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I am going home in a few months for a week. I am bringing a boy with whom I sleep. I am also thinking of going to my old high school, looking up my old guidance counselor, and punching her directly in the throat. Connecting those dots is no easy task, but I'm up to it.
Back in my bright-eyed, bushy-tailed Niskayuna High School days, I was told by this system-fucking she-bitch, that college was the only way to get ahead in life. Go to a good college, get a good job, meet a good boy, have a good life. So, like the good little sheep I was successfully brainwashed into being, I went to college. FOR 8 MOTHER FUCKING YEARS. One would think, in that amount of time I would have found the best job, and the best boy. One would be wrong.
What I did accrue in my collegiate carrier was a series of bad romantic decisions, and the ability to better analyze and articulate the ways in which society is consistently ass-fucks us all. And I have a handful of diplomas to back that claim up.
Now I am working a job that makes water boarding seem like a fun alternative, and am dating a guy who I trust about as much as I should have trusted that butt-pirate guidance counselor.
I do both, daily. Why? Because when you connect those dots, la la la la, they make a dunce cap. Now wear it proud, and get ready for work.