The time has come. My three-month vacation in London has come to a sad end and now I am sitting in a reality hell otherwise known as Ellicott City, Maryland.* It’s not so much that I loathe my hometown but more that I am strongly against the unruly universe that it represents. That is the place I always swore I would die before I entered, the dreaded “real world”.
What does that even mean anyway, the “real world”? All through life most people only put up with the not so subtle miseries of their educational journies so that they can succeed in the academic afterlife. You know, the life where one gets paid six figures to work four hours a day at a sweet dream job after which they go to home to their high-rise apartment in Chicago where their smoking hot significant other is already sitting half-naked at a topped with freshly prepared filet mignon, mashed potatoes and green beans (all of which have zero calories and in fact, actually make you lose more weight). While I admittedly did not picture my post-graduate life to be exactly as the one I just described, I did at least hope I would have a beauteous, super chef man friend. Much to my disappointment that is not at all the case and now I find myself in a situation that is not only unlike the one I just described but, in fact, the complete opposite.
Is this possible? How could one person so easily overshoot the perceived reality and land in the trenches of the real world? If you can bear it, I will list the differences between what is real and what is not:
The first and most obvious difference is that I do not have a job nor do I feel like I am anywhere close to getting one. Here’s where you feel bad for me and then offer me the position of my dreams. As a result, my bank account is not overflowing with six figures worth of cash but instead is as empty and naked as my deep, dark soul. I do not live in a high-rise Chicago apartment but dwell in a four-bedroom suburban home that sits at a temperature slightly above freezing. I obviously do not have a significant other and currently do not wish to discuss that any further since my grandmother will soon be arriving for Christmas and I do not want have to repeat the sad story of my loneliness to another uncompromising jury. Since I do not have a boyfriend, no tan man with a perfect jawline and chiseled abs is preparing a five-course meal for me. Instead, I heat up chicken pot pie for dinner while wearing saggy Spandex pants, mismatched socks and a shirt that’s been on my body for approximately three straight days. Clearly, not the ideal situation.
The moral of the story: I am two and a half days into unemployment and it sucks. I do not recommend it.
The proverbial silver lining: All of this free time allows me the opportunity to blog and write as a I please and if I learned anything from lacrosse it is that practice makes perfect. Also, I am super excited to continue to play up the “unemployed” (and severely underrated and comfortable) look by continuing to wear the saggiest, most unattractive leggings I can get my disproportionally large hands on.
*AUTHORS NOTE: I actually love Maryland and am grateful that my generous mother loves me enough to let me stay in our home, no matter how cold it is. Really, she’s the bomb.