Career Choices

I've been thinking about employment a lot recently, mostly because of my complete lack of it, and I've come to the conclusion that every English Lit graduate does at one point or another. I have exactly two career paths open to me. I must now either write a book or become a teacher. The fact that writing anything over the length of a shopping list (or, on a good day, a particularly piquant Facebook comment) makes me want to set my eyes alight (consider, not only the obvious pain involved here, but also the exhorbitant cost, owing to the current petrol shortage), makes the first option seem unlikely. In four years at university I wrote roughly twenty essays, and on only one of them did I ever manage to break the word limit. The most I can hope for is a short story or two. A novella at best.

So I look to teaching. When someone finds out you're doing an English degree they invariably jump to the same conclusion. Why studying literature should automatically mean I want to talk Lewis Grassic Gibbon at some little idiot in a woollen sweater with chewed cuffs is beyond me. To my mind, a lifetime of sitting in a room full of bored teenagers, pretending not to see them whispering or eating Skittles or dry humping behind the overhead projector would be hell. But... the holidays. I know career choice shouldn't be based on how much time is spent not doing the job, but according to my reliable source (ok, Wikipedia) pupils only attend school for 190 days a year. Despite this, I can almost guarantee that for those 190 days, I would wake up feeling that same attraction to the jerry can and the eyedrops.

At least if I was writing a novel my eyes would be on fire in the peace and comfort of my own home.

Treading a Fine Line

Just arrived back from Stobo Castle health spa, where my mother took me as a graduation present. It was possibly the best place I've ever been, ever. But it was also really weird. I didn't realise how thin the line between pampering and fetish is until this week. Something about being scrubbed with flannels, almost to the point of pain, slathered in mud and wrapped in plastic makes you consider these things. Having said that, while lying, encased in cling film and covered with roughly seventy three towels, I was less considering the significance of this boundary and more trying to bend time with my mind so that I could stay there a little longer. Before my back massage, I spent a few minutes worrying about the implications of paying someone to touch me, but those thoughts vanished moments later and I was suddenly considering asking the masseuse to be my wife. At one point, my mum and I got drunk and I painted a plate. I have to say, I'm a little fuzzy on the details, but I don't think it'll arrive at our door next week, glazed and fired, emblazoned with a scrawled design of crudely drawn penises and "Beth rulez!!". Hopefully.

A Horrendously Girly Post

I learned an excellent tip today from the lovely girl at the MAC makeup counter (my receipt tells me her name is Joanne). She said that by layering eyeshadow over a base of black eyeliner, the colours become more vibrant. Well, she wasn't wrong. I tried it out with a few shades when I got back, and these were the results. The first and third rows are the eye shadows layered over black eyeliner, and the 2nd and 4th are the shadows on their own.

1st & 2nd rows L to R: Barry M Dazzle Dust in "Khaki", Urban Decay Eyeshadow in "Stalker", Urban Decay Eyeshadow in "Shattered"
3rd & 4th rows L to R: Collection 2000 Dazzle Me! Dust in "Bewitch", Collection 2000 Dazzle Me! Dust in "Fairy Dust", Boots 17 Eyeshadow in 'Beyond Bronze"

I also found a possible contender for the graduation ball dress, this gorgeousness from Karen Millen. It's a little out there, but I think that's what I'm looking for. The worry is I'll look back at photos in 20 years time and cringe, but that'll probably happen anyway now that I hold the above knowledge of how to paint sections of my face a vivid electric blue.

Also, if there was a do-your-best-impression-of-an-indie-tosser competition, I think I'd win.

Finished

Well, I'm now officially a graduand, and also officially sick of that word. There must be like two months every year in which that word gets its usage quota, because nobody says it at any other time. It must be so jealous of 'graduate'. That damn word gets all the love.

So now I'm in a weird limbo where I'm still technically a student but I have no work that I can ignore. It's like the summer between high school and university but a lot scarier.

I'm currently on the lookout for a dress for my graduation ball, and having quite a lot of fun playing with the online design studio at Style Shake.

Everything's Fine

A library book I thought I had lost forever was today found, exactly where I had left it. Well, the owners of the cafe presumably moved it from the floor. I was able to return it with no fines. Unlike earlier in the year when I had to pay a whopping £25 for keeping a Reserve book for a day. Yes. One day equals twenty five pounds. I understand they have these fines for a reason but seriously, it gets to a point where the library staff must just be sitting around in the back guffawing and toasting me with Cristal. Yes, the library staff are ghetto fabulous.

I am coveting these shoes. I think they would look awesome with skinny jeans and as soon as I'm finished my exams, I'm marching down to Princes Street and buying myself them as a graduation present. Maybe. If I can afford them.

I need a job.

Tentative Success

Well, the exam went much better than expected, mainly due to my last-minute revision binge and a chance look at the images of an essay I wrote last year. I now have one exam left; two hours of Hellenistic Art are all that stand between me and graduation. Since the exam is only worth 40% of the course and I'm averaging a first for that one, I'm quietly confident. Famous last words.

I'm supposed to be finishing a job application the deadline for which is tomorrow. I'm definitely going to finish it, but how much of the night it takes me is another matter.

Introductions

I'm Beth. Hi.

I'm 22 and about to graduate from university and I thought I'd document this time in my life through the medium of interpretive dance the internet. I've blogged before, at such illustrious websites as LiveJournal and the now-defunct Kebeol.net and PuppyPizza.com (which has recently been taken over by people who actually sell pizza for puppies).

I am a crafter and (I hesitate to say it) artist and I hope to one day work in a job that lets me use these creative skills rather than having to watch other people have all the fun.

I currently live and work at student halls of residence as a House Assistant, which basically involves me glaring at first years a lot. At this precise moment I'm attempting to ignore the exam (Death and Burial in Imperial and Republican Rome) looming tomorrow morning.