That’s the problem with graduating on top of your class: They always expect you to be employed immediately — earning the biggest salary in the biggest media outift, or being in the media in general.
They expect that you can embody, fulfill their definition of success and actually be somebody.
They always think you know where you’re going after graduation, that you have it all planned out and that you’re just waiting for the ceremonies to be concluded so you can run out of the doors and embrace the job that has been standing outside for you.
They have plastered all sorts of challenges, all sorts of expectations on your back because they think you have “success” written all over your forehead in bold.
But the truth is I don’t know what will become of me next month. I don’t know what I want to do, where to do it, and if I can do it. The few remaining days terrify me.
There’s just too many people watching you on the tightrope, some of them secretly wishing you’d fall.
I rolled the cigarette with my thumb and index finger before lighting it between my pursed lips. I took a drag and gave the smoke the liberty to pour out of my mouth. I looked at you from across the room, a sheet of smoke dancing between us. You must’ve picked up my “inexperience,” hence the cheeky smirk before you shifted your stare to your glass. Well, at least I got your attention.
Reminds me of high school when I had a debate with our student teacher over The Cherry Orchard. He said I was an “exceptional student” after I whooped his ass. Hahahahaha
Vienna - Billy Joel
Slow down, you’re doing fine. You can’t be everything you wanna be before your time, Although it’s so romantic on the borderline tonight, tonight. Too bad, but it’s the life you lead. You’re so ahead of yourself that you forgot what you need. Though you can see when you’re wrong, You know, you can’t always see when you’re right, you’re right.
It feels great when people listen to the music you asked them to listen to, or when they read the books you suggested them to read, or watch the shows and movies you told them were good, or play the games you thought they’d enjoy.
It’s like you made life a bit better for other people even if it just lasted for a few minutes, or hours, or days, or weeks — temporarily.
So I had this job interview last week with this American-based web development/graphic design/web design company and it went quite well if you consider making them all laugh and ultimately selling them an obsolete Nokia phone by giving it the tagline, “Breaks the floor, not your bank.”
The interview properly illustrated my hobbies and interests (which sadly, they did not ask) that includes embarrassing myself and looking sad… and dumb.
But surprisingly, my friend’s brother, who apparently worked for the company, told my friend that the CEO found me to be “the standout” among the group and was “the most likely to get hired.”
Yay for future job opportunities and I guess embarrassing yourself has its perks (in certain situations, that is).
I’m Madison Montgomery. I make seven million dollars a picture. I have two Teen Choice Awards. My mother put me to work ever since I could talk. I hated it. The last time I saw her, she snorted half my coke and then let the cops bust me for it. I am a millennial. Generation Y; born between the birth of AIDS and 9/11, give or take. They call us the global generation. We are known for our entitlement and narcissism. But it seems our one defining trait is a numbness to the world. An indifference to suffering. And that’s the rub of all this, isn’t it? I can’t feel shit. I can’t feel anything. We think that pain is the worst feeling. It isn’t. How could anything be worse than this eternal silence inside of me. I used to not eat for days, or eat like crazy then stick my fingers down my throat. Now no matter how much I binge I can’t fill this hole inside me. I can’t take it anymore. I think I’m going batshit.