I love to color. And by "I love to color," I literally mean "I love to color." (You may use all the crayons in the box, Samantha Jones, but I am damn good at staying in the lines.) My mother actually sent me a Garfield-themed coloring book and new crayons in a package recently. I was ecstatic; giddy for new crayons and a stress relief.
Stress, as of late, has been quite the theme. Not only am I attempting to wrap up the school year, but I am also graduating. That means I am in need of a job. And, as the boyfriend is also graduating, that means he needs a job.
In fact, the boyfriend was on campus Tuesday. Though I would like to believe that my quirky face (read: dimples and an uneven "fang") were what he desperately needed to see, I know that the main reason he visited campus was far from personal. Rather, he was at a job fair.
I, too, had a job fair Tuesday. Conveniently, it was located in the ballroom next to the ballroom in which the boyfriend's career fair was being held. I shuffled between the fairs, bored with the number of financial institutions and retailers.
"I'm bored," I said, twisting my red heels.
A. smiled. "You're bored?"
"Ye-ah. Bored. I did give my resume to a company I will never work for, though. CLAIMS? Why the heck would I work in claims?"
"Why did you give them your resume, then?"
"They asked, but only after I said I was comfortable with relocating," I answered ironically.
A. smiled, looking around his scantily-populated fair.
Sadly, the boyfriend didn't have much luck, as many of the educational institutions present were not hiring for the position he is seeking. Referring to the "struggling economy" and the unemployment rate of people our age, the boyfriend mentioned that we are the "Lost Generation."
"We're the only generation since the Industrial Revolution that isn't going to make more than our predecessors."
I couldn't provide a cohesive answer. Rather, I remained quiet, answering only that I would earn more than my parents, ultimately, because neither one of them has a college degree.
Indeed, the Industrial Revolution made me think of the 1800s, which made me think of the Restoration, which made me think of the Civil War, which made me think of World War I, which made me think of the "real" "Lost Generation."
Used to refer to the generation that "came of age" during World War I, the "Lost Generation" was, in a way, coined by Gertrude Stein. In fact, she was in the process of telling Ernest Hemingway a story about her mechanic, and ended the conversation by saying, "That is what you are. That's what you all are ... All of you young people who served in the war. You are a lost generation."
Good old Gertrude. Just one. Just one. Just one. A rose is a rose is rose is a what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about-woman? Unlike Faulkner, whose writing--let's be honest--can barf rainbows all over my crappy day, you torture my soul. Reading "Tender Buttons" is almost as good as your dog rolling around in the feces-covered pasture on the other side of the fence. Reading "As I Lay Dying" is almost as good as Klonopine.
What would really make me happy, though, is finding a job. There are people I graduated with who already have a job. Who already purchased a house with a large mortgage. Who are already married and/or have children.
Me? I will have student loans the size of a small mortgage. I will also have a Garfield-themed coloring book. Just one Garfield-themed coloring book, though. Just one.