We’re almost at the end. What do you have left to do? How is that working for you?
I'm holding my breath. As stated in the previous blog post, I'm dying. My ex-girlfriend wants me to move in with her in three weeks, when my ok-paying job and connections are here. We've dating long-distance for three years, fuck that. For reference watch How I Met Your Mother's Season 1 episode on the subject, girls love them: All talk, no sex, guys hate them for the same reason. And I, being the smooth-talker jerk-off that I am, cannot stop hitting on girls to make up the lost time of having a non-real girlfriend, it really is quite a suicide mission/collision course, I know. BUT WHEN WE MOVE IN TOGETHER EVERYTHING WILL BE DIFFERENT. lolol #I'mFucked
School's fine. It's not hard, I am hardly trying and I'm not afraid of flunking. I have great professors who can see that I have worked hard, am knowledgeable and skilled enough to deserve a degree from the University of South Carolina. I'm just appalled at my whole extra year spent here and after my flunk out semester sophomore year also have nightmares and panic attacks about that too.
This is why I hate Journalism. In the future, Journalism is blogging; and all blogging is nothing but narcissistic, self-indulging rants, going and on and on and attempting to fill a whole only a therapist (or extremely talented prostitute, see: Julia Roberts|Pretty Woman) can fill.
These are the battles of the transition into the real world. I watched Office Space for the first time this month (I know, it's a sin I waited this long; I'm sorry.) and almost cried about how true that shit is. I hate my job, my ex hates her job, my dad and her dad hate their jobs, and now I'm eager and fighting to get hired by a soulless suicide machine.
CAPITALISM, YAY. I would also like to thank poor self esteem for the attention seeking perpetuism and materialism that has sucked the life out of so many humans before myself. BUT IF I HAVE ALL THE NICE THINGS I WILL FINALLY BE HAPPY, RIGHT?
Signing the hell off.
School's fine. It's not hard, I am hardly trying and I'm not afraid of flunking. I have great professors who can see that I have worked hard, am knowledgeable and skilled enough to deserve a degree from the University of South Carolina. I'm just appalled at my whole extra year spent here and after my flunk out semester sophomore year also have nightmares and panic attacks about that too.
This is why I hate Journalism. In the future, Journalism is blogging; and all blogging is nothing but narcissistic, self-indulging rants, going and on and on and attempting to fill a whole only a therapist (or extremely talented prostitute, see: Julia Roberts|Pretty Woman) can fill.
These are the battles of the transition into the real world. I watched Office Space for the first time this month (I know, it's a sin I waited this long; I'm sorry.) and almost cried about how true that shit is. I hate my job, my ex hates her job, my dad and her dad hate their jobs, and now I'm eager and fighting to get hired by a soulless suicide machine.
CAPITALISM, YAY. I would also like to thank poor self esteem for the attention seeking perpetuism and materialism that has sucked the life out of so many humans before myself. BUT IF I HAVE ALL THE NICE THINGS I WILL FINALLY BE HAPPY, RIGHT?
Signing the hell off.
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