Maybe this is all just a mix of reading Death of a Salesman and sending out a million resumes and poems, but I'm feeling like, hey, what the hell is the point? What is the American Dream? How can we find it if we don't even believe it exists?
I guess I shouldn't say "we." I mean, I speak for myself. But really, I spend all this time printing things out, perfectly, sending things out, and then...
waiting.
I spend a good amount of time waiting. Is that the American Dream? Hoping for something that may never come? Or am I supposed to just suck it up and settle?
We spend our time as children telling other people what we want to be when we grow up. When I was a kid, the answer was usually a lawyer. I don't know why; I think my grandfather told me at some point that I would be good at it, so that was my go-to answer. But once I started getting older and I was in college and then out of college and then in graduate school, the go-to answer just didn't cut it anymore. If I would have said, "I want to be a lawyer" to any one of the people who bothered to ask me, "What are your plans after school?" (in essence, what do you want to be when you grow up?), they would have laughed at me and of course, asked the logical question: "Then why did you go to school for creative writing?"
Now, don't get me wrong. I don't really want to be a lawyer. Sure, there's some part of me that thinks, hey, maybe I would be good at it after all, but I'm honest enough with myself to know that that part of me is just the part that trusts Grandpa's judgement. But having a go-to answer would be so much easier than, "Oh, you know, I'm teaching a few classes here and there and just waiting to hear back about some faculty positions." I HATE that answer. It means, "Yes, I've been out of school since January and no, I haven't found a faculty position yet, and to be honest, I don't think I"m going to this year because, let's face it, I'm fresh out of grad. school, aren't I?" Sucks to have to say the truth out loud.
So, I send out poems to magazines and Ron claps for me when I get a rejection letter because he says it's just another person who's read my poetry and that's just the kind of boyfriend he is - the one who tries to keep his woman sane.
I send out resumes and everyone tells me just to wait and see what happens but then I curse myself for maybe being too passive. Then, I get impatient and I begin looking at other positions in other fields of writing but deep down, I know I just really love to teach college.
So, is this the American Dream? Should I pinch myself and find an open job market?
Wow, I'm not so far in at all (15 pages) and I love this book. Clapton writes with a wit I did not expect and an honesty that is both refreshing and intriguing. I highly recommend it - and if I recommend it this early on, imagine how I'll be feeling at the end!
What a fascinating man. Not just a guitar god any longer...
now, out of sorts
Current mood: blah
Category: Life
so, i graduated and first i felt out of place. now, i feel weird and out of sorts, like i just can't get everything to come together in one neat little ball in my hands. am i taking on too much in lieu of schoolwork? that can't be. i just don't think that can be at all.
i've been so diligent, sending stuff out. and the other day, The Poetry Center picked one of my poems to be in an anthology of NJ poets. which is totally cool. but i'm still out of sorts, odd, not sure if i should be writing something or mailing something or reading something or watching something or makign something out of the many somethings in my head, swirling around like fantasia. (and you all know what fantasia i'm talking about, i'm sure.)
life after school is sort of depressing. at first, i was happy. no more research papers! but now, i want a research paper. what a nerd i am.
in other news, i'm going to be writing a book about hauntings and ghost stories in any towns from East Brunswick/Old Bridge all the way down to Trenton and Princeton. I even have a small contract for said book, so if you have any good stories or rumors you want me to check out, let me know.
that's all. just out of sorts.
Currently
listening
:
Dark Side Of The Moon
By
Pink Floyd
Release date: 25 October, 1990
i find it strange that i feel so out of place only days after finishing grad. school. it's like i'm even subconsciously rebelling by not using capitalization, but i can't bring myself to use bad grammar. it's just going too far.
and i can't turn my head off so i just end up sending resumes and poems out to universities and presses and literary magazines by the truckload because it gives me something to do. now i don't know what to do with free time; when i have it, i always feel as if i wasted it by not watching a movie i've wanted to watch for months or reading something i've been putting off or writing something i haven't had time for because i really just want to sit there with a drink (preferably alcoholic) and zone out in front of the television or the computer but i can't turn my head off. it's a crazy circle of uncertainty and awkwardness. i am the me i do not know without academia. i am the me i need to get to know because i could be pretty cool.
so instead of writing a poem right now, i'm kind of standing up for my deserved stance as a lazy ass by fucking around on myspace and drinking a vodka/tonic while i watch a cheesy countdown on vh1. it's working for me.
nervous
crappy
curious
blah
chill