Dear Work Force: Eff You
I will not have a career. I graduate in December and the number one question the universe has for me is: so what do you plan to do next?
…well, I don’t know. I cheekily tell people I have plans of saving the world, but don’t tell them I’m serious. I really do want to save the world.
I don’t want to work in an office and focus on my paycheck and clock in and clock out and look forward to the weekends. My Tuesdays will be just as good as my Saturdays. I want to work just as hard on a Saturday towards the greater good that I do on a Tuesday.
I don’t want to just focus on my career and dumb bosses and dressing nice and making payments on everything so I can pay off my student debt before I’m 60.
I am about to get a degree in politics. I will put my knowlege of the global population to use by helping them hands-on. I want to physically carry clean drinking water to people. I want to participate in organic farming (application for wwoof.org: check).
I want to blow up a Wal*Mart. I want to buy from local mom and pops forever and ever. I want to live out of a backpack and travel everywhere.
I never ever ever want to live beyond my means. I want to fall in love with so many people. I want to tell so many women that their fake tan looks incredibly stupid.
Eff you, work force. You will not make me work 9-5, Monday-Friday. I’ve already been there, and I’ve decided that that life is a dismal one.