To celebrate a thesis draft submission, some friends and I gathered for a garden party to honor what might be our last few months as students. Anticipating some wild singing and dancing among the fairy lights, I was surprised to find myself in a slightly different setting. Instead of the typical party chit-chat, many of the conversations were unexpectedly serious.
‘Are we already old?’ I asked myself, reminded of how boring I used to find those kinds of conversations just a few years ago.
In one corner of the garden, a group exchanged LinkedIn tips and tricks for boosting your profile to land a stable job. Nearby, others had turned the gathering into an impromptu networking event, figuring out who might know someone who knows someone who could help with internship searches. Across the garden, a passionate left-wing believer debated a solid right-wing believer on where tax money should and shouldn’t go. By the entrance, a couple weighed the pros and cons of moving away from Groningen, trading the uncertainty of finding a place to live for a steady job.
In a world that seems to fall apart a little more every day, staying optimistic and carefree as a student has become a challenge
In a world that seems to fall apart a little more every day, staying optimistic and carefree as a student has become quite the challenge. I still want to talk about who kissed whom at the last party, or who got embarrassingly drunk. Yet a part of me finds the serious conversations strangely comforting, and maybe even reassuring. It means I’m not the only one spiraling, asking myself, what if the world war starts and I don’t even have my degree yet? What if I can’t find a job after graduating? Which house, city, country, or continent am I supposed to live in?
Opening the news feels like bracing for a blow, whether it’s another military conflict, an AI-caused environmental issue, or all-consuming budget cuts. Taken together, it makes me realize that we are not old. Maybe the era is just a little overwhelming and scary. Even though this might seem like a lame excuse, I am convinced it is not. It’s easy to call it just lazy and indecisive from the outside. But take one closer look, and see that people are quietly trying to build something solid on ground that keeps shifting.
For now, I’m glad that some people at least found and helped each other at this half-celebration, half-support group. One person left with an updated LinkedIn that might actually help them find a job. Another found a useful internship connection, while the two political opposites finally agreed, but only on their musical taste. The ‘to move or not to move’ dilemma was postponed until at least after graduation.
In the end, there were not so many crazy dances and wild singing, just a low buzz of precariousness softened by fairy lights and familiar faces. Maybe that’s what celebration looks like now. Not escaping reality, but holding it together, together. And somehow, at the moment, that feels enough.
LIZA KOLOMIIETS