Okay, so this is a letter I wish I had read back when I was a little more naive for soon-to-be or recent college grads:
Dear Little Miss/Mr. Smarty-pants,
You are not special and life is not AP American History with Mrs. Gershwin in room 247.
In real life, it does not matter that you did everything you were supposed to do. No one cares about your A in computer science or your role as secretary of the Young Whatevers Club.
So, you know how you're going to graduate with your top 10% GPA and your honor societies and your post-middle school braces smile? So is everyone else. And the people below that 10% spent their college years networking (see: partying), so they'll probably actually do better than you.
All across the country (actually, the world) there are a million happy little clams just like you. And unlike the 17 years you've spent in school, just doing what you are supposed to do will not get you ahead of anyone else. America is no longer a manufacturing country (although you wouldn't know it by the American education system, but I digress), and employers aren't amazed by your ability to sit quietly for several hours and complete worksheets/ multiple choice questions. In fact, they're probably going to go "ew."
You're not going to have your dream job right out of college. You're probably not going to go within a few hundred miles of your dream job. Right now, you're poo-pooing all those ads to become an insurance salesman. In a few months, you will be searching for them like a crack whore. Life is not going to be easy and you won't be rewarded for what a good student you were back in the day.
Suck it up and find some semi-livable office job that pays your bills (student loans will probably cost you around $400+ per month). Get some experience and start looking again in a few months or a year when you have some real life under your belt.
You had to prove yourself to your professors/parents/peers, now prove yourself to the world.
XOXO,
Your Future
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
I used to feel...
 |
| post secret |
Now that I've begun actually doing what I want to do instead of what everyone else wants me to do, I feel like I'm actually writing my own story- as the main character.
Friday, July 15, 2011
When you can't work, volunteer!
So, one morning I realized that I wasn't getting anywhere sitting in the house all day getting ignored by potential employers. I enjoy doing things spur of the moment, so I (in a very leisurely and lazy manner) woke up, got ready, and made a dash to the local SPCA.
Unfortunately it was a Sunday and I had missed their open hours by just a few minutes.
So, I actually went online and did my research into volunteering.
The two closest animal shelters are both a bit far. They're less than ten miles away, but in Virginia Beach traffic (re: every road is a pointlessly confusing highway with street lights every 1/8th mile) it could take between 15 and 30 minutes to arrive. Especially when you have no sense of direction, like moi.
Animal Shelter "A" is the Virginia Beach Animal Control, now renamed The Virginia Beach Animal Care and Adoption Center. This establishment is a bit of a hot button for me, because my dog, Dee, was dog-napped, abandoned, and ended up there. Long story short, they gave us bad info about her when we called, so we didn't realize it was her for several days, by which time she had caught some kind of illness there. She died a few weeks later.
At the same time, I understand that it's not all their fault. Do you really think the animal control gets funding for all the 10-year-old dogs and one-eared cats they take in while the politicians are arguing over gay marriage and tea bagging?! No.
Anyway, the VBACAC (wow, long acronym... I'll just go with AC) wants volunteers to bring in some notarized paperwork and report to a volunteer orientation.
Shelter "B" is the previously mention Virginia Beach SPCA, which has no affiliation to the ASPCA since SPCAs are not part of any network/national organization.
I don't have any history with this shelter, but they seem like a very nice, professional place. Their website has the animals, education, and news.
Their volunteering guidelines include paperwork (not notarized) and a $20 fee that gets you your volunteer t-shirt and membership to the shelter.
The floor by the runs was wet, and there were large black plastic floor mats filled with dirty water blocking the path. The cages were just large enough not to be called animal abuse.
It just felt sad. The workers were nice enough, but clearly stressed.
As I stood in the dirty, run-down large dog kennels, one dog, a Siberian Husky, was adopted. As the family pointed him out and he was lead out of the cage, all the other dogs went wild. They jumped up and threw themselves against the wire fences while barking their lonely little heads off.
I cried. There is no way I could go into that building everyday and expect myself not to fall to pieces.
I also did a little bit of research. The VB AC has been cited numerous times for its poor conditions, but the city council won't do anything about it. There was also a fire there not too long ago. Read more here: http://hamptonroads.com/2009/04/aging-beach-animal-shelter-harbors-deadly-dog-virus and http://www.wavy.com/dpp/news/local_news/va_beach/vb-animal-control-catches-fire
I sincerely hope the City of Virginia Beach can give the money needed to at least allow this building to meet code.
A private citizen who kept animals like this would be arrested. I wish the best of luck to the amazing people who show up there everyday to take care of those animals, but me crying in your kennel wouldn't do much to help the adoptions.
Shelter B: VBSPCA
I was a bit downcast after visiting VB AC, but I still decided to visit my other option, the SPCA. I parked my car and was happy to see the nice, modern building (see above photo).
Inside is a large reception/atrium room full of people and animals. I went up to the counter to ask about volunteering and saw two little dogs scampering around inside the circular desk.
I went back to the cattery to see cool glass cages. The normal cages that lined the halls were glass and at least twice the size of the VB AC ones with ledges to climb. The coolest part of the room, though, were the "colonies." The colonies are glass rooms the size of walk in closets full of scratching posts and ledges and toys with several cats living in each one.
I noticed a piece of construction paper on one of the glass cages,
I walked around visiting the cages when I saw a huge gray cat. He looked like the Godfather of cats. When he turned his head to grace me with his presence, I was awed by his enormous colorful eyes. They were dark green and light green and yellow swirled together. That cat had the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen.
The dog kennels were further back from the cattery, and the two rooms are separated by a hallway filled with little "visiting" rooms where people can take an animal to get acquainted with it. They were painted different colors and were generally adorable.
The dog room was basically a giant warehouse-type room lined with kennels surrounding an island of runs. Being a lover of all things cute and tiny, my favorite run was the small dog cage. The SPCA had placed its smallest dogs together in one cage: a Shih Tzu, a Cairn Terrier, a little mutt, and the cutest Pomeranian I have ever seen in my life. I thought it was a little puppy when I first saw it, but it was actually six years old!
He was adopted quickly, but the Shih Tzu, an adorably scared little lady named Harley Quinn is still there. She is a puppy mill rescue who needs a lot of love.
A few of the dogs had kennel cough (basically a dog cold), so they were locked in the back portion of their runs to keep it from spreading.
Everyone I saw in the SPCA was very nice, friendly, and happy. The amazing thing about this animal shelter is that it's completely privately run: they get NO government funding, NO "national SPCA" funding, NOTHING. Their millions of dollars per year budget is raised by volunteers every day!
Clearly, I will be going back!
Volunteer orientation is this coming Thursday. :-)
Unfortunately it was a Sunday and I had missed their open hours by just a few minutes.
So, I actually went online and did my research into volunteering.
The two closest animal shelters are both a bit far. They're less than ten miles away, but in Virginia Beach traffic (re: every road is a pointlessly confusing highway with street lights every 1/8th mile) it could take between 15 and 30 minutes to arrive. Especially when you have no sense of direction, like moi.
Animal Shelter "A" is the Virginia Beach Animal Control, now renamed The Virginia Beach Animal Care and Adoption Center. This establishment is a bit of a hot button for me, because my dog, Dee, was dog-napped, abandoned, and ended up there. Long story short, they gave us bad info about her when we called, so we didn't realize it was her for several days, by which time she had caught some kind of illness there. She died a few weeks later.
 |
| Dee |
At the same time, I understand that it's not all their fault. Do you really think the animal control gets funding for all the 10-year-old dogs and one-eared cats they take in while the politicians are arguing over gay marriage and tea bagging?! No.
Anyway, the VBACAC (wow, long acronym... I'll just go with AC) wants volunteers to bring in some notarized paperwork and report to a volunteer orientation.
 |
| VB AC |
Shelter "B" is the previously mention Virginia Beach SPCA, which has no affiliation to the ASPCA since SPCAs are not part of any network/national organization.
I don't have any history with this shelter, but they seem like a very nice, professional place. Their website has the animals, education, and news.
Their volunteering guidelines include paperwork (not notarized) and a $20 fee that gets you your volunteer t-shirt and membership to the shelter.
 |
| VB SPCA |
I decided to go in an give both of them a look before making a decision about where to commit my time.
Shelter A: VB AC.
The animal control building is probably the most depressing place I've ever been in my life. The inside of the building looks like any stark generic government building that is both necessary and ignored.
It's a very cold and dingy place. All of the animals are in small metal cages stacked on top of one another, except the large dogs; they have runs.
 |
| The large dog runs |
 |
| Not the actual VB AC cages, but similar |
The floor by the runs was wet, and there were large black plastic floor mats filled with dirty water blocking the path. The cages were just large enough not to be called animal abuse.
It just felt sad. The workers were nice enough, but clearly stressed.
As I stood in the dirty, run-down large dog kennels, one dog, a Siberian Husky, was adopted. As the family pointed him out and he was lead out of the cage, all the other dogs went wild. They jumped up and threw themselves against the wire fences while barking their lonely little heads off.
I cried. There is no way I could go into that building everyday and expect myself not to fall to pieces.
I also did a little bit of research. The VB AC has been cited numerous times for its poor conditions, but the city council won't do anything about it. There was also a fire there not too long ago. Read more here: http://hamptonroads.com/2009/04/aging-beach-animal-shelter-harbors-deadly-dog-virus and http://www.wavy.com/dpp/news/local_news/va_beach/vb-animal-control-catches-fire
I sincerely hope the City of Virginia Beach can give the money needed to at least allow this building to meet code.
A private citizen who kept animals like this would be arrested. I wish the best of luck to the amazing people who show up there everyday to take care of those animals, but me crying in your kennel wouldn't do much to help the adoptions.
Shelter B: VBSPCA
I was a bit downcast after visiting VB AC, but I still decided to visit my other option, the SPCA. I parked my car and was happy to see the nice, modern building (see above photo).
Inside is a large reception/atrium room full of people and animals. I went up to the counter to ask about volunteering and saw two little dogs scampering around inside the circular desk.
I went back to the cattery to see cool glass cages. The normal cages that lined the halls were glass and at least twice the size of the VB AC ones with ledges to climb. The coolest part of the room, though, were the "colonies." The colonies are glass rooms the size of walk in closets full of scratching posts and ledges and toys with several cats living in each one.
I noticed a piece of construction paper on one of the glass cages,
I walked around visiting the cages when I saw a huge gray cat. He looked like the Godfather of cats. When he turned his head to grace me with his presence, I was awed by his enormous colorful eyes. They were dark green and light green and yellow swirled together. That cat had the most gorgeous eyes I had ever seen.
 |
| "Pee Wee" - this photo does not do his eyes justice. |
The dog kennels were further back from the cattery, and the two rooms are separated by a hallway filled with little "visiting" rooms where people can take an animal to get acquainted with it. They were painted different colors and were generally adorable.
The dog room was basically a giant warehouse-type room lined with kennels surrounding an island of runs. Being a lover of all things cute and tiny, my favorite run was the small dog cage. The SPCA had placed its smallest dogs together in one cage: a Shih Tzu, a Cairn Terrier, a little mutt, and the cutest Pomeranian I have ever seen in my life. I thought it was a little puppy when I first saw it, but it was actually six years old!
He was adopted quickly, but the Shih Tzu, an adorably scared little lady named Harley Quinn is still there. She is a puppy mill rescue who needs a lot of love.
A few of the dogs had kennel cough (basically a dog cold), so they were locked in the back portion of their runs to keep it from spreading.
Everyone I saw in the SPCA was very nice, friendly, and happy. The amazing thing about this animal shelter is that it's completely privately run: they get NO government funding, NO "national SPCA" funding, NOTHING. Their millions of dollars per year budget is raised by volunteers every day!
Clearly, I will be going back!
Volunteer orientation is this coming Thursday. :-)
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
I was going to post a funny letter
So I got a letter from my grandmother the other day. I was going to type it up on here and let you all have a good laugh, but the truth is, it really hurt my feelings. Nothing in the letter was mean, per se, but...
Let me give you a tiny bit of background about my family: we are dysfunctional. I think a research psychology would find her wet dream if she started studying my family.
That being said, I hadn't seen my grandmother from the time I was 5 or 6 years old until two springs ago when I was 19. That was only for a few days because my mother was staying with her (this was also the last time I saw my mother other than at my sister's wedding a year ago).
I don't make much of an effort to stay connected with my extended family members mainly because we've never been close in any way and my immediate family already stresses me out so much that I really can't handle more. I've always been a loner who was bad with relationships, and my familial relationships are no different.
I think it's really balls-y and rude to send me a letter at a time when I'm so stressed out with phrases in it like, "I didn't know about it until last night when I talked about it with Aunt C. I would of liked to have been invited + be there for you."
Really? You wanted to drive from Erie, PA to the middle of VA to be at my two hour long graduation ceremony and then pack up and leave again? You weren't a part of my life! You're my grandma, and I care for your well being and I will be sad when you leave this earth, but if you cared so much about me, you would have been in my life and would not send me passive aggressive letters.
I always wished I could have the kind of relationship with my family that other people have. One of my best friends was able to lean on her mom for support when her boyfriend and semi-fiance showed his true colors and she had to extract herself from his controlling grip. Other people I know call their family up all the time to tell them about their day or discuss their general thoughts. My family is not like that.
Someday, though, I will create that family for myself. I will not have a family where communication is stunted and hateful. I will not teach my children to fear and evade me. I will have an open relationship with my children and spouse. We will not be perfect, no one is, but we will love each other and be able to express it and lean on one another in times of need.
P.S. Thanks for the tip "A lot of educators are being laid-off, presently. Maybe a government job would be a thought."
P.P.S. Tomorrow I will write a blog about the good things happening in my life and it will be cute and maybe a little funny in a few parts. Promise :-D
Vent post OVER AND OUT!
Let me give you a tiny bit of background about my family: we are dysfunctional. I think a research psychology would find her wet dream if she started studying my family.
That being said, I hadn't seen my grandmother from the time I was 5 or 6 years old until two springs ago when I was 19. That was only for a few days because my mother was staying with her (this was also the last time I saw my mother other than at my sister's wedding a year ago).
I don't make much of an effort to stay connected with my extended family members mainly because we've never been close in any way and my immediate family already stresses me out so much that I really can't handle more. I've always been a loner who was bad with relationships, and my familial relationships are no different.
I think it's really balls-y and rude to send me a letter at a time when I'm so stressed out with phrases in it like, "I didn't know about it until last night when I talked about it with Aunt C. I would of liked to have been invited + be there for you."
Really? You wanted to drive from Erie, PA to the middle of VA to be at my two hour long graduation ceremony and then pack up and leave again? You weren't a part of my life! You're my grandma, and I care for your well being and I will be sad when you leave this earth, but if you cared so much about me, you would have been in my life and would not send me passive aggressive letters.
I always wished I could have the kind of relationship with my family that other people have. One of my best friends was able to lean on her mom for support when her boyfriend and semi-fiance showed his true colors and she had to extract herself from his controlling grip. Other people I know call their family up all the time to tell them about their day or discuss their general thoughts. My family is not like that.
Someday, though, I will create that family for myself. I will not have a family where communication is stunted and hateful. I will not teach my children to fear and evade me. I will have an open relationship with my children and spouse. We will not be perfect, no one is, but we will love each other and be able to express it and lean on one another in times of need.
P.S. Thanks for the tip "A lot of educators are being laid-off, presently. Maybe a government job would be a thought."
P.P.S. Tomorrow I will write a blog about the good things happening in my life and it will be cute and maybe a little funny in a few parts. Promise :-D
Vent post OVER AND OUT!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
The "Artist's" Assistant Gig
Wow.
So, today I had the most ridiculous "job interview" of my life.
It all started with a Craigslist ad (exactly, this is going to be a good story!) for an Artist's Assistant, which the ad defined as someone to run the blog/ social media side of the business as well as general PR and keeping the artist company.
These are things I can totally do. Plus, I was totally psyched to hang out with and help a real artist- like, an artist who sells their work. I imagined a mentorship of unequal-able magnitude.
I imagined learning the craft, refining my own skills, being mentioned in famous blogs when the artist did interviews. I imagined my perfect artsy-fartsy life.
I drafted an e-mail full of youthful hope and my impeccable resume. I highlighted all the things I had done in college, my extensive PR work with different organizations, my own Etsy shop- all of it laid bare.
Then came the response with a link to the "artist"s website at the bottom.
She sells hand-painted glasses.
You might be thinking to yourself "Wow, this girl is such a snob. Hand-painted glasses are art!"
Well, you didn't see the glasses. They're bargain bin glassware with giant 40's or 21's painted on them and "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" painted around the base. It's like every sorority girl's craft box threw up on this woman's website. Seriously, though, her "hand-painted glasses" aren't even as cute as the one my big in APO made for me during our sophomore year.
Even after the double-whammy red flag fest of Craigslist + hand-painted glasses, I figured it could still be a good job. My hopes and dreams of one day appearing in art museums may have been dashed, but maybe it would be some nice housewife with a tricked-out craft room or an older lady whose children had all gone off into the world.
I didn't know, but it didn't seem like such a bad setup.
Today was the morning of my "interview." I got up at what seemed like the crack of dawn (8:45am) and made my way over to her "studio."
Her studio was really her modest (re: super shitty and vaguely scary) suburban home. The house is a one story mustard yellow, ranch-style house from the 70s with busted rust colored shutters. The other homes on the street were nice, but this one hadn't had any work done on it since maybe 1987. At the latest.
This beautiful picture was framed with two old (OLD) Cadillacs in the driveway. I'm not sure either of them could run.
Then I felt bad for being judgmental of this home's appearance. I didn't know who lived there or what kind of life they had. Bad me!
So, I sucked up my three red flag warnings and went to the front door and knocked. Through the glass, I could see piles of shit- hoarder level piles of bed foam, paper, trash, etc.
She (who I shall call "Sally"), a large 40 or 50 something white woman, answered the door wearing nothing but a giant Grateful Dead band t-shirt. She may have been wearing shorts under it, but if so I couldn't see them and I'm pretty sure those giant, saggy titties were not being helped by a bra.
She led me through her mess into an unfinished (or just trashed, not sure) side room with a computer, two other women, and a paper, trash, and paint covered table. She sat down at the table and gestured for me to sit in the broken computer chair, which I did.
She clearly took this job search far too seriously or had already made up her mind not to hire me, because she was a huge bitch.
Sally turned to me from her folding chair and 1'x1' area of clean space and said, "We need someone to get our brand out there on social media and I can't offer you guidance because I don't know what to do. Tell me about yourself."
Within two minutes of being inside her house, she said, "I don't know anything about social media, and I don't think you're right for the job."
Awkward silence. Like... do I leave?
She scoffed at my suggestion to use Tumblr for its photo quality and to advertise on Craftopolis, and her true intentions/desires came out, "I want someone with 1000 friends on Facebook and 10000 Twitter followers to talk about my glasses. Is that something you have?"
Me: "No."
Her: "Well, thank you for your time. Bye."
She didn't want someone to work with her and help her get her own internet following, she wanted someone to pimp out her shitty craft projects on their already popular blog. I didn't bother explaining to her that she wouldn't find someone with what she wanted but that I could do good posts, etc for her and find her some popular blogs to be featured on. I left.
Anyway, the woman is clearly delusional and I had a really good laugh on the ride home.
So, today I had the most ridiculous "job interview" of my life.
It all started with a Craigslist ad (exactly, this is going to be a good story!) for an Artist's Assistant, which the ad defined as someone to run the blog/ social media side of the business as well as general PR and keeping the artist company.
 |
| ACTUAL AD |
These are things I can totally do. Plus, I was totally psyched to hang out with and help a real artist- like, an artist who sells their work. I imagined a mentorship of unequal-able magnitude.
I imagined learning the craft, refining my own skills, being mentioned in famous blogs when the artist did interviews. I imagined my perfect artsy-fartsy life.
I drafted an e-mail full of youthful hope and my impeccable resume. I highlighted all the things I had done in college, my extensive PR work with different organizations, my own Etsy shop- all of it laid bare.
Then came the response with a link to the "artist"s website at the bottom.
She sells hand-painted glasses.
You might be thinking to yourself "Wow, this girl is such a snob. Hand-painted glasses are art!"
Well, you didn't see the glasses. They're bargain bin glassware with giant 40's or 21's painted on them and "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" painted around the base. It's like every sorority girl's craft box threw up on this woman's website. Seriously, though, her "hand-painted glasses" aren't even as cute as the one my big in APO made for me during our sophomore year.
 |
| DRAMATIC REPRESENTATION OF UGLY CRAFT PROJECT |
Even after the double-whammy red flag fest of Craigslist + hand-painted glasses, I figured it could still be a good job. My hopes and dreams of one day appearing in art museums may have been dashed, but maybe it would be some nice housewife with a tricked-out craft room or an older lady whose children had all gone off into the world.
I didn't know, but it didn't seem like such a bad setup.
Today was the morning of my "interview." I got up at what seemed like the crack of dawn (8:45am) and made my way over to her "studio."
Her studio was really her modest (re: super shitty and vaguely scary) suburban home. The house is a one story mustard yellow, ranch-style house from the 70s with busted rust colored shutters. The other homes on the street were nice, but this one hadn't had any work done on it since maybe 1987. At the latest.
This beautiful picture was framed with two old (OLD) Cadillacs in the driveway. I'm not sure either of them could run.
 |
| DRAMATIC REPRESENTATION OF SHITTY CAR |
Then I felt bad for being judgmental of this home's appearance. I didn't know who lived there or what kind of life they had. Bad me!
So, I sucked up my three red flag warnings and went to the front door and knocked. Through the glass, I could see piles of shit- hoarder level piles of bed foam, paper, trash, etc.
She (who I shall call "Sally"), a large 40 or 50 something white woman, answered the door wearing nothing but a giant Grateful Dead band t-shirt. She may have been wearing shorts under it, but if so I couldn't see them and I'm pretty sure those giant, saggy titties were not being helped by a bra.
 |
| DRAMATIC REPRESENTATION OF SALLY & HER MESS- THOUGH THIS WOMAN IS CLEARLY NICER AND WEARING MORE CLOTHING. |
She led me through her mess into an unfinished (or just trashed, not sure) side room with a computer, two other women, and a paper, trash, and paint covered table. She sat down at the table and gestured for me to sit in the broken computer chair, which I did.
She clearly took this job search far too seriously or had already made up her mind not to hire me, because she was a huge bitch.
Sally turned to me from her folding chair and 1'x1' area of clean space and said, "We need someone to get our brand out there on social media and I can't offer you guidance because I don't know what to do. Tell me about yourself."
Within two minutes of being inside her house, she said, "I don't know anything about social media, and I don't think you're right for the job."
Awkward silence. Like... do I leave?
She scoffed at my suggestion to use Tumblr for its photo quality and to advertise on Craftopolis, and her true intentions/desires came out, "I want someone with 1000 friends on Facebook and 10000 Twitter followers to talk about my glasses. Is that something you have?"
 |
| DRAMATIC REPRESENTATION OF WHAT SHE WANTS IN AN EMPLOYEE |
Me: "No."
Her: "Well, thank you for your time. Bye."
She didn't want someone to work with her and help her get her own internet following, she wanted someone to pimp out her shitty craft projects on their already popular blog. I didn't bother explaining to her that she wouldn't find someone with what she wanted but that I could do good posts, etc for her and find her some popular blogs to be featured on. I left.
Anyway, the woman is clearly delusional and I had a really good laugh on the ride home.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Sabotage
Do you have a friend who is relatively smart and talented, but just can't seem to do anything with their life?
I do. It's me. I'm a self-saboteur.
Right now (and really all day) I should be showering, getting myself all cute, and shooting a video to send to schools for employment. The agency actually told me to do it back in April.
I've been watching old episodes of Degrassi all day. I've been watching Canadian TV instead of trying to get myself a job. I have two job applications on the floor next to me as well. They've been there since last week.
It might seem like I'm just lazy or an idiot, but I'm not. I just can't do it. I'm sabotaging myself because I can't fail if I don't try. And if I try I will fail.
I see everyone else succeeding around me, and I don't understand why I'm so incompetent. I don't really understand how this whole thing works. I try to look for something, but I get so overwhelmed and I always seem to be getting into the weirdest situations.
How do normal people do it?! Get a job and carry on with life like it's so easy?
I do. It's me. I'm a self-saboteur.
Right now (and really all day) I should be showering, getting myself all cute, and shooting a video to send to schools for employment. The agency actually told me to do it back in April.
I've been watching old episodes of Degrassi all day. I've been watching Canadian TV instead of trying to get myself a job. I have two job applications on the floor next to me as well. They've been there since last week.
It might seem like I'm just lazy or an idiot, but I'm not. I just can't do it. I'm sabotaging myself because I can't fail if I don't try. And if I try I will fail.
I see everyone else succeeding around me, and I don't understand why I'm so incompetent. I don't really understand how this whole thing works. I try to look for something, but I get so overwhelmed and I always seem to be getting into the weirdest situations.
How do normal people do it?! Get a job and carry on with life like it's so easy?
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Well, I just redesigned the blog...
I was inspired by my Greek life big and good friend over at New Place, New Experiences to chronicle my new post-grad life.
That girl has got it together. I've always admired her for her ability to go out and grab whatever she wanted- and succeeding.
In comparison, I'm kind of a little pansy. School always came easily to me. Stick me in any class, and I'd do well. In fact, I'd excel.
Put me in any real life situation and I crumble under the pressure. I even panic when I have to order at Subway.
Point being, I have no idea what I'm going to do now... or, for that matter, what I want to do.
If I am capable of keeping myself from having panic attacks while doing it, I hope to chronicle my unplanned adulthood here.
That girl has got it together. I've always admired her for her ability to go out and grab whatever she wanted- and succeeding.
In comparison, I'm kind of a little pansy. School always came easily to me. Stick me in any class, and I'd do well. In fact, I'd excel.
Put me in any real life situation and I crumble under the pressure. I even panic when I have to order at Subway.
Point being, I have no idea what I'm going to do now... or, for that matter, what I want to do.
If I am capable of keeping myself from having panic attacks while doing it, I hope to chronicle my unplanned adulthood here.
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