ALBIONOTES ... AN UPDATE
So, I received my college alumni magazine today. As per usual, I went right to the ALBIONOTES, i.e., notes on what everybody is doing, how many kids they've had, and how many times everyone has been married (not necessarily in that order).
Well, I have this to report: everyone is more successful than me ... everyone is marrying more men than me ... everyone is having more babies than me!
I've decided to write my own alumni note. It will read something like this:
"Megan, '94, has been unemployed since June of 2005 when she was unceremoniously laid off from her teaching job (a job she's been unceremoniously laid off from 4 other times). She has not yet received a new, job, but has managed two job offers, countless job rejections, one WHOPPER of a speeding ticket, many reams of paper wasted on resumes and cover letters (thus, killing a small forest), untold stamps licked (well, not really, but it sounds more pitiful), thousands of air/road miles flown/driven, piles of rejected book proposals, a romantic rejection or two, a dwindling savings account and a partridge in a pear tree. She is not married, and it does appear that most of her eggs are now shriveling into wizened shadows of their former selves. She would, however, love to hear from all her old college pals and can be reached at a cardboard box near you ... after a day of collecting pop and beer cans/bottles along the side of the road. Io Triumphe!"
It has a nice ring to it, don't you agree?
Well, I have this to report: everyone is more successful than me ... everyone is marrying more men than me ... everyone is having more babies than me!
I've decided to write my own alumni note. It will read something like this:
"Megan, '94, has been unemployed since June of 2005 when she was unceremoniously laid off from her teaching job (a job she's been unceremoniously laid off from 4 other times). She has not yet received a new, job, but has managed two job offers, countless job rejections, one WHOPPER of a speeding ticket, many reams of paper wasted on resumes and cover letters (thus, killing a small forest), untold stamps licked (well, not really, but it sounds more pitiful), thousands of air/road miles flown/driven, piles of rejected book proposals, a romantic rejection or two, a dwindling savings account and a partridge in a pear tree. She is not married, and it does appear that most of her eggs are now shriveling into wizened shadows of their former selves. She would, however, love to hear from all her old college pals and can be reached at a cardboard box near you ... after a day of collecting pop and beer cans/bottles along the side of the road. Io Triumphe!"
It has a nice ring to it, don't you agree?
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