Sad, Empty Inbox

This is ridiculous how much I have to make myself write a post. You always read all those books by writers saying that you need to write everyday in order to discipline yourself. Well, this discipline is really cutting into my time scrolling through Tumblr and watching the Kardashians (zero shame; their vacation in Greece was like an Showtime miniseries).

I keep my email open in a tab so I can tell when I get a new message, hoping and praying that when my inbox receives new mail, it'll be some job telling me they need me and can't live without me. I'm not even hoping for one of the those jobs I applied to three months ago when I was setting my expectations WAY too high. I'm just hoping the Starbucks in Meijer or Hallmark or that part-time bank telling gig throws me a bone. But my mail is usually just a promotional email with Biggby coupons or one of the many MoveOn/DemocracyNow!/CREDO Action newsletters telling me that we need to stop capitalism and fracking by signing some petition. I remember when I subscribed to all those lists and feeling so proud of myself for being so "politically engaged." Now I'm just like, "you are not an email from a potential employer, friend, or even a Barnes and Noble coupon. Delete." It's amazing how quick that activism a liberal arts education inspires in you vanishes once your top priorities become moving out of your grandparents house and trying to get out of bed each morning.

I've become too reliant on the outside world to come to me. I always used to be one of those people who could just leave her (dumb) phone and enjoy a couple hours without beeps and vibrations (different kind of vibrations are a whole different story). But now I'm constantly checking my phone hoping someone has tried to make contact. I actually will text a ton of people just so I can get at least one response and remind myself that I DO HAVE FRIENDS. I DO! Really. It's just hard when they're not around and thus you have no one to get a drink with. Essentially this is me when I do get a text or email: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N1wUirNlR0U

Such struggles.

In the time I wrote this post I received:
One email from one of my close friends/former roommates (Score!)
One text from same said friend. (I'm counting that as a separate point.)

Lena Dunham Get the Last Laugh

Some people told me that I should start a blog. One: to keep me writing now that I'm no longer required to do so for a grade and no one wants to hire me to do so and Two: So that maybe someone will see this and think, "Gee, she seems pithy. Maybe we should hire her!" And then I will land my dream-job, working for Entertainment Weekly, writing cultural commentary, and being paid to rant about how much I hate the Emmy's or why the Academy must have been high when Shakespeare in Love won over Saving Private Ryan, or leap for joy that Dan Harmon is back on Community then cry about Donald Glover leaving (WHY CAN NOTHING WORK OUT HOW IT IS SUPPOSED TO?!?! DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS GOING TO DO TO ABED???!!!)

 I also love pop culture more than I love some people so I promise I wouldn't be one of those people who hate everything, in fact, I love and have loved (I'm looking at you Kevin, Joe, and Nick) a lot of embarrassing things without shame.

So here I am, Carrie Bradshaw-ing my post-grad life. And I can't help but wonder, does post-grad life mean post-great? I hope people know that I was just trying to make a joke. I think I already sound like an asshole and I'm actually super self-conscious so any terrible jokes or pretentious mutterings are all in an attempt to amuse myself or make myself feel better.

I think the thing that already makes me cringe at this whole endeavor is how "Lena Dunham" this all is. Maybe it's because I went to a small liberal arts school that taught me how to criticize anything white and upper-middle class (have I mentioned that I am white and upper-middle class?) that I looked upon Ms. Dunham with disdain.

"Ugh, a privileged 20-something trying to be a writer and complaining about how her parents won't support her life in NYC? Bleh. Don't you know that there are transgender children starving in Africa?!"
But then I watched a couple episodes of Girls and laughed out loud. The writing was good.

Then I actually graduated from college as an English major and realized the writing was really good.

Mainly because I now find myself lying face-down on my bed, crying about why no one will hire me when for the past four years I've been told what a special unique snowflake I am by my professors.


So:
Dear Ms. Dunham,
Let me formally apologize for calling you black.
Sincerely,
The Kettle

p.s. Can you get me a job?