Some of the most common advice I get is to 'apply for everything', so, I did. Needless to say I was not expecting a phonecall five minutes after I had applied at 8pm asking me to describe what the PR industry is about.
The stupid thing is I know what it is, well roughly at least, but I was so taken aback that anybody had even called and so quickly, I got flustered and turned into a repetitive, babbling fool. I tried to think on my feet and completely fell down.
On being told by the woman on the end of the phone that she had 'already spoken to other candidates who had more of a grasp of PR', I just felt that crushing realisation that to find a serious job you have to treat the searching as a job itself. Having no quick and witty answers stuffed up my sleeve is not going to work. Still I maintain, it is unfair to catch one so completely off guard.
As always, I was quickly struck down by heaps of self-loathing and punished myself by truly believing that I am useless and stupid. I think, at least I hope, that this is a common feeling among struggling graduates and that I am not really doomed to failure because of the occasional negative tendancies.
After a run in the rain and some more weeping I decided to go to sleep. Needless to say, I was back to my usual self the next day and fully prepared for another day of chopping vegetables and mixing sandwich fillings, wahaaay!
On the bus back from school when I was about thirteen, I asked a friend what word she would use to describe me. After a little thought, she decided 'honest' was most appropriate. From that moment on I prided myself on having this strong, and often feared, trait. I genuinely believe that it is the best policy. When you are honest, people know where they stand; honesty, ultimately, makes good things happen and that is what I aim for when writing this blog.
So, even though I read Derrida's theories (and Baudrillard and Foucault and Marx and Freud) I'm not too ashamed to admit that I have absolutely no recollection of their ideas at all! Although, having said that, nobody could forget Freud and his Oedipus complex babble. It only remained in my head because it amused me. Enough of it has clung in the recesses of my mind to allow me to have an opinion on something supposedly academic.
Freud? Yeah, he was a nutter!
Thursday, 18 March 2010
Wednesday, 10 March 2010
The life and times of a recession-whipped graduate.
Hannah. It's a palindrome and so Hannindrome bursts forth, relatively quietly and inconspicuously into the unthinkably large land of the internet.
I keep being told that nothing literary is new anymore, that there is no originality. Everything is constantly being repeated, spewed, regurgitated. I definitely agree but it is a rather bleak outlook to take. Especially for all those writers just starting out. No longer do we embrace pen and paper with the wondrous optimism held by those who took all the good ideas centuries ago. We know London's streets are not paved with gold. Instead we just start something off one day and hope that it will be noticed somehow by someone who was also noticed once.
I graduated in September 2009 and even though we cringed when Take That's Greatest Day cried out over our parents applauding hands, we did feel that secret excitement, that quiet hope that the mortarboard perched on our heads would mean the one thing we all dreamed of, success. Yet here I am, nearly a year after completing my English degree, working in a kitchen of a garden centre restaurant. I like to throw around the term sous chef but, in all honesty, I'm making food that I was qualified to make while still at playgroup. It's a degrading and demeaning life to lead and I try not to feel too sorry for myself because I know I am far from being the only one. Even so, I was overcome with sadness when, on completing a crossword puzzle, I realised it was the first time I'd used my brain since my dissertation.
It can be hard to feel proud of oneself when in such a predicament, however, since finishing university I have had two (horrible) jobs, saved for and bought my own car, learnt to drive and have recently moved out again. So if that doesn't qualify for an Oprah style applause, I don't know what does.
I keep being told that nothing literary is new anymore, that there is no originality. Everything is constantly being repeated, spewed, regurgitated. I definitely agree but it is a rather bleak outlook to take. Especially for all those writers just starting out. No longer do we embrace pen and paper with the wondrous optimism held by those who took all the good ideas centuries ago. We know London's streets are not paved with gold. Instead we just start something off one day and hope that it will be noticed somehow by someone who was also noticed once.
I graduated in September 2009 and even though we cringed when Take That's Greatest Day cried out over our parents applauding hands, we did feel that secret excitement, that quiet hope that the mortarboard perched on our heads would mean the one thing we all dreamed of, success. Yet here I am, nearly a year after completing my English degree, working in a kitchen of a garden centre restaurant. I like to throw around the term sous chef but, in all honesty, I'm making food that I was qualified to make while still at playgroup. It's a degrading and demeaning life to lead and I try not to feel too sorry for myself because I know I am far from being the only one. Even so, I was overcome with sadness when, on completing a crossword puzzle, I realised it was the first time I'd used my brain since my dissertation.
It can be hard to feel proud of oneself when in such a predicament, however, since finishing university I have had two (horrible) jobs, saved for and bought my own car, learnt to drive and have recently moved out again. So if that doesn't qualify for an Oprah style applause, I don't know what does.
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