Picking lint off my hand-me-down sweater in the career office. Hot pink socks, ballet flats, and beat up jeans. Girl, you do not have a resume, do you? Nope. I’m just taking this all in, sipping it slowly. I’m breaking down, regularly, because I only budget $5 at a time for gas. I like the breakdowns, though. They’re necessary so that I am forced to see, again and again, how the world keeps turning even when I’m standing still.
My talents are not in geographic information systems aka GIS aka the last class I have to complete for my degree. I wouldda couldda shouldda tried to take a poetry class, but, alas, I got rejected from all the creative writing classes frosh year and haven’t applied for any since. REGRETS REGRETS REGRETS.
So here I am. Sitting in my chilly apartment. It’s colder inside than outside for some reason. I’m considering getting my fingerless gloves because my hands keep cramping up. I’m sitting here refreshing my email to see if my GIS professor has responded to my desperate “Please don’t fail me” email (worded only slightly differently). I should’ve thought a little harder about taking a class in which the entire grade is based on a final project that I’d have to complete in the last week of my senior year. Whoops. In a typical PJ fashion, though, I am procrastinating in the healthiest way I know how: moving my body & writing.
I haven’t been really active since turning in my thesis a couple weeks ago. I hit a bump after that deadline and let myself slide into the dark corners of my room, mind. I left my yoga studio because #expensive and also I need to think more about the ways in which paying to practice at a yoga studio contributes to problems of cultural appropriation. When my room’s clean, I’m able to do stuff at home, but that’s been rare the last few weeks. But today I tidied up and stretched out and damn it felt good. Hoping I can stick to a routine for the next two weeks before graduation, even though they’re bound to be rollercoasteresque.
And then writing. Yeah. Haven’t opened my journal in like a week, but when I finally did and started scribbling it was just as “ahhh” inducing as any heart opener. I flipped back through some of the love notes I wrote myself during my thesis and realized that whatever happens with this final GIS BS, it’s going to be AOK.
One quick story, because I should actually go twerk on this assignment: I went to a job recruiter the other day at Yale who looked at my resume and made some suggestions. She made a lot of assumptions about the kinds of jobs I’d be interested in as a Yale graduate, and she couldnt’ve been more wrong. She suggested I move two of the most important jobs I’ve held down to “bullet points,” and it took me all of my patience and deep breathing skills to not scream: BITCH DON’T YOU DARE REDUCE MY LIFE’S WORK TO BULLET POINTS. It was in this moment that I realized that I cannot get a job where I don’t get dirty or to yell. I realized that when I told her I wanted a part-time job so I could spend the rest of the time writing, what I really felt like saying was: I want to be writing full time but I don’t know how I’m going to pay my rent. She handed me my resume back with some scribbles, gave me her card, and told me to keep in touch. I don’t think I’m gonna, because really, I don’t want to…and I’m not sure it has to be more complicated than that.
I don’t know what the fuck is gonna happen with this project or after I graduate but I have a feeling it’s going to be good.
Stay cool, tuned.
[ PJ ]
Kooks because i’ve been listening to them all day and this happened to be the song that came on when I finished writing.