(no subject)
I do believe that my decision to take a year off between potentailly applying to Grad School was a bad idea. A
Admittedly there is no way that I would actually get into grad school becuase I haven't written a complete piece all year, and have not written a single thing (not couting freelancing) since my fiction portfolio was due.
And now that I am two days away from graduating it seems all that people want to ask me is "what are you going into?" or "what sort of work are you looking for?"
Normally this wouldn't bother me, but it's embarassing to say "well, actually I'm crawling on my hands and knees, fucking begging someone to take me in at the mall or retail or somewhere becuase I banked on this job that had health insurance and I finally got an interview a month after I applied but then I blew it by getting nervous and making small talk with the interveiwers about the squirrel that I killed on my way to the interview."
I can't seem to bring myself to go apply at the mall yet, and I'm nervous about manpower.
I can't even manage to be productive enough to write the articles for the sort-of-job that I have now.
Side note: Four weddings in four weeks. Gouge my fucking eyes out. Three of them are with Matt, that is three times the family and law school friends and three times me in my awkward cotton dresses that don't fit because my mom made them for me in highschool and I can't sit down or stand without the seams ripping unless I cross my legs or stand like I'm in a JC Penny underwear ad. (Jenny don't worry, I'm looking forward to Mary's!)
At least I wasn't one of the FIVE women who came to wedding in strapless black spandex tube dresses with asswhite bleached hair. What is this, a fucking MC Hammer music video?
Admittedly there is no way that I would actually get into grad school becuase I haven't written a complete piece all year, and have not written a single thing (not couting freelancing) since my fiction portfolio was due.
And now that I am two days away from graduating it seems all that people want to ask me is "what are you going into?" or "what sort of work are you looking for?"
Normally this wouldn't bother me, but it's embarassing to say "well, actually I'm crawling on my hands and knees, fucking begging someone to take me in at the mall or retail or somewhere becuase I banked on this job that had health insurance and I finally got an interview a month after I applied but then I blew it by getting nervous and making small talk with the interveiwers about the squirrel that I killed on my way to the interview."
I can't seem to bring myself to go apply at the mall yet, and I'm nervous about manpower.
I can't even manage to be productive enough to write the articles for the sort-of-job that I have now.
Side note: Four weddings in four weeks. Gouge my fucking eyes out. Three of them are with Matt, that is three times the family and law school friends and three times me in my awkward cotton dresses that don't fit because my mom made them for me in highschool and I can't sit down or stand without the seams ripping unless I cross my legs or stand like I'm in a JC Penny underwear ad. (Jenny don't worry, I'm looking forward to Mary's!)
At least I wasn't one of the FIVE women who came to wedding in strapless black spandex tube dresses with asswhite bleached hair. What is this, a fucking MC Hammer music video?