Office Life Begins

OK, so you were bound to find out eventually. I have a job. Be it ever so humble, its a job--a paid job--in writing and social media. I Can't really complain, because at least I no longer look like this:

But for some reason, as a a post-grad recession-rejection, I (in addition to many others stuck in my boat) tend to romanticize the idea of being hired for a real job. I.e., to become a 9-5 office type where people walk around in collared shirts, take 1 hour lunch breaks, drink excessive amounts of coffee, and feign some  importance. 

This type existence does have its perks--namely bragging rights and happy hour--but there are a few things I'm learning the hard way. They are as follows:

1. Sitting at a desk is hard work. As an athlete I always thought I had a pretty good idea of what should be considered strenuous, but this is a whole new ballgame. By the end of the day my tailbone hurts and I'm ready for comfort food, beer, and bed, preferably before 10:30pm. I've lately been known to have designated quiet time in my post-work, pre-bed hours. Talking, it seems, is just too much for me after a day of little verbal communication and an abundance of words typed on a screen. And going out after work--well, that's asking a lot. If I'm going to put that much effort into being social, you better be REALLY important. 

2. Coffee is the new cocaine. I'm not a fan of drugs myself, but I'd say cocaine is probably the pick-me-up drug of choice on college campuses. I assume that since doing drugs in the workplace doesn't fly quite as easily as it did at our alma maters, a very wise corporate employee years ago invented the workplace coffee machine to replace the void left by this discrepancy. Thus, coffee becomes the workplace drug. Literally. Not only is it necessary to start your day with a Venti from Starbucks, it is absolutely essential to take a mid-morning coffee break, and perhaps hit up your favorite barista during lunch for round two (or would it be round three?). I for one have found the whole thing quite addictive, and am sorry to admit that my day is fully 100% better when started with a Skinny Carmel Latte--iced, with soy milk--from Starbucks. And if I'm going to be social after work, we better make round two a double shot. Which brings me to point three...

3. Time to say goodbye to my booming social life.  With an eight hour work day fueled by drinking coffee in an office chair, there is little time for much else. For me, this causes free time to become a battle between physical vs. social self-preservation. Physical preservation means working out at 5AM (hello extra Starbucks run) or 6PM (goodbye remnants of social life). Because lets be real--if I'm up early enough to exercise before work, I'm way too tired to socialize after work (unless we're talking happy hour...what a glorious invention). And if I'm at the gym after work, well, there's just no way I'm going to be refreshed, fed, and presentable until at least 8:30. As discussed earlier, this is frighteningly close to bed time. And really, what woman wants to shower and wash her hair twice every day? I may be high maintenance, but that's too much even for me. The solution to all of this? Time to become BFF with my parents, who are conducive to not only good meals, but interesting conversation and early bedtime. Winning.

Still Here.

I should humbly thank my 3 blog followers that have recently encouraged me to update this--not that I haven't wanted to. But its a busy life being a dead-end college grad, you know. I do, however, have some exciting news to report. Wait for it...

Just kidding, I can't tell you yet. It would blow my cover or jinx my luck, and I'm not about to do either of those just yet.

Exciting news aside, the truth still remains: this is not a good time to be a college grad--with a job, without a job, or anywhere in between. And despite some potential changes, I'm very much still having a quarter-life crisis. Side note: I was somehow under the foolish assumption that I created this term (quarter-life crisis). This is frighteningly false. People are actually writing about this shit all over the place. But I digress.

It has officially been over one year since I graduated from college with my prestigious sociology degree. Many of my post graduate conversations sounded something like, "Sociology? What are you going to do with a sociology degree?" With me replying in my head, Hell if I know, and then continuing on with some five minute monologue about all my potential plans. Those were some good times.

The tune of my potential self-esteem destroyers has changed a bit as I've become more of an adult and less of a recent college grad. Now everyone just wants to know if I'm going to grad school, and when I'm going to move out, get married and have babies. Sababa.

A Writer's Woes

Ok, so here's the thing: I just want a job. In writing, journalism, or social media. It doesn't seem like that much to ask, really. I'm not quite sure why I wasted my time going to and graduating from college if all I'm left with are bankrupt magazines and websites that entice unpaid interns to do their dirty work in exchange for school credit. Should have failed out of my senior year and stuck around Berkeley a little longer, perhaps in exchange for the dignity of being able to apply for internships.


I strongly believe that I've patiently paid my dues for far too long at this point, and I'm starting to think that I may spend the majority of my adult years living in a cardboard box with several loving felines and not much else to my name.

That is all.

My Resume Will Thank Me For This

The other day I was minding my own business at work when two of the corporate managers called me outside. I was convinced that I would be fired. Instead, I was promoted to assistant manager.

Promoted? I started working here three months ago. My first thought was, "really?" and my second thought was, "my resume will thank me for this."

Now when people ask me what I'm doing with that prestigious degree of mine, at least I have some credibility. And, when I eventually apply for my next job, the subtext of my resume will now read something like "fell into a random job and received instant promotion because of insanely good work ethic and intelligence" as opposed to "another college grad that could have made something of herself but is instead paying the price for graduating in a bad economy with a useless major."

Ladies and Gents, I'm moving up in the world.

B.A. Blues

One of the things that I've learned to love about life is how it makes no sense. At all. Ever. For instance, I'm completely fascinated by the fact that everyone is hugely impressed by my degree from Berkeley. Everyone, that is, except the people I'm supposed to be impressing by having it.

In other words, everyone's mom/sister/grandma/teacher/aunt/uncle/trainer/friend is fascinated by my accomplishments. It usually looks something like, "you graduated? woooooowwwww, that's great, good for you!" Then comes the inevitable "so what are you doing now?" question, which I'll tackle in another blog post some other time. In the mean time, while everyone oohs and ahhs over my degree, I apply for unpaid writing internships and get turned down. Or just flat out ignored.  Too bad funemployment isn't a career option.

Would You Date Me?

Recently, I was chatting with a good friend over coffee when he presented me with this gem: "To be honest, I'm not sure if I would date me."

"I would date you!" I said immediately. "I would date me, too. I think."

We laughed and the conversation went on, but later, I started thinking...would I actually date myself?


My friend's statement originally came about while discussing those who had expressed that they hadn't wanted to date us in the past. We wanted to figure out what about us had turned them off. We're both well educated, funny, attractive, and caring people, so what is it about us that is so undesirable?

"Think about it," he said. "While we may be mature for our age, we're still in our twenties, living at home with our parents. We have dead-end jobs and we're not pursuing the careers we ultimately want in life. If I met me and heard all these things, I'd be like, 'yeah right, get back to me in five years when you've actually done it."

I'd like to think that if I'd give myself the benefit of the doubt if I was flirting with myself in a bar somewhere, but you never know. Have my standards for others exceeded the standards I have for myself ? It may be time for a life makeover. But wait, I already knew that.

What is Summa Cum Nada?

It is the acceptance of all things had, and lately, of all things lost. It is an explanation of the fast track to nowhere, an exploration of the meaning found in not-so-much, the experience of not knowing what's next, and the endurance to push through the nonsense.

I'm a recent graduate from the number one university in the country (go bears!) who graduated at the top of her class (Summa Cum Laude...get it now?) in a major that no one cares about (I studied people...seemed relevant at the time). After being thrown out into the wilderness, I moved home with my parents (hello, high school), attempted to get a "real" job (failure), and got dumped by my boyfriend of two and a half years (cat lady in the making). Now I'm a college grad with nowhere to go and nothing to do, using my four year degree from UC Berkeley to dust shelves, sit behind a computer, and work with children at a nearby fitness center. Needless to say, my life isn't quite what I thought it would be just a few months ago.

These are my challenges; this is my story.