Elspeth (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
vintage_belle) wrote2007-11-25 10:51 pm
vintage_belle) wrote2007-11-25 10:51 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
It has struck once more: the feeling that my school schedule is really quite strange. It can't be helped, really, because my school is a trimester. But honestly. Going home for five days (four and a half, really, because Sunday is meant for traveling), back to school for about two weeks, and then back home for the holidays. It's quite silly if you think about it.
Thanksgiving was Chanukkah come early, since I won't be home for most of the actual holiday. I believe it ends on the 13th - I'll be home on the 12th. It meant I got two new pairs of pants, six new shirts (four of which came at two for $15), and three pairs of very cute shoes (two of which were on sale - the total was less than $95). I asked my parents, again, for a 500 gig external harddrive. I might actually get it this time.
Of course with going home comes The Talk that I inevitably sit through: the What Are You Going to do After School? talk. It's not enough to be applying to JET. I have to know now, right now, if I want to go to graduate school, and if I do which school do I want to go to and what do I want to do, and if I don't, what sort of jobs am I looking to get.
The trouble is I don't know any of these things. I've never been one to plan for the future. Ask my parents - they'll be the first to tell you how much I detested the thought of growing up as a kid. Look and act older than my age? Why would I want to do that?
I don't know what I want to do with my life.
If I had my way I'd be a starving artist on the streets or living on ten dollars a week in a one bedroom flat with five other people. Unfortunately the sixties are behind us. As it is I don't have any particularly marketable skills, and I've spent enough time doing deskjob work to know that I refuse to even consider it. I'd sooner join the army. I want to do theatre. I want to write. I have no Could Actually Make a Living on This Plan C (the thought had been to be discovered as a brilliant singer by eighteen, but that clearly didn't happen).
This whole growing up thing sucks.
Thanksgiving was Chanukkah come early, since I won't be home for most of the actual holiday. I believe it ends on the 13th - I'll be home on the 12th. It meant I got two new pairs of pants, six new shirts (four of which came at two for $15), and three pairs of very cute shoes (two of which were on sale - the total was less than $95). I asked my parents, again, for a 500 gig external harddrive. I might actually get it this time.
Of course with going home comes The Talk that I inevitably sit through: the What Are You Going to do After School? talk. It's not enough to be applying to JET. I have to know now, right now, if I want to go to graduate school, and if I do which school do I want to go to and what do I want to do, and if I don't, what sort of jobs am I looking to get.
The trouble is I don't know any of these things. I've never been one to plan for the future. Ask my parents - they'll be the first to tell you how much I detested the thought of growing up as a kid. Look and act older than my age? Why would I want to do that?
I don't know what I want to do with my life.
If I had my way I'd be a starving artist on the streets or living on ten dollars a week in a one bedroom flat with five other people. Unfortunately the sixties are behind us. As it is I don't have any particularly marketable skills, and I've spent enough time doing deskjob work to know that I refuse to even consider it. I'd sooner join the army. I want to do theatre. I want to write. I have no Could Actually Make a Living on This Plan C (the thought had been to be discovered as a brilliant singer by eighteen, but that clearly didn't happen).
This whole growing up thing sucks.