le sigh.

I would have written a little earlier in here, but the weeks leading up to graduation were extremely busy, and since then, I've avoided writing here because...I'm afraid.

And a little ashamed.

WHAT will they think of me?

Oh, everything was alright when I still had my senior thesis to soak up my time.  That, at least, was an excuse.  But what excuse do I have now?  For the past week I've been lying on my mother's couch, lounging by the pool, going for long drives or to the beach with my best friend...all a very nice - some might even say well-deserved - break after snagging a B.A. in three years.  But that's not my style.  Even as I hear people tell me to take it easy and not worry about getting a job right away, especially in this economy, my anxiety mounts.

Lots of people already have jobs, I think.  How have I let myself wait this long?!

You'd think that these thoughts would propel me to act - would stir me to pounce on every opportunity, to peer under each stone to see what possibilities lurk beneath (not a very inspiring analogy, I'll admit).

You'd think so, but you'd be mistaken.  One afternoon making a half-hearted attempt at a resume was all it took to have me browsing through grad school programs online.  I'm homesick for the relative lack of responsibility of school; I'm daydreaming about MFAs and time to write and all-nighters and sipping coffee during class while discussing the finer points of literat-yoor.

If I had my druthers, I would be A Writer for a living.  Still, I am not even disciplined enough to write in a blog every day as it is; how will I motivate myself when there is no thesis advisor setting deadlines for me?  Perhaps I could hire a severe-looking Austrian lady to rap my knuckles at regular intervals whenever I'm not working.  Or whenever she finds me perched on the top shelf of the broom closet, eating Milky Way fudge out of the tupperware with my fingers.

Under this motivation I WILL finish my resume; I WILL write those four cover letters; I WILL...probably make myself some deviled eggs and watch an episode of "Important Things with Demetri Martin" after all that.  But THEN I will write at least four hundred words of creative writing, which is my goal because that's how much Terry Pratchett wrote when he had a full-time job, although I should be able to write more than that because I am unemployed; however, despite all my good intentions, by the end of the night I will still probably be found making shadow puppets for the amusement of my dog.




Image via Isn't it Lovely?,.