On Monday night I got drunk on one San Miguel and a Cosmopolitan.
It’s hardly surprising that my tolerance to alcohol has worsened lately. I haven’t drunk a drop in weeks. Instead, I’ve been overdosing on caffeine, sitting up till 3am writing my dissertation on the hardships prostitutes faced in early-modern society. I handed it in on Friday, after the most stressful and surreal four weeks of my life.
Writing a dissertation is a funny thing, it’s like running on a constant treadmill that you’re desperate to depart, only once you do, you’re not entirely content with the result. Anyone who says they are one-hundred percent happy with their dissertation, (snooty bastards), is lying. There’s always something you’re going to pick at. With me it was my bibliography.
After my final exam, that was it and I’d finished my degree. I have to say I felt totally lost. What the hell am I going to do now? Then it dawned on me; “I’ve hit a new low, I’m not a student anymore, I’m a twenty-something year old with fucking responsibilities. Shit.” I then began to have horrifying visions of crummy office jobs with bad air conditioning, bad coffee, bad baby photos and bad bosses that are reminiscent of Donald Trump.
Oh, that reminds me: Clinton vs. Trump, what the fuck America?
Anyway, fortunately I’ve got a place at Kings College London to do an MA in Early Modern History. However, unfortunately the historian I want to work with for my dissertation is on sabbatical. So, that means a gap year, which will probably be filled with, you guessed it, a crummy office job.
Think positive thoughts Lydia. It can only get better.
P.s. Haven’t you heard? Azealia Banks has joined the evil Cyborgs.
~Beware of the Trumpists~