After the Bubble bursts

Eric Prichard

When I was still in school, upon learning my majors – classics and religious studies — ask me, “What are you going to do with that? Teach?” Those comments always bothered me, partly because I think that getting a good education actually makes you employable, and partly because the NEA is ruining America. But guess what, jerks: I have a job!
In fact, I have a fairly good job. I’ve been working for Epic, a healthcare software company near Madison, for about four months. I’ve joined alumni such as Matthew Nelson and Rob Ryan’s friend. If someone asks me what I’ve done since graduation and I don’t want to talk to them for very long, that’s what I tell them. In truth, however, I’ve done a lot more that that since graduation.
For example, I’m still writing rhymes in my spare time. Skybox and I are planning on releasing an album full of party jams in early ’09. We’re trying to get signed by Rhymesayers but if that doesn’t work out Mike Noyce can probably get us a record deal at Jugjugular.
I have also been exploring other creative outlets. I’m working on a novel during my lunch at work, and I really enjoy the artistic break in the day. The book is about a young professional who is afraid that his job is killing his soul. He overvalues money and security and marries because he can’t afford a housekeeper. I have not finished it yet, but I’ve sort of written myself into a corner. The story can only end in adultery, divorce and loneliness.
Speaking of loneliness, you may be wondering what the Real World is like. The Real World is a lot like life: there are good parts and bad parts. My Real World experience has made me good at teaching life lessons. One bad part is that you rarely see your old friends. Making new friends is usually not worth it because most people are somehow even less interesting than your classmates. The silver lining is that you appreciate meeting good people all the more. You also have more time for weightlifting.
Another tough part of the Real World is that you experience a new type of angst upon starting what could be a career. Creating meaning for your life is a tough task made harder when that meaning could very well end up being a 9-5 (or 7-5) job. Sisyphus had an advantage in that his nose was so close to the grind-boulder that he couldn’t see the pallor of his actions. Going to grad school, traveling, and working throwaway jobs are a coward’s ways out, and I endorse them.
The Real World is not without its perks, however. I am rich, for example, or at least not broke, as long as you don’t consider student loans. I am very successful at my job and proud of being wealthy at such a young age. I am sort of like the Jack Kennedy of healthcare software.
There also comes a time at school, called Senior Year, when you realize that you’re nearly in your mid-twenties and still being mollycoddled by a positively umbilical residential college; that you’ve only spoken to ten people older than 30 over the past two weeks; that you’ve been greatly concerned with inconsequential things for the past three years. This isn’t Senioritis, this is blood pooling in your legs, and it can be painful. Luckily, graduating cures this ailment.
It is also a lot of fun to live in Madison because there are a lot of babes here.

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