I can't even believe that still, all I want to do is sit down and write some fucking stories and send them to fucking magazines, and I can't believe that I'm still too chickenshit to do it. I guess it's good that I spent $40,000 on something that will not help people hire me.
English degrees are bullshit. When you're an undergraduate, people tell you to follow your dreams. I watch people follow their dreams every weekend at the art college library I work at. I want to tell them that their sketches are beautiful, but they will be in the same shitty river as everyone else when they graduate. You SHOULD follow your passions, especially if your passions include accounting, engineering, or science. If your passions fall outside of those tantalizing realms, you are invited to join my book club. I will give you enough notice to buy the book used online, because you will never make enough money to afford full retail price at Barnes & Noble ever again. Except for maybe the week after your birthday or Christmas.
I don't regret my degree. I would love to be a librarian. But as I face some really bleak job prospects, about to finish my degree, I can't help wonder what the fuck am I supposed to do? I currently work full-time at the publishing company and 16 hours at the library on weekends. It's fucking stupid insane.
Anyways, I'm only writing this blog post to avoid finishing a paper. My second to last assignment in grad school. I wonder what my next avoiding to write waste of time and money will be.