I understood the world when it orbited around UW-Eau Claire. I spent five-and-a-half years finding my comfort zone in that world, and just when I got the hang of it, suddenly they’re kicking me out. I’m not spending my last days of summer moving, buying books, or rearranging my class schedule. When I open my planner now, all I see is empty white space. School and homework used to be the hinges that held my life together and they gave me something to strive for. Now I have the coveted freedom I would have killed for in my fifth year of school and, frankly, it makes me nervous. Without the controlled social environment of campus, the student loan financial cushion, and the end target to keep me focused, transitioning from student of UW-Eau Claire to adult citizen of Eau Claire has proven difficult.

Since I was not one of those lucky people (namely business majors) who had a job lined up after graduation, my commencement march took me from college to a big empty abyss. Since I had no reason to leave Eau Claire, I stayed.

My first priority: to find a place to live. There comes a point in every person’s life when stumbling, yelling people at 3 a.m. stops being funny and starts being intrusive. Never having lived north of Chippewa Street and south of Menomonie Street, I wasn’t sure where to look for a home, so I did what any logical person would do: found the cheapest place available. The lesson: cheap means drains that don’t drain and nonexistent kitchens. Also, crying children in the next apartment are not less distracting than drunken college kids. 

My next challenge is to maintain some semblance of a social life even though almost everyone I’ve known for the past six years is now elsewhere. In a moment of regression a couple weekends back, I revisited my favorite college watering hole which is named after a German sausage that is best when boiled in beer. What I once found an endearing establishment in which my girlfriends and I ruled the dance floor, looked (and smelled) so different to my older, wiser eyes (and nose). Where the bouncer used to greet me by name, I only got empty glances. Where there used to be familiar faces, there were only kids who had to be too young to be there. I was taken aback by the prospect of actually wanting to enjoy a drink with a couple of friends in an establishment where the music is good and at a volume that encourages conversation.

    After that failed experiment, in an attempt to find people of my current demographic and taste, I attended a more “adult-friendly” food and drink establishment with a few of my married friends that were still around. This particular venue has a reputation for good food, atmosphere, and classic Eau Claire ambiance. What I thought would be an enjoyable dining experience amongst my peers turned offensive as patrons and servers alike treated my friends and I like rowdy toddlers. Not to mention, I still hadn’t found people my own age. Surely they must exist, but developing a more mature social circle is a bit of a paradox. You need friends to make friends.

My third and final challenge – which has proven far more difficult than I could have ever imagined – is to find a “real” job; you know, the kind with benefits and vacation days and lunch breaks. It seems to me that there are few available career opportunities for recent graduates in our fine city unless I stumble upon the desire to run a small business or work in a call center. Not having any sort of business proposal and with a natural reaction to cry when people yell at me, neither of those prospects sound like anything at which I would be successful. So, in the meantime, I’ve juggled multiple part-time jobs and worked on honing what employers refer to as “marketable skills,” which I’ve learned make you look good on paper, but won’t necessarily land you a job offer.

So, here I am. I’ve outgrown campus, but apparently haven’t grown into real Eau Claire either. What I’ve learned about this city outside of the UWEC campus, I genuinely like, but am wondering if it has enough to offer a young, contemporary lady such as myself.

What’s a girl to do when she thirsts for a quiet place to call home, a few friends and some self-fulfilling employment? Part of me thinks that moving to a bigger city might solve these problems, but then I wonder if I’d be even more lost trying to figure out life in an unfamiliar place. What I do know is this: colleges should offer a Life 101 class upon graduation that helps people like me transition into the world gracefully.