professional career as a journalist. I often find myself feeling like a middle-aged woman. These days I look forward to sleep more than anything. Sleep is now on the same level as a shopping spree. I can’t imagine doing this five days a week for the rest of my life with a husband and children to take care of.
One of the many problems with being on co-op is trying to come out the victor in the “battle of the bulge.” In the past five months I have put on countless pounds. I went from being the type of person who watched what I ate to putting anything in my mouth that would satisfy my hunger. My middle name has become “take-out.” I have been so busy that I don’t have time to cook, I have only cooked two times since moving into my new apartment. I have decided to put more effort into working out. No more take-out; just me, my instructional exercise tapes and the treadmill. After having the traumatizing experience of not being able to fit into one of my favorite pair of jeans, I decided it was time to stop eating and starting working out again.
Another down side to being on co-op is the fact that I am always broke. When I was working at RCS my money woes were at a minimum, but now that I work 40 hours a week I find myself scrounging for money, looking in my purses for spare change and trying to cut back on unnecessary expenses. I guess with more money comes more expenses, like paying for lunch, traveling expenses and putting together a new wardrobe for the real world.
With all this heartache and pain you would think that maybe I gained something out of this experience. Let me think, um no. I’ve learned how to answer telephones, type, address envelopes and use a fax machine, skills which I have acquired from past experience.
The bottom line is the grass always seems to be greener on the other side when in reality it isn’t. I’m sure I will have something to gripe about once I start classes again in the winter.
