The Dark-Eyed Mistress of Sweet, Sweet Pain (jenni_the_odd) wrote,
The Dark-Eyed Mistress of Sweet, Sweet Pain

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I am hating this semester. Hating so very hard.
Business Communication and Senior Seminar are essentially extended classes in Planning Your Visions For Your Future and How To Make Your Goals A Reality and Let's Learn About Ourselves And How Our Personalities Work.
Which means every assignment seems to somehow involve our plans for our careers or our 'chosen fields' or some form of ambition that curiously enough, my classmates... actually appear to have. At the very least, they have long-term goals. Sure, maybe they have no idea what they'll be doing in five years, but at some point down the road, Classmate A wants to own a cafe, or Classmate B wants to head a marketing department somewhere.

I'm still focusing on that old favorite, "not dying in a phenomenally stupid way." That is the entirety of my goals for life. Losing weight, sure, that'd be nice, but let's face it -- we all know I'd still hate myself every bit as much if I were skinny. Dying is okay. Dying in a manner that will result in news articles concerning the events surrounding my death being posted on Livejournal for lulz... not so much.

Unfortunately, this fetishistic obsession with career goals means I have to stare into the abyss on a near-daily basis, pretend that I think I will be alive and functional in five years (and pretend that I want to be), and in all ways indicate that I believe the things I am reading and learning have some sort of worth. This is, of course, completely untrue. I wish to burn these books, not to prevent their content from being transmitted to others, but out of a malicious and gleeful craving to destroy their place in my life. The feeling I get looking at my business assignments and textbooks is similar to the sensation I experience when I see a 100-lb girl complain about what a fat whale she is: There is a draining, sinking feeling of hopelessness in the pit of my stomach, my throat becomes tight and dry, and as gravity begins to pull harder on me than on any of my surroundings, I start looking for rafters from which to hang myself.

I am thinking that majoring in Business may have been a mistake.

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