Well, hot diggity!

It’s good news, folks, good news! If you’ve been feeling a bit directionless, or just a smidge aimless, don’t worry: I’m here to help. You can trust me; I’m qualified. See, the word is out, and apparently, I’m a Master. Well, almost. On condition of some small changes and alterations, my thesis has been passed. Hurrah! Master H.O.T., not bad, eh?

Although I can’t help thinking that, combined with the funny hat, this title isn’t quite as snazzy as I’d like it to be. Now, you know I’ll always fight in the femullet corner, but I think this is one of those times where non-gender-specification has really been a bit of a downer. Wouldn’t it be more fun to be a Mistress of the Arts and Humanities? It’s certainly less starchy-British public school, less gay-little-hobbits, and more kind of delectably-dominatrixy and a wee bit fun (and that’s wee as in ‘small’, you sick, sad, people). They could create a whole new graduation ensemble that would make the hours of sitting in the grand hall waiting for your moment infinitely more interesting. On the other hand, however, the Humanities already gets such a whipping in public, it probably doesn’t need to shell out for it in private too.

Yet truly, I am very excited about this. As with every extended project, it was a long, occasionally gruelling affair, and it’s nice to know that I’ve acquitted myself with relative grace and that my marks are good (and yes, in case you hadn’t already realised, I am one of those grade me! grade me! types. A scratch-and-sniff sticker can still make me swoon). Despite this, however, I’ve currently put myself in the ‘time out’ corner, academia-wise; I was completely burnt by the time the MA was submitted, so am now going to take a little time to explore a world that doesn’t revolve entirely around the reference section.

In line with this, and as my time in Belgium is rapidly winding to a close, I have begun applying for jobs. I have no illusions regarding my prospects, and I know I’m heading for entry-level territory; the kind of job where you look at your first pay cheque, add up how many years you’ve been at university, times that by your HECS debt, gurgle a little, and then wish like Christ that you’d become a tradie. Last time I tried to do this, i.e. actually looking for careerish type work, I spent a couple of months on the dole before dealing with it in the typical Aussie fashion and going backpacking for six months. However, I still recall my favourite job ad that I have seen reposted again and again in the last four years.

It was an ed assist position at a publishing house of what I would consider to be not-very-interesting-books. After detailing a multitude of achingly boring office tasks for extortionately low pay, it closed so: *MUST HAVE A POSITIVE ATTITUDE TO DATA ENTRY*. Naturally, at this I laughed. A lot. What are they thinking? No one has a positive attitude to data entry. It’s data entry. I mean, I think I’m a moderately optimistic kind of person, but the idea of spending my life entering ISBNs for books that no-one will read leaves me feeling about as perky as Tori Spelling’s left boob.

I’ve seen it re-advertised on and off since then, and always in exactly the same way. Clearly there’s a lack of well-trained lobotomees around, and perhaps every other applicant has only had the good sense to feel sunny about such employ for the split second before they shoved two pencils up their nostrils and banged their face down on the desk.

It’s always good to have something to aim for, however, and I’m sure it’ll be re-advertised in 3 months or so when I get home. Perhaps if times are truly dire, I can apply for it myself.

I’ll just make sure I pack a good sharpener.