I need a job. I've always been terrible at finding them, especially through more official means where one sends in a CV, lands an interview, and gets to work. I'm used to the process where one shoots an e-mail, has a chat, gets the job, gets to work. That's how it goes in some of the places I've worked for. But I need a job and there's this creeping feeling in my stomach that I just won't be able to tough it. I won't be able to chase up the leads, to land the interview, to keep the position once I've earned it. I'm afraid to leave my insulated little bubble, even if it's not as stable as I'd like it to be.
I call it my Millennial Terror because my generation is so often accused of refusing to grow up. We crave, what, stability? Safety? Comfort? Whatever it is that our parents provide, that layer of emotional and fiscal insulation between us and the rest of the world. I know it's crap, I have so many friends who dive out into the real world and embrace the chaos every day. Me...
I lie awake sometimes worrying about what I'm going to have to do when I finally finish my PhD. Yes, I want to teach. But what will I teach? How will I teach it? Will I even be a good lecturer? Will the students roll their eyes and slump in their seats when I step into the room or will their eyes shine when I bring up a new point? How will I even get to a place where such an opportunity is possible?
I call it my Millennial Terror because my generation is so often accused of refusing to grow up. I have no idea when or if I will truly be able to leave my parents' nest. Can I find a job? Can I hold it down? Can I make enough money to stand on my own? Will I always be this over-grown woman/child? I don't know. I really don't. And I don't know where to start...
Happy Father's Day, Poppa. Your daughter still can't get her shit together.
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