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Talking to another about the difficulties of getting a job with an English degree brought me back to why I chose to pursue it in grad school. I’m useless in maths. I have no head for hard technical business; I’m no good around people who make it all about the money.

History is nice but it doesn’t scratch my back. Now philosophy is refreshing, I’ve an eye on her. I’ve always enjoyed English literature. It’s always been the one class where I can shine a little. Where I’m more than pleased to welcome the challenge to think.

Apart from teaching, editing, writing, and such, there doesn’t seem to be much out there for the English lit major. . . but then I never wanted to be a journalist, and though I tried to find jobs as an editor, I was not confident. My blog is a witness of my bad usage of grammar and punctuation.

I’m going to teach. I’ll very much love it. I had a tiny experience teaching in college and it felt like a great blend of fun and work. There is more to literature; less in the sense of money, but it does the back scratching thing or the soul feeding thing. It gives the days their necessary depth, and there’s nothing like reading a good book and talking about it.

It is scary because one knows that it is going to be a challenge eating and coughing up the rent; especially when one is mostly interested in the academia aspect of it, and yet it is very exciting. In my next life I’ll love to be a dancer who dabbles in philosophy.