Hello world!
Louise here. No, not the sheltered Catholic school girl Molly described me as in '99, but the much evolved (and corrupted) college graduate. On a steamy day this past May, I wrapped up a solid 5 years of my undergraduate career with a vodka on my breath, a "dummy" diploma in my hand (still have not gotten the real deal in the mail yet....), and the proverbial world at my fingertips. Or so I thought. Here I sit, working on a blog, resumés and cover letters drifting throughout cyberspace, and looming uncertainties of what my next step should be. And what is my biggest concern? That I haven't been to a music festival yet this summer.
What is it about those sleep-depriving, virus-inducing, tents-for-housing weekends that has stolen my heart (and bank account)? I truly believe it is something you need to experience to understand. Yes, all the afore mentioned things are quite definitive of the festivus experience, but without such things, a certain charm would be lost. When you arrive to see the "millennie-hippies" proudly blaring bootlegs of Dead shows from Europe '72, clad in more dirt than clothing, skipping jovially from campsite to campsite, it is difficult to withhold personal excitement. This carefree mindset steadfastly remains until the music stops and all caravan off to their respective homes (or to another festival). After three or four days of this liberation, it becomes something you crave. And crave, I have.
Yet, here I stand, funemployment becoming a little less fun at the passing of each day, as the job search leads me to dead end after dead end. My "long weekend" since Graduation has lost the lustrous charm it held in June. Time to find a job, so back to the grind for this one.
Cross your fingers for me,
Louise
Louise here. No, not the sheltered Catholic school girl Molly described me as in '99, but the much evolved (and corrupted) college graduate. On a steamy day this past May, I wrapped up a solid 5 years of my undergraduate career with a vodka on my breath, a "dummy" diploma in my hand (still have not gotten the real deal in the mail yet....), and the proverbial world at my fingertips. Or so I thought. Here I sit, working on a blog, resumés and cover letters drifting throughout cyberspace, and looming uncertainties of what my next step should be. And what is my biggest concern? That I haven't been to a music festival yet this summer.
What is it about those sleep-depriving, virus-inducing, tents-for-housing weekends that has stolen my heart (and bank account)? I truly believe it is something you need to experience to understand. Yes, all the afore mentioned things are quite definitive of the festivus experience, but without such things, a certain charm would be lost. When you arrive to see the "millennie-hippies" proudly blaring bootlegs of Dead shows from Europe '72, clad in more dirt than clothing, skipping jovially from campsite to campsite, it is difficult to withhold personal excitement. This carefree mindset steadfastly remains until the music stops and all caravan off to their respective homes (or to another festival). After three or four days of this liberation, it becomes something you crave. And crave, I have.
Yet, here I stand, funemployment becoming a little less fun at the passing of each day, as the job search leads me to dead end after dead end. My "long weekend" since Graduation has lost the lustrous charm it held in June. Time to find a job, so back to the grind for this one.
Cross your fingers for me,
Louise
