It's September and I need a roommate. I couldn't live in the dorms anymore. I was fed up of being paired with idiots. I was done sharing my kitchen and my bathroom with an entire floor. When I signed the lease for my apartment, I did it with the guy...
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It's June and I finally got a job offer. It's at a small web journal. One of their writers got a better job offer, so they had an opening for me. Their home office is about a two hour drive from where I live, but they don't even need me to get out of my fuzzy slippers to write for them. I can do it on my couch.
Some people might find that nice and practical, but I honestly think it's just pathetic. I think about my mother and her deadlines and her coworkers and how much she loved her job, and this job of mine feels nothing like hers.
I know I don't need to be like my mother. I do want different things from her. But I would like to be able to make the same kind of impact that she did. She ended the careers of senators. She was at a White House correspondent dinner.
She's a big deal while I'm just on the fast track to be writing Buzzfeed lists with memes.
Everyone is congratulating me about getting a job, but I can't help feeling like it's just because they need to do it, not because they're actually glad for me. It's not special, it's barely even worth mentioning.
I have Wall Street Journal dreams and Post dreams and New York Times dreams. I don't have small insignificant web newspaper dreams.
I want to change people's vision of the world, but I'll never be able to do that on such a small scale medium. I'll never be anything.
I don't tell people that though. I keep it all to myself and I smile and I say I'm happy. I've always been strong. I've always convince people around me that everything was good, and that I could never be down.
But the truth is, getting this job is not good news to me. It feels more like a bad omen.
