Thursday, February 02, 2006

Fuck it was the story of your life. You read somewhere that, on average, a child’s first words are Mommy, No, Up and Daddy. While you had no actual record of it, you were reasonably convinced that ‘defeatist’ must have been yours. How, then, you ended up in your line of work was one question that would have fascinated Aaron Beck.

Cognative therapy aside, you propped your slightly wilted salad up on the steering wheel and took another slug of coffee.

“Ah, the glamorous life,” you groaned, impaling a piece of arugala on your fork. Six months ago you discovered the keys to survival – shirk duties. Political strategy was one of your only true loves, so when your advisor cornered you in the hallway for what must have been the four-hundred and fifty thousandth time waving a declaration form in your face, a polticial science major seemed to make sense. Well, that and it was one of the check-box options.

posted by Kay @ 2:01 PM