Pre-Professional

I often convince myself that certain typically un-me life prospects are just what I need in my life. I began last week inspired to do Teach For America. Given my fascination with wankers, pimps, society portraiture, the postwar jet set, and all things Parisian, Teach For America seemed like a natural career move. By Thursday, I had come to my senses and decided that "being a warm body in front of a classroom" in the Mississippi Delta was not actually my cup of tea. The London Consortium, a graduate program in Cultural Studies and Humanities seemed like a more appropriate next step. When I looked at the website, Brigitte Bardot's face was the first image that popped up, and I took it as a sign from God that I should apply.

I recently convinced myself that I should become an opinions columnist for The Yale Herald. With two articles already published, my narrative style seems to be a bit much for the content-light, thesis-heavy taste of the editors. They rejected my last article, claiming that "the thesis was rather obvious." They suggested I re-write it with a new thesis (of their choice) which I found just as "rather obvious" as the first.

Ever since my days at "The Barn Cooperative Nursery School," where I would show up for costume day dressed as a teal-transvestite-sequined mermaid, I have felt like a round peg in a square hole.