When I Grow Up
My degree has nearly concluded, the fruits of this year’s work are being exhibited rather successfully. While this assuages the guilt I had been feeling whilst messing on the internet rather than working, it brings with it a reinforced Damocles sword with its steely whisper: “So, what do you want to do when you’ve finished Uni?”
It’s a good question, one I have to consider rather seriously now. Short term plans involve getting some more reading done, get into the habit of sketching regularly, of updating this, etc.. But those aren’t what that question is getting at: that question wants to talk about job prospects.
It’s tempting to answer glibly, to recall childhood games where I was a witch detective spy (a magic spy detective? detective spy witch? I can’t remember the order on the bespoke (obvs) business cards.) I had set up an agency in the back garden and took cases that I’d technically fabricated (clues and all), conveniently forgetting their resolutions (or leaving them to the conclusions of the clues – an early example of Death of the Author?). I’m not as enamoured of these avenues of employment as I once was, but it’s nice to hear other people’s childhood combined dream-jobs: in ‘Fuck you, Corporate-land’, Lucy Ayrton has the amazing: “You’re disappointed? I was going to be the first ever brain surgeon/rock star!”
I need to be a bit more focussed with applications, which will in turn help me figure out what sort of things to pursue. Thankfully, despite the feeling of funnelling children to vocations, it is less unusual not to have a path on which you spend your entire life. It’s a process, after all.