locked in the wooley building with Irish manuscripts

The title is a bit deceptive because I have now FINISHED MY THESIS!!!!! (Actually, I finished it on Friday, and got it bound and stuff at Kinkos - it looks all professional and everything - but I haven't been online since then...) You cannot imagine how amazing it feels to be finished !!!! (although I do have two short essays to write before the beginning of November, but that'll be nothing).

Unfortunately, I now have nothing to do but worry about the future. I got my first ever job rejection letter last week (for a job as the receptionist at Four Corners on the ABC). Come on, I'm not even qualified for THAT? I'm applying to all sorts of jobs at the ABC and for the NSW public service, none of which I want. I want to be an academic, sit in an office (not in an open plan office with heaps of other people), read lots of books, occasionally lecture to a band of eccentric minions, not be paid much, and have five children. It's a simple kind of happiness, really, but strangely unachievable.

I feel like I need five more years to sort out being an adult, because I'm the sort of person who feels happy being an age...five years later. As in, when I was a young teenager, I thought 'I want to be a child still', and then, when I was an older teenager (about 17 or 18) I thought 'I feel ready to be 13 now', and when I turned 21, I felt, 'now I'm ready to be 18'. When I'm 25, no doubt I'll feel ready to cope with being 21. It's a pity that we don't have longer to become accustomed to reaching a certain age. It's not so much that I dislike getting older, it's not that I feel like I'm getting old and ugly or something, it's just that I feel that only now, when I'm 21, nearly 22, do I have the emotional and mental tools to deal with being 18. Does that make any kind of sense?

I don't even feel particularly depressed. That won't sink in until I've left uni. It's just that, I spent the first three years of uni hating it and wishing that I was still in college (despite the fact that I spent college being miserable and wishing I was back at highschool, so I could do highschool 'properly') so I could do college 'properly', and only really felt happy at uni this year. And part of the happiness is tinged with the fact that I've known that this year will be the last. Which is really pathetic.

Don't pity me, though, because all my problems are entirely of my own making. I've never been able to enjoy any period of my life while it's happening, because I've always been too busy regretting the mistakes I made in the last period of my life, and imagining how if I didn't make those mistakes, my current period of life would have been so much better.

Sorry for the melancholia

locked in the wooley building with Irish manuscripts

The title is a bit deceptive because I have now FINISHED MY THESIS!!!!! (Actually, I finished it on Friday, and got it bound and stuff at Kinkos - it looks all professional and everything - but I haven't been online since then...) You cannot imagine how amazing it feels to be finished !!!! (although I do have two short essays to write before the beginning of November, but that'll be nothing).

Unfortunately, I now have nothing to do but worry about the future. I got my first ever job rejection letter last week (for a job as the receptionist at Four Corners on the ABC). Come on, I'm not even qualified for THAT? I'm applying to all sorts of jobs at the ABC and for the NSW public service, none of which I want. I want to be an academic, sit in an office (not in an open plan office with heaps of other people), read lots of books, occasionally lecture to a band of eccentric minions, not be paid much, and have five children. It's a simple kind of happiness, really, but strangely unachievable.

I feel like I need five more years to sort out being an adult, because I'm the sort of person who feels happy being an age...five years later. As in, when I was a young teenager, I thought 'I want to be a child still', and then, when I was an older teenager (about 17 or 18) I thought 'I feel ready to be 13 now', and when I turned 21, I felt, 'now I'm ready to be 18'. When I'm 25, no doubt I'll feel ready to cope with being 21. It's a pity that we don't have longer to become accustomed to reaching a certain age. It's not so much that I dislike getting older, it's not that I feel like I'm getting old and ugly or something, it's just that I feel that only now, when I'm 21, nearly 22, do I have the emotional and mental tools to deal with being 18. Does that make any kind of sense?

I don't even feel particularly depressed. That won't sink in until I've left uni. It's just that, I spent the first three years of uni hating it and wishing that I was still in college (despite the fact that I spent college being miserable and wishing I was back at highschool, so I could do highschool 'properly') so I could do college 'properly', and only really felt happy at uni this year. And part of the happiness is tinged with the fact that I've known that this year will be the last. Which is really pathetic.

Don't pity me, though, because all my problems are entirely of my own making. I've never been able to enjoy any period of my life while it's happening, because I've always been too busy regretting the mistakes I made in the last period of my life, and imagining how if I didn't make those mistakes, my current period of life would have been so much better.

Sorry for the melancholia