All I wanted to do was listen to some new tunes on the mix CD my brother made for me. I didn't anticipate what John Mayer would refer to as a "quarter life crisis" coming on.

But it hit me like a ton of bricks when Ben Folds sang, "Everybody knows it hurts to grow up."

As a kid, I wanted to be "grown up" like my aunt, Erin, who is eight years older than me. She made "Saved by the Bell" come to life.

I was a little apprehensive about being a big bad Loyola College Prep Flyer, but I knew I would adjust once I got that locker thing figured out.

When I finally got to high school I realized it wasn't full of Mr. Beldings, hangouts as cool as The Max, and I didn't know any guys as cute as Zach Morris (OK, so maybe there was this one guy).

After my rosy-colored glasses were knocked off by the upperclassmen while just trying to make it to class, I soon found my niche.

In fact, I didn't want to grow up. I knew bigger and better things lay ahead of me, but I was just fine where I was. When it came time to fill out college applications, I refused to. I made my best friend fill them out.

The summer before it was time to leave for college, I tried to pretend that my friends wouldn't be leaving me and I wouldn't be on my own for the first time. But I couldn't pretend for long. As my friends left me, I became less scared and more nervous, but I knew things would work out like they always have for me.

So, here I am in college, and scheduled to graduate in about a year and half. It doesn't seem like it's right around the corner, but I can tell you it's a little too close for comfort.

In a year and a half there will be no monthly allowance from dad. I can't go to work in my pjs. There will be no "chick no pick add cheese."

My friends will be scattered across the continental United States. No random road trips to Dallas to see a Howie Day concert. And one word for you: marriage -- EEK! Or what if I never get married and become the creepy woman with all the cats who scares the neighborhood kids?

This is a scary world I am facing. How am I going to cope? Am I going to find a job I like? Paying bills, pssh, I have never done that.

As I lay in bed at night I am plagued by these daunting questions.

Just the other day my English professor asked the class where they saw themselves in 10 years. I thought about it, and I have no idea where or what I will be doing. Am I even going to make it to 30?

I don't have all the answers, but some helpful hints might be nice.

Sometimes I can see myself living in a quaint New England country home working on my fifth best selling novel. The next day I am transformed into the Big Apple making my way down 5th Avenue shopping on my lunch break and about to make my way back to the office (if you are wondering, I'm editor-in-chief of the glossiest magazine out there).

But then there are days when I have no idea what I want to do and no idea how I am going to make it when I am no longer a bulldawg.

I know I'll be OK, but Mr. Folds was right.

It hurts to grow up.

Jordan Marshall is a junior journalism major from Shreveport and serves as a news editor for The Tech Talk. E-mail comments to jordan21@gmail.com.