Since no one wants to employ me…

Every summer as a kid, I would spend my days reading–no, consuming–books. That probably explains why I’m so incredibly nonathletic and somewhat squishy, but that’s beside the point. I loved reading, and my mental arsenal of great literature was greater than that of my peers. It was a nice feeling to have.

Since I was sixteen, however, I spent my summers working nearly full-time, and I grew too busy and tired to even crack open a simple magazine. My passion for books came to a halt.

Now I’m home from college and unemployed. (My job sucked. I quit. Moving on.) I’ve applied to over a dozen places but no one has called me back, which I admit is a little disheartening, but at the same time, I’m starting to embrace it. Maybe I can spend this summer relaxing for once, something I haven’t done in quite a long time. My tax return came in the mail, so I have enough money to hold me over for the summer, and I plan to get a job in the fall when I’m back on campus.

I think I’m going to read for fun again. I’m not yet sure what I want on my summer reading list, however. Continue reading

Second Lunch

It’s been 4 years since I graduated from college. I remember being 22 and thinking that the whole world was in front of me, but at the same time I remember feeling really confused and cautious because it was like looking into a white-out snow storm. There were a lot of scary things being said at the time, things like, “recession” and “Snooki”. But, eventually, I realized all you can ever really do is go forward and kick as much yeti ass (see: work hard) as you can.

P.S. I’m not typically one to dish out advice, but if you’re a recent grad, here are some things I’ve learned along the way towards the twilight of my post grad years.

1. No one ever asks for your GPA

2. NO ONE EVER ASKS FOR YOUR GPA

3. Your Facebook News Feed is going to turn into a baby and wedding Tumblr.

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Enter Summer 2012

The dynamic of this Starbucks is incredibly different. Rather than hungrily hawking out tables close to outlets and attempting to squeeze all my books and my laptop onto dinky, rickety tables, I scored a large table in a matter of seconds, and within a few minutes of my arrival, the entire seating area was cleared. I could sit anywhere. Rather than rubbing elbows with students, suits, and babbling homeless men with just enough coins for a red-eye, I’ve been watching as middle-aged soccer moms and elderly men with tennis-bell-bedecked walkers quietly order their venti, non-whip, nonfat, quad-shot vanilla lattes. Even the walk here was vastly different: there were no screaming nuts standing at bus stops on my journey here, no sketchy looking figures eyeing me and trying to deduce how much money was in my pocket. In fact, there was almost no one on the sidewalk but little ol’ me.

I’m not at school anymore. I’m home. Continue reading