Tomorrow is the day that rolls around once a year where I get a reminder about the fact that I’m a uni dropout. It’s Graduation time at the University so hoardes of proud parents will be descending on campus to see their little darlings in their Hogwarts robes strut their stuff in front of the Chancellor and collect a certificate as testimony of three years hard work drinking in Jesters. I’ve always felt sore about being a drop out because all of my uni friends are super clever, career driven wunderkinds who are striking out into the world of work and progressing wildly in their chosen fields whereas I’ve been fannying around in a job I don’t really enjoy dreaming of a better 9-5.
This year I don’t feel so sore about it which is clearly because I’m much happier in where I am now and where I’m going in life. Hopefully this means I’ll be able to make it through the day without snarling at a happy graduate or having to hold myself back from tripping one of them up as they make their way to the stage. It’s also been interesting to learn that several of the people I most look up to, in terms of career and life in general, don’t have degrees – it almost makes it okay for me to be trying to muddle my way into a writing career without having that gilt edged bit of paper. Unfortunately though there are hundreds upon hundreds of graduates walking out at the end of each academic year far more qualified than I am to take on the jobs and so it looks like it may be a tough nut to crack.
I’m hanging out hard for a situation at work to resolve itself in a positive way (for me) which will mean I’ll be able to devote far more time to the pursuit of my goals by doing oodles of unpaid work experience and internships leading to a new career…. and happyness 😉
(yes. That spelling mistake is deliberate, didn’t you SEE the film?)