Monday, September 25, 2006

so much more than an MRS degree

There are times when I wish that I'd gone to college to find a husband, when I wish that my resume and my GPA didn't matter, when I wish that my parents paid my rent. This is one of those times.

Sometimes I just wish so badly that I could be a different person, who doesn't concern herself with things like independent security or self-respect, so that instead of being up at 1 am with no hope of finding sleep tonight I'd be cuddling under a duvet with my future husband, who of course I trust completely to love and support me forever, and thus a plan of my own is irrelevant. I wouldn't really give a fuck about my papers and tests and meetings and work, because as long as I don't flunk out I get my degree. I'd get out of class tomorrow, well-rested, maybe play some tennis and then hit up a bar to watch the Saints' return to the Dome on Monday Night Football. Not that I won't do that anyway, I probably will. But I'll be cranky after staying up all night and, at the back of my mind, I won't be able to shake the nagging worries of emails and electric bills and, let's not forget, paychecks.

This isn't even a feminist thing, because I know plenty of guys who are skating through college on their parents' support and the ill-advised belief that a degree alone will get you a job. This is a grown-up thing. This is an excellence thing. There are days when I want to me a lazy, mediocre, child, content in my sloth and ignorance.

A girl I know has listed under Activities in her facebook profile, "I am a lady of leisure." WTF. Must be nice. And do you plan on being a lady of leisure eternally, or just until a huge job market opens up for double majors in English and WGS* with no work experience whatsoever? Are you planning on somebody taking care of you for the rest of your life? What kind of feminist are you?

But that's not me. So I'm up all night waiting for the phone to ring, signaling someone in need of my crisis-counseling expertise. There's a couch here in case I get a chance to nap. I've got a paper on Narcissus behind me and another one on Wilde due in about nine hours. A test and two meetings this week, grad school applications due right around the corner. I just want to sleep.

But ya know, when I type up that resume before even making it out of undergrad and can barely cram it down to an appropritate length, and I can graduate with the satisfaction of being in the top 15% of my class, and I know that if a man ever leaves me standing, I'll be devastated because I loved him and not because I built my life around him and him alone, it seems worth it.

One more semester, I can make it. I'll be walking across that stage with a man, a plan, and a fucking degree. A veritable success in all areas. But can I take two more years of this? I just want to rest for a bit, with a cushy day job that doesn't require overtime. Does that make me a quitter?

*Womens & Gender Studies


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