‘You’re being unfair. You can’t force me to be a lady.’– Jessa, Girls
It has taken me over a fortnight to process thoughts into this column; I have been hiding from my soon-to-be ‘Graduate’ status with three whole series of Girls and the contents of my fridge. My name is Erica, and I am an addict. With each episode I promised myself I would start this column, write another chapter of my manuscript or post my Curriculum Vitae on another website. Well, I achieved reached Series Three. The rejection letter from the internship I applied to did not help; the reason given was that I did not apply before the end of the working day on the deadline date. Was it a test when they kept this required time a secret? In the meantime I took up the new Self-Employed title of ‘Celebrator’. One History Leavers’ Awards, four or five nights ‘out-out’, a weekend drinking (and several attempts at tour-guiding) on my closing-campus and a tiny trip to Prague later; I have finally left History, history. Except my newest self-proclaimed title of ‘Historical Fiction Writer’; I have yet to demonstrate this on paper.
Now that I have had a big meeting with an important person about funding, two things are clear. One of these; that you will never get a desirable reaction when entertaining the concept of asking for fifty thousand pounds, despite attempting to phrase it in several ways. Being advised not to give up despite rejection led to reading Glamour magazine for inspiration; I discovered that ‘Andres from Colombia’ lies regularly ‘to his girlfriend about his drug use. At least I am single with no knowledge of where Colombia is. Achieving a 2.1 on my dissertation despite 48 hours awake prior to the deadline did not manage to soothe my anxiety over my future prospects, and instead led me straight back to series two of Girls and plenty of crisps, with dip. This was infinitely easier than facing the ‘End of an Era’ with life-changing friends who are about to scatter themselves all over the world and begin exciting lives without me; no, Facebook is not the same and I am not too sentimental. At the History Leavers’ Awards I was voted ‘Most Likely to Cry Tonight’. I lived up to this later in the evening on the step of the doorway to Mbargos. You have all been there. Saying goodbye to St. Matts only resulted in further crying, although I blame the amount of food and alcohol present. One writing opportunity resulted from this, despite the tears.
Spending two entire days in Minnie Mouse pajamas whilst coming to terms with the Election results led to a false sense of confidence; I found myself engaging in twitter arguments with UKIPers until 4am. I prefer to think of this as education in practice, or Disney life-lessons. I made one step in the right direction by booking Graduation (although my bank account does not agree). Whilst attempting to order robes and unnecessarily expensive photo packages, I discovered the Graduation FAQ page, and a question asking what to do when you are ‘not sure what degree you are on’. How? Even Siricould not give me answers to my Graduation crisis; turning to my father resulted in advice to go into Finance and Banking. Evidently, I have been talking to a wall. In positive news, I have been granted free tickets to the London Short Story Festival next weekend and I have been offered to continue this column as a new member of Alumni. Next week’s will feature thoughts on my recent trip to Prague and my final week of funding attempts. The second thing that became clear at the meeting? Telling a proper adult that you want to write a Memoir at 22 is possibly not a fabulous idea.