wash away the dirt
May. 12th, 2010 11:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hawkwing_lbSo. Um.
Apparently I'm finished college now. I'm still not sure how this is supposed to work. There was something in the manual about being a responsible adult now? But, you know. I still feel like a teenage imposter.
Even though I'm twenty-four in two months. Twenty-freaking-four. I still find it hard to believe I've lived this long. Weird, huh? Four years ago, I didn't think I'd make it this far, much less finish the degree. Just goes to show. Can't let the bastards keep you down. Even if they're only the voices in your head.
What I'd like to do, around now, is find a job that doesn't actively make me want to slit my throat inside six weeks, and then, finally start living like a bloody adult. You know. Rent and bills and all that boring stuff that happens when you have your own space. Unfortunately, the jobs market here is shit. No, seriously. Shit.
Anyone in places foreign have an opening for a bright young ancient history (almost) graduate?
So at the moment I'm getting my shit together for making postgraduate applications, and hoping my brain grows back before existential angst eats me alive. Oh noes! The terrible gravity of living! The heavy burden of existential uncertainty!
(Inside Schroedinger's box, does the cat know whether it's alive or dead?)
I think I might need to talk to someone again, though. Professionally. My coping mechanisms have worn a little thin, this last while. It might be worthwhile seeing if I can shore the them up. Irrational terror... yeah. Not the best way to face the changing stages of life, right?
Apparently I'm finished college now. I'm still not sure how this is supposed to work. There was something in the manual about being a responsible adult now? But, you know. I still feel like a teenage imposter.
Even though I'm twenty-four in two months. Twenty-freaking-four. I still find it hard to believe I've lived this long. Weird, huh? Four years ago, I didn't think I'd make it this far, much less finish the degree. Just goes to show. Can't let the bastards keep you down. Even if they're only the voices in your head.
What I'd like to do, around now, is find a job that doesn't actively make me want to slit my throat inside six weeks, and then, finally start living like a bloody adult. You know. Rent and bills and all that boring stuff that happens when you have your own space. Unfortunately, the jobs market here is shit. No, seriously. Shit.
Anyone in places foreign have an opening for a bright young ancient history (almost) graduate?
So at the moment I'm getting my shit together for making postgraduate applications, and hoping my brain grows back before existential angst eats me alive. Oh noes! The terrible gravity of living! The heavy burden of existential uncertainty!
(Inside Schroedinger's box, does the cat know whether it's alive or dead?)
I think I might need to talk to someone again, though. Professionally. My coping mechanisms have worn a little thin, this last while. It might be worthwhile seeing if I can shore the them up. Irrational terror... yeah. Not the best way to face the changing stages of life, right?
