And so I leave you, with my thoughts on “The Vagina Monologues,” Valentine’s Day, running off to New York and poetry’s healing power on the world. That’s right: I’m leaving you, my faithful readers. Even knowing I’m someone who, in reality, is not very educated about fine arts, you have listened to my “Fine Arts rant,” and it’s been fun, folks. I’ve had fun, and I hope you’ve had fun too. But now it is time to settle on something not so fun. Something I’m sure you’ll get enough of, going home to parents, big turkeys and so forth. “Soooo – you’re graduating in a month. (pause) Any idea what you’re doing with your life?”
There are several options at your disposal: One, you can stare down at your plate, attempt to stuff even more turkey in your mouth to delay the inevitable answer; two, attack the question head on. If you’re anything like me (walking the line between neurotic and angry), the answer will sound something like this: “Well I have an ideaaa-” But the reality is, of course, that we don’t know. I’m wondering very hard right now where an English and political science degree can possibly take me. I’m looking on the inside to see if I have any semi-marketable skill – if after four years at this university there is anything from my two humanities majors that I can possibly turn into green – and I can’t say I’ve quite found an answer.
Even worse, I went to a job fair called the “Spirit of Diversity” last weekend, where I got knocked down and told I would never have a job. All the while an editor thought it would be hilarious (cute, even), to fuck with me by telling various riddles and loudly berating me when I got them wrong, calling me “stupid” and making fun of the University of Michigan and the like. I realized that without internships, my stint at the Daily has been pretty much worthless. So I think I’m rightly scared. Especially after my friend Aymar told me that his friend, who has a masters degree in journalism from Columbia, can’t find a job.
So what are we to do? Noble social-science majors – we face an unkind world with a worthless degree. Well, there’s always the option of welfare. I’m not proud of this fact, but from a practical standpoint, it’s something I’m dealing with. On the plus side, I’m not a big fan of the government and honestly the biggest way I feel like I can get back at it, in a non-job situation (i.e. not through the press) is by going on welfare. Just think about it, it’s a huge strain on the government. I can be a leech and hit the government from inside. Being on welfare is my surest means to sticking up to the man.
Now granted, there are people who really need to be on welfare. For whatever, reason I’m not saying that welfare is a system that’s necessarily meant to feed soon-to-be college graduates like myself. However, now looking at the options that I have in this world, and after hearing from a Detroit Free Press recruiter that my only future lies working in a bookstore. I’ve decided that welfare may be a viable option. In Sweden and in many other European countries, it’s more effective to live on the welfare system than to get a low-paying menial job i.e. working in a bookstore. Therefore, I feel that it is in my best interest to squeeze the government a little bit.
Perhaps you fancy me mad. Of course you do, the ones who are critical of this philosophy are probably engineers or pre-med. My dears, you have actual job-training skills. You have marketable talents. We’re in two completely different boats that will probably never meet, unless you want to take over the government’s responsibility, marry me and set me for life.
So my dearest philosophy major – yeah you, the one graduating with an undergrad degree and no interest in grad school. When your parents ask over a dinner they’ve prepared for you what your big plans are for the future, give them a big smile, confident that you are making a difference in the only way you can – and tell them you are starting the welfare revolution.
-Clearly, this is a joke. Edwards is just freaking out about graduating. Sympathize with her at email@example.com.