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I wake up every morning, not knowing why I am up so damn early, and wondering why I do this to myself every single day. I place my feet on the floor, rub my eyes, and try to adjust to the blinding sunlight that comes through my paper thin blinds. As I contemplate what I’m doing, I realize that the job I have is worse than dropping the soap in a prison shower, and I don’t know what to do about it. I rack my brain day after day thinking of things I could do to make this postgrad life just a bit better, but every time I think of something I could possibly do, I become unsure that I even want to do that.
Become a basketball coach? I would absolutely love to do that. Problem is you need to know someone, who knows someone, who knows someone to even get your foot in the door. Try being a comedian? That sounds like a blast. Oh wait, I’m not that funny and would probably get booed off stage. Maybe become a writer. I mean heck, I write for this site, that must count for something right? I sure hope so, but what do I know? I usually have more grammatical errors in my writing than a second grader putting together their first paragraph.
A lot of people say that you’re not supposed to have your life completely figured out at my age, but you’re supposed to have an idea, aren’t you? The job I have now has nothing to do with what I studied the past four years — giving us all another reason to believe that your major doesn’t mean anything at all. My job would be bearable if I had a good salary, or if the company gave a shit about the peons rotting at their desks, but they don’t. And that puts me in the situation I am in today.
What in the blue hell (Stone Cold voice) am I doing with my life? And the answer is: I have no idea. I don’t have a clue about what I want to do. Could it come back to bite me at some point? Yes, more than likely. Am I worried about it? Nope, not at all. I’ll cross that bridge when I have to. On the bright side, at least I have men’s league to look forward to..
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Respond
@RPShee
I feel for ya, but we need to work on your analogies, most people don’t want to go to work, but I would argue no one wants to be raped in prison.
Although you could argue our jobs are raping us everyday, only instead of our anuses being ripped, it’s our optimism for life. #cubethoughts
Except no one is “forcing” you to work, and you’re getting compensated for it, so in my opinion it would be more like pimping yourself to pay for your meth addiction.
I feel like society is doing a good job forcing us to work. And if you make just enough money to break even, it’s not really compensation.
…yes it is. Making money to pay for your needs is exactly what compensation is, regardless of whether or not you have anything left.
I don’t think you grasp the concept of what a society is or the very basic definition of “compensation,” aside from your cats compensating for some sort of shortcoming you must have.
I think you guys may have overanalyzed this…
I can confirm.
Compensation: noun; something, typically money, awarded to someone as a recompense for loss, injury, or suffering.
It’s definitely the suffering that they’re compensating for.
I think these things EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Studied biology for 4 years and work in construction now. Every time I think of something I might want to do, I question it. But hey, that’s future me’s problem. Men’s league and #marglife are good enough for me right now.
Short & sweet. Just like my sex life
Is this a long text message or an article?
If you are between the age of 21-30 and your dream is becoming a basketball coach (high school at best, no doubt) then you probably shouldn’t be writing columns for this website…