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Don't ask me.
Sep. 19th, 2007 12:21 amDon’t ask me what I’m doing with my life now that I’m out of college. If I knew what I wanted to do with my life, I probably wouldn’t have gone to college in the first place. I would have just gone out and done whatever it was that I was supposed to do. As of right now, I’m still finding my way.
Don’t ask me if writing is a “real job,” and suggest that teaching might be more in my sights. If I’d wanted to teach, I’d be an education major. When I say I'm looking at jobs in writing, don't tell me I won't get anywhere. Don't scoff when I tell you I'm writing a screenplay. It's something that I enjoy, and it's potentially profitable. Let me know the next time you write a 107-page paper.
Don’t ask me when I’m going to get a real job. My current job is in fact real. I get money and everything. Honest.
Don’t tell me that my current job is beneath me, especially not in front of my mother whose job is similar. My mother and I work hard, and enjoy the fact that we get to work outside. Now remove your foot from your mouth and leave us in peace.
Don’t ask me anything more strenuous than “How’s the weather,” or “Did you see last night’s episode of X.” If you do, I might snap. And that might be bad. Because I’ll either cry (which is never ever pretty) or go postal (also not pretty), and you really really don’t want either to happen.
Thank you and goodnight.
Don’t ask me if writing is a “real job,” and suggest that teaching might be more in my sights. If I’d wanted to teach, I’d be an education major. When I say I'm looking at jobs in writing, don't tell me I won't get anywhere. Don't scoff when I tell you I'm writing a screenplay. It's something that I enjoy, and it's potentially profitable. Let me know the next time you write a 107-page paper.
Don’t ask me when I’m going to get a real job. My current job is in fact real. I get money and everything. Honest.
Don’t tell me that my current job is beneath me, especially not in front of my mother whose job is similar. My mother and I work hard, and enjoy the fact that we get to work outside. Now remove your foot from your mouth and leave us in peace.
Don’t ask me anything more strenuous than “How’s the weather,” or “Did you see last night’s episode of X.” If you do, I might snap. And that might be bad. Because I’ll either cry (which is never ever pretty) or go postal (also not pretty), and you really really don’t want either to happen.
Thank you and goodnight.
