As “The Search” continues, I find myself waking up at 5am every day and immediately pulling open my laptop to begin applying to jobs. Today, the lucky receivers of my pleas for employment included Hachette, Harvard Business Publishing, and what feels like hundreds of others. Each was for an internship, which is apparently all I’m useful for at the moment.

I spoke with a woman from my college who had graduated and gone on to work at a publishing agency. She was incredibly honest about my chances of getting a full-time position without any internship experience (slim to none). Not only that, but she guessed I probably wouldn’t be able to get any of the paid internships until I’d had a couple of the unpaid. So what I’ve learned this week is that I a) will be poor for at least a decade and b) am of little to no monetary value to companies. It’s just so inspiring!

Anyway, I’ve focused my job search a little more, mainly applying to internships in larger cities, now. I am doing a phone screening for a Broadcast Editor position tomorrow, and then a position at Yelp on Wednesday. Prospects, but I’ve also contacted my old manager at American Eagle to tell her to expect me for the summer. Gotta have backup plans for your backup plans. At least, I do.

I can’t explain it, but despite all the setbacks and general let downs, I can’t give up on this. I love books (are they perhaps all I love? No comment), and I want nothing more than to work with them permanently. I got a late start because I let others tell me it was a dying industry, with no jobs available and very little chance of jobs in the future. No more. People continue to say: “publishing? Really?”

And to them I respond: “hell yes”.

My dream job is to be an editor, and I’d so much rather enjoy it than make oodles and oodles of money while hating the job. That just isn’t worth it to me. For instance, I could’ve become a teacher—as everyone who hears I’m an English major assumes—but that is aggressively not for me. Teaching has never even been an option. My plans have always been outside that, because I’m pretty sure I would hate every moment. It’s not that I don’t respect teachers, or the work that they do. I’m just positive I would be terrible at it. Teaching shouldn’t be your backup, not when education matters so much right now.

Some of my English teachers are the reason I love books so much, though that did start around three years old. You can also trace my obsession back to my mother, who read to me and my sister every night before bed. I mean every. Single. Night.

Yet another inspiration? Books like Toot & Puddle, a children’s book about two pigs, one of whom loves travel and the other who is perfectly content at home. As someone who is constantly afflicted with wanderlust, that book understood me from a young age. It was like (and this sounds silly, but screw it) Toot and Puddle were the two parts of me. On the one hand, all I want to do is see new places and absorb new ideas. It’s one of the reasons I studied abroad in the fall of 2016. I’d been itching for adventure and information that I could only have gotten from that study abroad experience. But at the same time, I love my family and my home. I enjoy every break I have from school because I like the familiar as much as I like the new. I like the boring and mundane as much as I like the exciting. There’s a time for everything and every feeling, and those two pigs pretty much taught me that. And it’s always okay to come home when you need it.


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