When I first applied to college, I was well aware that my financial package was going to include a work-study job, as it did for most of my siblings. This meant that even though I would be attending a difficult private university across the country where I knew absolutely no one and nothing, I had to simultaneously search for "help wanted" signs at my school's library.

In no way is my case unique, as about ten percent of all college students receive federal-work study. I knew that there were going to be many other people in my situation, so I had to suck it up and make it work. I was employed at my local grocery store back home, but a high school academic load is not nearly intensive as college. Other kids would be doing the same thing as me, though, so I figured if other students could handle it, I could too.

I applied for virtually every job opportunity I saw, even if it wasn't necessarily the most glamorous opportunity (not many kids want to do basic janitorial work). Employers usually offered quite a few hours, since they knew that the academic course load was strenuous at our school, so I felt like I would reach the optimal balance in the classic "work versus sleep versus social" triangle.

It was my last job interview where I discovered something I never thought I could find: a job I was actually passionate about. I would be working for the theatre department, doing occasional coffee runs and remedial tasks, but mostly collaborating with actors and running around backstage during shows. I predominantly acted in high school, but I thought this change of pace could help me really understand the theatre industry in a way that I never did before.

Of course, anyone who knows theatre knows that, behind the scenes, it is much more vigorous than what the average public eyes see. At the end of the day, the audience watches one show and they don't really understand the months of hard work, of line calls, of repeatedly yelling at actors who do not pay attention during these line calls. Although I was previously warned that the job would be more work than what conventional college employers were offering, I immediately accepted the position.

What followed was months of late night rehearsals until midnight and lonely study sessions in the library at two in the morning as I tried to finish all of my homework. I was running straight from class to work to the library almost every day, and even though I loved it, I had no time to participate in what other college first years were doing: meeting new people and interacting.

Of course, I would talk with actors and my fellow employees, but it was mostly about blocking and when to move a certain prop from one side to another. I'd watch a sea of college students flee from the dorms on Saturday night, grouping up to see a movie or party until morning. I, on the other hand, would be returning home from a long shift and miss out on the potential opportunities to meet new people.

In high school, I viewed myself as an extrovert, but I felt like I had missed my chance. A month in, everyone seemed to have solidified a group, but I was on the outside covered in coffee stains and stage tape.

This is the type of imbalance that I am both frustrated with yet grateful for. It may be difficult to branch out now that everyone seems to know their people, but it pushes me to go out of my comfort zone. Plus, at the end of the day, I'm thankful that my college allows me to work to pay for tuition. Even though it is time-consuming, I love my job, which is something I could not say about being a cashier in high school. Other jobs may not include the chaos of dress rehearsals and the shine of bright stage lights burning your eyes, but those jobs aren't worth it to me.

No, I have not found a balance yet. I'm still trying to figure out how to be both a student and an employee and a social butterfly. Everyone is trying to find this ideal sense of stability during their first year of college, but having a job adds another obstacle that some people will never have to grow accustomed to.

For my fellow working first years, don't be discouraged if you're almost done with your first semester and still trying to find your place. I'm still trying to discover mine, hoping it's at the bottom of every coffee pot poured drown the drain after a long rehearsal. I won't lie and say it doesn't get lonely, but I know that I have already met some of "my people," and there are others out there. I just have to look for them.

Maybe in the future, those people can even join me at the library at midnight. I mean, there's nothing like an essay deadline to bring college students together.