The Long Way Up

I need to console myself on the difficulty of pursuing a career in art, which means exercising (exorcising?) some demons. As such, this isn't a happy blog entry. It's another critique of the higher education system, and a small amount of feeling sorry for myself and all other creative people who are struggling right now.

That's the disclaimer. This one's for all my chums with English, Creative Writing, and various other humanties-related majors. Good luck, guys. Keep doing what you love.


"Hung-Over and Educated"
Today feels like one of those bad mornings after the fact. As a matter of course, I was out all night earning art degrees. I woke up today with a pile of them beside the bed and a skull-splitting headache. I vaguely remembered my friends trying to cut me off, but once I got going, there was no stopping. When it came time to close out the tab, I thought I had misread the bill.

"Ha, ha. There must be some mistake here," I slurred. "This bill is for thousands of dollars."
"Yep. Those student loans will getcha," soothed the bartender as he idly cleaned the counter.
"Well, I don't have the money to pay this. I don't even have a job," I cried out, on the verge of panic.
"That's alright, mate. Use that pile o' degrees to get you a good job," he winked, tapping the side of his nose.
"Oh. Sure, good idea, Mister. Can I have a job here?"
"Maybe. Do you know all the right people?"
"Well, no. But I'm really driven to succeed, sir."
"What!?" He bellowed, breaking a glass. "Times are tight these days, son! It's not about some shim-sham drive to succeed! It's about working the inside track!"
"Golly," I whispered after a stunned moment's silence.
"What's that now?" the bartender asked.
"Nothing."