Hi, Hey, Hello!
You know I came to a realisation this week and it is this.
It has been a year since I finished my degree. It has been (just over) 365 days since I put my pen down with a sense of finality as I was told that my exam was over and I had to stop writing. It’s been 12 months since I woke up at 7:30 feeling nauseous and scared and oozing stress from every pore and then sitting in a room with other people in an equal state of nerves making it worse for me (this is doubly worse because I was on my own listening to people around me talk and there is nothing worse than listening to what other people have done in preparation for the same exam that I am about to sit and then feeling that you haven’t done enough 10 minutes before you are about to be called in to start it.) It’s been 8760 hours since I left a cold, strangely lit lecture theatre (in which I spent most of that time leaning against the wall because it was solid and kept me strangely grounded as it continually hit me that it was the last exam I would sit as an undergraduate) with a sense of euphoria and calm because that was it.
My degree was over and there was no longer anything I could do to change my final degree classification (which was a scary thought in its own right and led to a whole different sense of stress).
It also means that it has been 525, 600 minutes (I am done with that now) since I left the bubble of education and I am still unemployed. Which is nothing if not slightly demoralising. A large part of this year has been spent applying for jobs and then nothing. Or rejection, which is arguably worse, because nothing is nothing. Rejection is being told that you aren’t good enough and that, for me at least, is harder to come back from. Although, at this point, rejection has kind of become part of my life so I am getting better at dealing with it. Again.
Plus side, in amongst all the rejection I have gained a bit more focus and direction for myself meaning that I feel like I have finally made the move to pull the parachute cord rather than just free falling through the air, which I have been doing since I sat down in September 2013 and realised that everything was, in theory, riding on my final year. So, yay to moving forward and all that jazz.
In other news, you know how I said that I was probably gonna take a step back from my Snapshot series because I thought I drained the well dry after I forced the final thousand words onto the Word document? Yeah that didn’t happen. Or it did happen for the first 10 days and then it was no longer happening anymore. In fact in the past 14 days alone I have filled this many pages with varying standards of penmanship.
While the whole writing thing has taken off out of nowhere I have hit a bit of a reading slump that I am working to get through because I am enjoying The Book Thief (29%) but can’t quite seem to get into the swing of reading it. Or anything to be honest. I might have a little look around at some other books to see if I can blitz through one of them to try and get through this and carry on trying to plow on through this reading challenge of mine.
Well, that’s it. Little update on things on my end. Thanks Google for telling me how many hours there are in a year and thanks to Rent for telling me how many minutes there are (and yes I have had Seasons of Love in my head the entire time that I have written this post up).
Parentheses count: 7. See you on Wednesday!
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