Illustration by Holly Randall

The sorority girls are sunning poolside, students are cursing the heat and residence hall inhabitants are researching apartment listings and lease agreements. Yes, spring's 100-degree wonder is in the air, and May is approaching in a hurry.

For most seniors, that means graduation and monetary gifts (which is good, since diplomas also signal student lenders to creep in to collect). For many of us, May also means the heart palpitations commonly associated with looking toward the future.

Earlier this semester, I presented tips for passing interviews with flying colors. If those tips worked as well for you as they've been working for me, you're now desperately looking for something to do, your hope tangibly slipping away.

Sabrina Noble Columnist

Students today feel compelled to turn immediately to a profession, graduate school, volunteer work or travel. But if ambition, talent or resources are draining away rather than raining down - and if daddy doesn't have a place for you in his office, after all - that doesn't mean you're destined for a cardboard box or your parents' pullout sofa. Plenty of opportunities await the unskilled individual who isn't wanted elsewhere, ever.

It's just a matter of doing the research rather than weeping in a corner, rocking to and fro.

And these job listings aren't just for seniors, either. If you're an underclassman who has every reason to fear you're going nowhere traditionally desirable fast, pay attention; it's never too early to secure a mediocre future.

One highly underrated job that will keep you alive without tying you down is working on a communal farm. There, you can grow nearly everything you need (except perhaps electricity) while gaining valuable, marketable skills. While you will have to worry about

disease from close contact with cattle, hippies and an optional lack of personal hygiene that would violate most state bylaws, you would get plenty of "down time" after college to give you a wider perspective on yourself, your world and the delicate web between man and beast, society and nature. You may even write poetry and teach yourself to play a guitar you've crafted yourself and strung with the hair from Gabby McNabby, your wise but gentle mare.

If nature isn't your thing, you might open your own business. That takes a bit more research, though, as you've got to have a firm idea of the supply and demand of a product or service in your particular area.

For instance, if you choose to stay in Tucson, you may want to open a lemonade stand. Few jobs are more fulfilling than squeezing lemons until your skin is starting to deteriorate from constant exposure to citric acid. Even better: As your own boss, you set your own hours. You can even choose who does and does not deserve to purchase your beverage, as it is neither too sour nor too sweet, but the ideally refreshing balance. As a final benefit, a lemonade stand requires minimal overhead and maximum profit - not a dime of which you have to share with those communal farmers.

If you are allergic to citrus fruit, juice or self-directed labor of any kind, you can always land a job in the adult film industry. Here, the only requirements you need are a sense of adventure and a complete will to compromise any dignity you may still possess (though Hooters on your resumŽ is always a plus).

While the hours can be long and the work repetitive, there's a lot of money to be made. I understand they offer comprehensive benefits including dental and regular sexually-transmitted disease testing, even in entry-level positions. And, of course, your boss and co-workers are very flexible.

If all else fails, you can always pool all your graduation gifts together and buy a tent or a sturdy box light enough to load into strangers' pickups. The world will truly be your oyster as you camp throughout the United States and possibly even Canada.

If you've got the savvy to elude bears and wolverines, filter your own urine and catch fish with your bare hands, you can make a good life for yourself that way, too.

In just a matter of months - as you forget what it is to communicate with humans and increasingly master the language of the chatty robin and sharp-tongued cardinal - you'll wonder why you ever worried over master's degrees and steady employment to pay for permanent housing and toilet paper.

I don't have to go on to prove that the possibilities are endless, even in today's poor economy. So put down that handle of Jack and get going, tiger! Your future awaits you, and it's starting to look pretty damn good.

Sabrina Noble is a senior majoring in English and creative writing with a flair for avian language acquisition. She can be reached at letters@wildcat.arizona.edu.