the rambler

i graduated from college ten years ago. i mean, really, i did graduate. you can't tell, but i did.

before that my profs smile, they tell me i have a gift. they site a mock prosecution i make, and i disagree. it's said i'm throwing away my god given talent if i don't become the lawyer like my uncle or my cousin would... like i was supposed to. and what can i say: i have a morale issue? i'm not capable of entering a system of defending or opposing something i don't believe in. i believe in constitutional rights; i don't believe in my ability to defend something i don't believe in. dad tries to make the best of it: i could work in immigration law. but i don't want to.

i find out i'm graduating over thanksgiving. this is after i've already made plans to live with jord next year, and the courses i want to take. going to grad school is all but a wash. all i ever wanted to be was a teacher. they try to sign me up as a newspaper editor, which is a laugh. they drag five of us in and wait for us to fail.

i'm not bitter, honestly. i love stories and fiction, almost too most--like anybody i've ever tried to love. but dad breaks his hip, grandpa and grandma need help, i find work at a coffee shop. the rest is/or was a love story, of sorts: history.

now it's ten years later and i'm hawking my soul to a private school to work in pr/ads. no grad school will touch me. i'm going to be in school with joneses 15 years younger than me.

i'm scared shitless.