You know what’s really cool in today’s economy? Getting a job right after graduation. You know what’s slightly less cool? Getting a job right after graduation that only lasts until Election Day, which is exactly what I did. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been an invaluable experience, and reassuring concerned relatives I wasn’t going to starve to death was a great feeling, but ultimately all I accomplished was pausing my job search-induced freakout another four months. I guess I should have said, “I’m not going to starve to death… yet.” when I was talking to my grandma.
I’m sick again because my immune system checked my calendar and noticed this would be a really bad week for me to be less than functional. My white blood cells schedule all their fights for the days I have a lot to do. It’s a fun game we like to play.
I’m not good at getting sick. In an ideal world, I would get unearthly pale and sit in my bed embroidering something while people fretted around me. I’d bravely said things like, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll pull through.” with a weak, tragic smile. If it was bad enough, I’d die with a tiny sigh and a promising poetry career cut tragically short. Also, for some reason I’d be blonde.
If there’s one thing the internet likes, it’s boobs. If there are two things the internet likes, it’s boobs and cats. But if there are three things the internet really likes, it’s boobs, cats, and inspirational lists. You can find them on any carpe diem-themed blog, and for some reason they’re especially popular on travel blogs.
They’re always called “50 Things I’ve Learned By Age 50″, or “86 Things My 86-Year-Old Grandma Taught Me (Most Of Which You’re Going to Skip Because 86 Things Is 85 Too Many)”. I never, ever read these lists in their entirety, and I suspect no one does. I start them with the best intentions, but as soon as I read #3 or #4 (it’s always something like, “Whenever God closes a door, he opens a window because God hates air conditioning hahaha”) I get bored, and then I’m off to some other site to look at cats or boobs. (Mostly cats. I have my own boobs.)
The trouble with vacations is that they give you way too much time to think. I just came back from a vacation that I spent sitting around reading books, eating things that were frighteningly orange, making lists, and having an existential meltdown.
Long story short, I’m graduating in May with no idea what to do with my life and it recently occurred me that eventually I’m going to be old and decrepit. (I’m fun!) How easy would it be to get stuck in some job I feel apathetic towards and waste decades of life? SO EASY, is the answer to that. I know this is absurd and that it doesn’t matter what I pick because I can change my mind. I keep telling myself that, but it isn’t working. The only thing I’m sure I’ll be when I graduate is the kind of obnoxiously pretentious person who claims to have existential crises. The point of this story is that I’ve had a relapse of the second-to-worst kind.
Today while failing to fight the side-effects of Dayquil, I wrote a long, rambling Facebook status update about pickles. I’m disappointed in myself. It’s not the pickle rant itself that I’m ashamed of– I always think crazy things when I’m sick and last time I took this much Dayquil I drew a surprisingly intricate picture of a fruit fly.