Brittania. United Kingdom. “I’m a good guy, but I’m pretty sure nobody could accuse me of being cool.
It’s a difficult battle staying afloat in this environment and by that, I don’t mean a battle of pens and wits as I had hoped. Not one Brontë addict, no grammar police officers, no misunderstood artists with bad poems getting better. Mostly everybody is into corporate blogging, advertising, and communication (whatever that means). And into being hip. You must be one of them and with my heavy notebooks and rich vocabulary, I obviously am not. I am a haughty, pretentious schmuck for having declared war on the double negative. Mistakenly, I thought college to be the place I would develop my reading and writing skills, get into complex arguments about Henry James’ late work and obsess over the circles of hell with someone I would get a chance to explore sexually as well (not necessarily in that order).
Most people here have no clue how and why they got into this, to begin with. They seem to think, they can always read novels as a side hobby and regret not dedicating themselves to the real areas of interest: accounting and finance, business, IT Engineering, and hard sciences, areas that would reward them with social status, financial success and a sense of pride resulting from the fact of having overcome the fruitlessness and pointlessness of reading, writing and teaching fiction.
Like despite concessions made on my side, that I’m like really unsure when and how I am going to like be able to undo, I am afraid I might still die a virgin.”