molly mary o'brien

ask me about my plans

Yesterday was so nice because I went to a quiet place and drank some powerful coffee and did things on my computer.  I futzed with one of my short stories, I copyedited essays for the catalog of an art show, I wrote a music review and a short essay.

The writing and the editing and the music-reviewing are the things I would like to do for money in the future.  When people ask me about my postgraduate plans, I say I’m going to “waitress and freelance.”  Some people pat me on the back and say, Wow, that’s great Molly.  That’s awesome that you know what you want to do.  Other people get cloudy looks on their faces, probably because it would be easier for most people to say Wow, that’s great Molly if my response were “grad school” or “coveted internship” or “steady employment.”

A few weeks ago I was in line at a sandwich shop, saw a recent Skidmore grad and said hello.  He asked me about my plans.  When I gave the “waitress and freelance” spiel he made the face and asked me if I was going to grad school (no) and if I was applying for internships (not yet?) and finally if I was going to look for a real job.  I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t aware real jobs were available at this moment, that I assumed they were out of stock, backordered.  I didn’t — instead I asked him what he was up to these days.  He told me he was a personal trainer.  He was puffed with pride and, presumably, new muscles.  I took my turkey sandwich back to my table and was convinced that the peak of post-grad condescension had just occurred.

There is a very high chance that this time next year I will be making fancy turkey sandwiches for personal trainers in order to fund what I really want to do.  That’s just fine.  As my professor says, “Worse things have happened at sea.”  And as my former roommate says, “A personal trainer is just some guy who works at the YMCA.”