Life of a third year

People keep asking me, ‘What are you going to do when you graduate?’ which seems to me a disgustingly scary version of ‘What are you going to do when you grow up?’. The latter seems to be directed at those (i.e. seven year olds) who think ‘growing up’ is something far off in the distance, and needn’t be something to worry about as it is far away and not a threat. The first question is something that not only isn’t far away (8 months and counting), it is scary, it is a threat and it is almost impossible to find the right answer to. Far from being the best time of your life, with the world at your feet, you are thrust into a lot of pressure as you enter the world of work, aka, the ‘real world’.

Yes, the real world. No more waking up at 11am on weekdays, no more using your student card to get discounts at Miss Selfridge, no more days spent of watching TV programmes back to back (since starting university, I am now updated on New Girl, Game of Thrones, Desperate Housewives, Girlfriends, The O.C., The Tudors…). Instead, please say hello to council tax, tax in general, paying full price for things, the occasional grey hair and getting a cat because you constantly mourn for the days of hangovers, duvets and fried chicken.

At the moment, I am working on my C.V and I hate it. I am no good at bigging myself up without feeling horrendously arrogant. I sometimes wish there was a different way to see how suitable a person is for a job, instead of a poor employer scrolling through paper documents, each claiming that their creator is the best and the most dedicated and has the most transferable skills – when in fact, the person who wrote those exact words has just spent an hour watching the different reactions to Miley Cyrus twerking rather than work on his or her dissertation plan. My, er, friend, is so unmotivated…

I guess I am hoping that someone will discover me as the perfect employee by reading this. They can see I’m not good at swimming, that I was once easily manipulated by a sales job and then able to write a scathing and witty review of when the curtain of lies was lifted, and that I am quite good at having a moan. I’m just like a typical English lass then, aren’t I? Please refer to earlier posts to see what I mean.

I always seem to go off on tangents when I blog. It’s like stream of consciousness writing, but not as pretentious and soul discovering. So here is a picture of Miley Cyrus.

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