3 out of the 4 members of this blog graduated with BAs in the last couple of weeks and an MA is expected to be gained by September. Hey, we're not just pretty faces! However, after 3 (or 4) years of stress and wishing you were doing anything else apart from this "stupid" degree, once you get to walk across that stage as they call your name, I'm only left with one question: Now What? The world is supposed to be our playground but some people are determined to make that playground consist of only a swingset. One of us (who shall remain nameless) was told "well done. Now it's either marriage or your masters. Whichever comes first is up to you"! Woooooooow. Talk about not being able to enjoy the moment. I personally want to do my masters next year but I was having trouble deciding what courses to think about applying for when my mother insisted an MBA was the only way to go. This is all regardless of the fact that I've never once expressed any kind of interest in business administration and my degree is in English Lit. and Linguistics! Look I wouldn't mind being rich just like the next person but I'd rather be happy and it's clear where my passion lies and an MBA is definitely not it!
Another one of our esteemed writing team was also told to get her masters as soon as possible because otherwise she would be "wasting her years". This was to a 22 year old btw. It's also important to remember that all this "advice" came from people without degrees themselves. What is it that makes it so tempting for so-called "uncles", "aunties", and the like to make you a vessel for their unfulfilled dreams? We're in an economic recession and it's depressing enough to think that you're never gonna get a job without the pressure to incur even more debt doing a degree you have no interest in. Yes I know that everybody and their mum has a degree(s) these days but damn, can we get even a few weeks to enjoy it before reality kicks in? It isn't too much to ask it it?
hahahahahaha! I went to Dubai at the beginning of June to y'kno let off some of that exam steam! And while there our wonderful hotel organised trips and excursions everyday, to the beach in the morning, and 'shopping' in the afternoons. 'Wow' we thought, 'all those famous luxury Dubai malls, you know the ones with ski slopes inside and 5 star (freezing cold) cinemas...' we couldn't wait. So Monday rolls around and instead of naming the place we would be going shopping, all we were told is " yes, its very good place, nice, discount shopping yes good place!" Hmmm, I don't know about anyone else but I was envisaging a mixture of Primark and Poundland, boy what i got was a mixture of Deptford Market, an 'English for foreign learners' class and a bin!
I'm not actually joking when we got there people from our hotel were backing away from the lurid green shopfront where we were greeted by a massive poster saying " RUB-A-DUB DUB CLEAN YOUR TOTS IN THE TUB " accompanied by a Rubberduckzilla monstrosity, weird! And it just got weirder, rows and rows of terribly-made cheap clothes next to prams next to packets of crisps, and the whole while a bearded man following you round the nighties trying to make you take a trolley.
After our initial bout of nausea and convulsions, we decided to look around and thank God we did. You know when you go to other countries you find some strange engrish emblazoned across tee-shirts etc, these were the worst i have ever seen! Once in Martinique I did see a top that said 'Music looks at me PHARD' huh? what?
Anyway, back to Nine Town (as this Oasis in the Emirate Desert was called) the tops ranged from the depressing - a top with a 20 line poem about holding your dog's paw when the time comes to put him down- to the spiritual -incomplete inaccurate lyrics from a Hillsongs song- to the retro- a beautiful piece with I ROCK RUFF AND STUFF WITH THE AFRO PUFF across it- Yes yes Lady of Rage!
Eurgh! the shop was disgusting, afterwards we were thrown into a tro-tro (van/minibus) with about 25 Iranians who found our dark skin and our English extremely funny, horrific, one of them was making a video of us! Lord have mercy!
Not a minute too soon we were returned to our hotel where we wept with shock and relief, it was over, Nine Town was over. Oh and did I forget to mention the Iranians bags were bulging with tat from Nine Town, yuck!