That Dreaded Question

Being a senior in college, approaching graduation day, gives me a little bit of deja vu. Brings me back to senior year of high school when everyone's parents, family and friends would ask that dreaded question: "What school are you going to next year?" (Thankfully, I went to a high school where over 90% of my graduating class went to college after graduation, or else this question would have the potential to be a lot more awkward). At this point, a lot of us had already committed to schools, but the majority of ma peeps were still undecided...had no effing clue where they were going, what they were studying, what they were having for dinner that night. So now, four incredible years later (the best years of our lives?), that dreaded question is haunting us once again: "What are your plans for after graduation?" My answer? Fuck. Off.

What's with all the pressure to dive right into the real world (it even sounds daunting), to start a full-time salaried job the week after getting your diploma, to be a slave to that 9-5? Sorry I'm not sorry, but I am 21 years old. I have at least another 45 years to develop a career, to work five (or more) days a week, 50 weeks a year, no summers off, no spring break, no long weekends, no personal days when I feel like skipping class, no university-sponsored trips to Las Vegas or New Orleans. What's the rush?


I understand the excitement about getting a job offer. I envy you. You will no longer be broke as a joke, taking advantage of free pizza during free periods (who cares, or knows, what meeting you're at), begging for money, pinching pennies, being behind on rent. Yeah, it will be great. Maybe I'm being a baby, scared of change, but whatEVER. I would rather take some time off, and, for the last time in your entire life, enjoy the freedom and flexibility that you have while it lasts; take advantage of your student discounts and mornings off, binge drinking and bad decision-making. After all, that drinking habit after graduation is no longer "college," it's called "alcoholism."

So as an alternative to the real world, I'm once again putting my procrastination skills to good use in coming up with ways to postpone full-time employment for as long as possible. Whether it's the PeaceCorps, grad school, or just simple a "year off to travel," I will do whatever it takes to fight the reason I've spent the last four years in school: getting a job (and not living on my parents' couch). Because it's not that I can't get a job, it's that I don't want to. So stop asking, leave me alone, and enjoy your life being trapped inside a windowless cubicle. But please, send some of your real person salary my way, because we sure as hell know I'll be needing it...

I Don't Want to Hear It

So we all agree: I'm the worst blogger of all time. I haven't updated since December. I get it. Now can we move on?

Recap: Barcelona

The food was bangin', the weather was perfect, starting 2012 by watching the sunrise on the beach was breathtaking. In a few pixxx, here is a brief summary:

paella...ohmygod 

 jamon

In other news, my last semester of college has begun. Thankfully every class I'm taking is a joke, but I have far too much free time on my hands, no job, and am broke as a joke. Any donations please send Priority Mail to Gay Street ASAP, thanks babs.

Although Spring Break 2012 was (is) a complete bust, and rather than spending a week soaking up the sun in fun tropical places I'm sitting on my ass in Philly (with a brief appearance in B-Lo for a little lovin'), there are some bright moments in the near future that are getting me through the next couple of weeks. What are they, you ask?

Saint. Patrick's. Day.
The best day of the year.
No green bagels will be consumed, because I made the idiotic decision to give up bread for Lent, but who needs carbz in food form when you can drown yourself in carbz of the beer variety? No one.

holler

Shortly following this momentous occasion comes the highlight of the American Marketing Association's existence: the Intercollegiate Conference (read: NOLA). Quality time with my boo (not you, Cheese...I'm talking about Dave), wobbling on Bourbon Street, hurricanes and hand grenades, 80 degree weather, and shoving my face with beignets... who needs Spring Break when you have NOLA?!

And on that note...I'm off. Promise it won't be another three months before I update again. But haven't I said that before? My B. Deal with it.