I just finished what might actually be the worst paper of my undergraduate career, in which I argue that Marx was not actually a historicist. As a result of this paper, I only slept for three hours last night. However, this also happens to be the last paper of my undergraduate career, which means that I am done with college. I find myself in the same situation I was in at the end of high school, which seemed to end, so to speak, not with a bang but with a whimper. (And yes, I actually looked through my high school blog archives to make sure I wrote that, and I did.)
Up next is a week and a half of college-sponsored revelry, then graduation, then my parents' couch for a week, then I guess I am moving to Washington. (How did that happen, you ask? I thought you hated Washington, Miss Eww Rats and Roaches and Pompous Politicians Self-Important? Yes, I did. But it seems that no matter how well-laid the plans I make for myself are, I end up following other people's plans for me instead.) Up next in blogging is probably going to be a lot of schmaltz and nostalgia and wistfulness as I sentimentalize everything about college. The weak of heart are advised to seek bitterness and snark elsewhere.
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11 comments:
You got a job? Great!
Alas, no. I am going to accompany my equally unemployed boyfriend.
Marx not a historicist? Don't Marx and Hegel kinda define the term?
TEXAS!
Anonymous: Like I said, worst paper of my college career,
Alex: NO!
This post was lovely. Say another sentence, though, about finding yourself in the same situation you were in at the end of high school.
Rita, why is your equally unemployed boyfriend going to Washington? Because you are? If so, couldn't you both go somewhere nicer, like Youngstown?
No, b/c he wants to find employment there, and I just want to find employment and have someone else make decisions for me right now, while I study Greek and figure things out.
Rita, that might work for now. I must warn you that in my experience (and that of all the men I've asked), as we age we become less assertive -- fortunately for us, women generally become more assertive as they get older. So at some point you will have to start making decisions. But in our twenties, we love being in charge.
I'm afraid Washington has the largest rats I've ever seen, and I've been to some serious rat-havens. Not the most rats-- ain't nothing can compare to the streets of Hong Kong at the hour when all the food shops close and throw their garbage onto the sidewalk-- but the biggest, bar none. Carry along an unabridged OED to wack 'em with; your Chicago Style Guide won't be big enough.
Good luck, and congratulations...
I was thinking that my claw-bearing cat would protect me. But maybe he will run away too. In any case, thank you.
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