Sunset at 4pm is Absolutely Ludicrous

I remember the warnings that seemed to come at me from every angle just before leaving for college, and how everyone seemed to be so intent on preparing me for the temptations and responsibilities that came with the sudden freedom of higher education. But I never had much trouble getting out of bed for classes - the relatively few times I did skip, I spent more time weighing the pros and cons of such a decision than I would have spent sitting through a lecture. Even though I procrastinated nearly every assignment, I was careful to rearrange other aspects of my life to compensate for the night-before-the-deadline rush to research and write a 10-page paper. I rarely studied for a test prior to the 24 hours preceding it, but I had no qualms about missing out on sleep for the sake of cramming. I had as much of a 'good time' as anyone else, but I never failed a class and I am proud of what I accomplished in college.

Which leads me to my current problem. For all the talk of freshman running wild, high on free will and the allure of mistakes to be made, there are still guardrails. Most kids never gain enough momentum to crash through them, they sustain a mere scrape or two before someone steps in to put them back on track. There are still grades, and people responsible for handing them out. Had I chosen differently - to skip more classes, not study at all, drink more and think less - someone would have noticed. And that is a great motivator, and it served me very well, and now I have the degree and the work ethic to prove it.

The thing is, though, if I continue to sit on this couch for the rest of the night, no one will know. If I choose to turn the TV back on, and watch Antique Roadshow all night rather than research possible employers and distribute resumees, not one single person, (aside from myself and the neighbor who keeps peering through the window), will know. No one is grading my performance, literally for the first time in my life. And there are no guardrails, so much as a sudden stop to greet me if I send myself off the road.

And when I go home for Thanksgiving, and still have no job, it will be solely my decision to reveal just how much of my unemployed status is the result of a competitive job market, and how much is due to my lack of motivation.

It's strange to think that maybe my success at school has led to my struggle in the real world, because we're taught that the world does not work that way. We are taught, from age 5 or 6, or even younger, these days, till about 21 or 22 years old, that working hard at school will pay off. That good grades and high recommendations from teachers and professors are the key to success not only in your chosen career, but in all aspects of life.

And yet, here I sit - with no assignments to complete, and no report cards to maintain appearances for, and a nearly total contentment sitting on the sofa, writing blog entries when I should be typing up cover letters.

That's not to say I don't want to start working - I really can't wait to. But I can't help see irony in the fact that my chosen career will involve taking daily assignments from an editor, and writing condensed research papers for a living. Sounds a lot like college to me.

And I think to myself - but, that's what I'm good at. I'm good at following leads, digging up information, working long and irregular hours, asking questions and finding answers, then delivering information. Of course it's what I'm good at, I've been successfully leading a career in that field for the last, oh, give or take 18 years.

I succeeded in school because I knew how to do what people were asking of me. And that made me 'smart'. But I'm not in school anymore, and I have nobody asking anything of me. I have become an expert supplier of answers, in a world that asks no questions of me.

So, of course, because I tend to get bored when left to my own devices and because the rent must be paid regardless of my being the product of a flawed educational system, I will research job opportunities and prepare cover letters and writing samples, and even place follow-up telephone calls to managing editors who I know will never hire me. But I'm for damn sure going to do it from the comfort of my couch, while Antique Roadshow plays in the background.