I have -$3.57 in my checking account. Nothing in savings, obviously. I'm just glad my rent check did not bounce. I've got no milk, eggs, or butter in my fridge, and I just cooked my last pound of pasta. Five more days until my paycheck comes. I consider putting peanut butter on my spaghetti just so I have some kind of sauce, but then I remember the disaster of my dad's attempt at homemade lo mein noodles. I haven't trusted a "Better Homes and Gardens" article since. So on second thought, just salt will do.

Meanwhile, I've been working in the hospitality industry since the age of sixteen, kissing asses in exchange for tips so I can eat cheap carbs for every meal. The customers will spend two- three hundred dollars in an afternoon without batting an eye, and we're understaffed as usual so I can't waste time explaining the $20 cheese board when bar one needs their $15 wings and the bachelorette party needs their cake cut and the man in the navy blue suit is trying desperately to make eye contact while holding up his empty glass. I walk out with $10 at the end of the night.

I spent over a hundred grand on a degree that expects me to start paying it back in three short months, but it didn't hold up its end of the bargain. I don't have a job in my field, and I have few prospects of getting one. Don't get me wrong, I am beyond grateful to have a job at all, let alone one that pays above minimum wage and has perks to boot. I work at such a high end place (owned by royalty, no less, relatives of Princess Grace Kelly) that I was given the opportunity to royally fuck up M. Night Shyamalan's 40th birthday cake and then hand it to him personally. Which, by the way, is probably the most mortifying experience of my life to date. At least no one noticed the smudge after I attempted to fix it by panicking and dumping a large amount of too-thin glaze over the entire thing.

I'm moving past that particular experience one day at a time, though I did drop what would have been an omelette on the floor during peak breakfast hours just a few days ago and narrowly avoided a napkin crisis mere weeks ago. Here's where I am in life, three months post grad: napkins can be devastating and grocery shopping is at the top of my to-do list (and I couldn't be more excited to buy meat that has never known the cruel grip of freezer burn).

If any of this sounds familiar to you, you are probably between the ages of 21 and 25 and just graduated from college, are in an enormous amount of debt, and are trying to spread your wings like whatever bird of prey your liberal arts school mascot was. Find comfort in my mess and in your own. You are certainly not the only one scraping dimes together to pay the bills. One day you'll be watching the waiter balancing four plates and a bottle of wine in each hand, look back on these Bear Grylls days of resourcefulness, and won't be able to contain your smile. And then maybe you'll leave him a $20 tip under your water glass, just because you can. Because you finally made it.