14 Nov
Hullo folkses. This is my new, spangly, all-singing, all-dancing ‘I’m a working girl now’ blog. I am no longer counting down to Finals but attempting to have a life after them. So far, I am having mixed results.
I have hurtled back to the world of blog-dom because I find myself, as I did all those months ago in February/March, lonely and with too much vitriol to explain myself in 140 characters. And also lacking in things to do at work. But don’t spread that last bit around.
Things that have happened between the demise of the last blog and the starting of a new blog chapter:
I got my results – just missed that first. Curse that fortune cookie and its overconfident predictions! As I have been told many a time, though, it’s absolutely pointless to dwell on it. A degree from Oxford is still a degree from Oxford. And this is all very true. I could complain for months about it, how unfair it is, how it’s totally shafted my life plans, how cruel life is that I can’t have one bit of paper that says I’m not as mediocre as my brain tells me I am, etc etc. I could do all those things (I just did, a bit). But I have to at least pretend to be over it in order to demonstrate to people that I am a bigger person for being able to take the hit and roll with it, rather than hide in a corner and cry.
Does that make sense?
I got a job. There, I hear you cry, so you haven’t got anything to complain about. Well, on the one hand, that is very true. To walk out of university with your life plans falling apart around your ears and land on your feet like that is great. Living at home takes a lot of the expense and grief out of living in a crappy rented place anywhere else, and is much higher on the creature comforts factor. I benefit from having food bought for me, tea made for me, washing done for me. I like having the cats around – well, most of the time. Some of the time they are groooosssss. Anyway, the point is that I shouldn’t have anything to complain about, but because I am me, I can always find something.
Leila told me to man up and get over myself last night, in typical Leila fashion. She’s absolutely right, of course. The best thing to do is get my nose to the grindstone, work like a demon, earn as much money as possible and then find something I’ll be really happy doing. Trouble is, I don’t know what that is any more. Baking? Maybe. Academia? That’s what I want now – what I’ve wanted for at least two years. Is that because it’s all I know, because it’s safe, because it’s not the real world? I don’t really know any more. Various people have told me I’d make a good academic, but then lots of people told me I’d make a good teacher (or that I’d ace my exams) and that didn’t get me anywhere. There’s a fine line between being defeatist and being a realist and I worry that sometimes I blur the boundaries and don’t realise which side I’m on. It’s realistic to say there are very few jobs in academia. It’s defeatist to say I’ll never get a job. But am I realist or a defeatist if I choose not to follow the academic path because of job scarcity? Does it even matter if I’m doing what I love? You can’t eat books. Loving your job can unfortunately help you only so far. I would be an academic for free if I didn’t have to worry about money, without a second thought.
Other things that have happened. Dan and Kate’s wedding. It was well cute. Odd to be in Exeter – it was a surreal event in an extremely familiar location. Bit mindboggling, which may explain why I drank what would probably be considered a leetle too much. I had a great time dancing with the tiny kids though. Tom says I am broody. I don’t know that I consider the basis on which he has formed his opinion valid. Besides, while I am desperate to be assured of a future in which children are an option, I certainly don’t want an actual baby just yet. There’s a significant difference. Anyway, D+K are back from honeymoon now and Kate has changed her surname on Facebook, thus formalising their union in a way marriage banns, a civil register etc never could.
Also. The. Olympics.
I am so amazed and gratified and proud of the feel-good factor they have generated and the way they have made Britain look and feel – to itself and to the rest of the world. There have been so many absolutely top moments. I’m so pleased to have been involved – even just as a spectator – and to have been proven right in supporting the Games all along. I hope we can use our memories of the last two weeks as a positive, motivating force rather than as a pinnacle from which to descend into an all-consuming gloom. I want to be part of the movement of change and show a commitment to the idea of legacy, so I’ve tried getting in touch with a boxing club. There aren’t that many sports available to a short, verging on chubby individual who is scared of falling off things or going high in the air. But being punched in the face now and again? Sounds like the perfect antidote to assuaging my Jewish guilt.
I’ll be back with another post very shortly. I meant to publish it all together but I got a bit carried away, and the next post is kind of a standalone subject…

say something too

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: