My own conscious uncoupling

I sat my finals, went to graduation (was I the only one who was oddly disappointed that my mandatory photo was taken not with my actual diploma, but with a fake arts and crafts mock up?) and I graduated. I am finished with education. After a lifetime of being defined as a student, of being able to easily and succinctly place myself in a category on any given form, after five years of student discount and little responsibility I am a fully fledged adult.

Don’t get me wrong I am frankly over the blinkin’ moon, stars, and whatever other celestial matter reigns over the night sky, to not be a student. Being poor, mostly bored and feeling of little value gave me even less joy. I do not enjoy clubbing nor do I enjoy heavy carbs or periods of inactivity. (I was an arts student and I can assure you the clichés are sadly true, few contact hours and an above minimal effort got me a 2:1.) Whilst many people have bravely chosen to ignore and postpone their future by throwing themselves into a Masters programme, I am very happy to leave that student life far behind. However, in this supposedly utopian vision of limitless possibilities I am finding myself somewhat lost. If I was cleverer I would now refer wittily and confidently to Sartre and his existential angst, because I would imagine that fluently explains how I feel. Instead I will simply state I feel lost, confused and bewildered.

I was promised that a degree would open doors, that in the metaphor of life as a building my biggest problem would be breaking the glass ceiling. However, I cannot seem to even gain entry; I feel like I am banging at the windows and kicking at the doors- frankly any ceiling; glass, concrete or otherwise would be very welcome. Of course, the whole ordeal would be slightly easier if I knew what I actually wanted to do.

I think of Teach First, of welfare, of charity work and my head gets muddled and my heart heavy. Because what I really want to do is write and make people laugh. I want to write honestly and openly about life and for people to read and feel a little bit better. To feel assured that they are not alone so that is why I have decided to write a blog.

 Incidentally I also read in the Daily Mail that someone wrote a blog about being unemployed which led to an actual job in journalism. And I am somewhat hopeful that an important person in an impressive magazine will read this and feel compelled to hire me. Because, quite frankly, the moment you realise the cast of Made in Chelsea are career wise doing better than you, you begin to question your own life choices.

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