Salutations. This is a rather temperamental blog, but you may enjoy it - if literature, coffee, permaculture, veganism, humanism, theatre, cute baby animals, snippets of idealism, and broad swaths of cynicism are the sorts of things likely to amuse you as they do me.The Me-Thing My fitblr Questions Make the World Go Round
9.5 years. That’s how long it’s going to take me to pay back my student loans. That’s for a mere B.A. – a degree in English Literature, no less – with which I’m highly unlikely to get a job lucrative enough for me to repay the loans any faster. Kids, this is the cost of studying what you love. Well, also the cost of having illnesses that preclude you from keeping your scholarship, which would have helped a lot.
I’ve been feeling refreshingly proud of myself over the past several weeks, thinking that I achieved the life goals of having an English degree, writing my thesis (even a lousy undergraduate one), etc. etc. I’ve been thinking that maybe there is some hope for me yet, since I attained the stuff of those dreams. But the material result is a massive amount of debt. I can’t really live much more frugally than I’m doing right now, and I’m still looking for a job in a new city, and I should repay my parents for the financial help they gave me over the years, and I need to help pay the bills with my partner. I’m so overwhelmed right now and loathing myself for not thinking ahead, not starting to save earlier in my teenage years for school, not having more part-time jobs than I did throughout my university career. I can see now how utterly naive I was about money, believing that I would simply find a way to earn it when the time came that I needed it. Now here I am, twenty-three and essentially without functional skills or work prospects. Ye gods. But now I have to end this on a less selfish note, less for my dear reader’s sake than for my own …
- - yes, this is a moment of panic that will pass eventually, and I’ll get through these first-world problems and remember that the privilege of my education, the learning I chose to seek, is worth any amount of discomfort now. And it really is worth it. Even if that truth isn’t making things much easier right now. Fellow starving ex-students, hang in there. “We are many, they are few,” or whatever Shelley said about solidarity in suffering. The maiden Hope walks before us even when we can’t see her.