“But I ain’t gonna argue with you no more.”

Firstly, I would like to inform you that the general miserable nature of said post isn’t something that is going to last around here. Tomorrow I’ll be back with dinosaurs and turtles. Today is a bit different though. So sorry about that.

I write to you today with a great deal of dread and disappointment. Readers of mine may recall my recent struggles with preparing myself for admissions into graduate school. Or, should I say, the “graduate admissions process” rather. It’s a rocky road and these past many months have been just as rocky. I took the GRE that said schools beg you to take when you apply, and bombed it worse than Hiroshima.

But I applied for all of these graduate programs, in English, Film Studies (which is basically for film journalism), and actual Journalism. I thought these would be good stepping stones for my continued educational success, as I have 4 years of writing experience with Film Threat, some freelance work with the Orlando Weekly (and other publications), and the fact that I have enough festival experience to drown a space shuttle. All of this worthless, unfortunate, miserable, and basically pay-less experience resides on the lonely pages of my resume. It’s like a document of pointlessness.

People tell you your whole life that “working hard, pays off.” I want to find out who invented that slogan and slit their throat, kill their unborn babies, and stomp on their eyeballs. “Wait dude, why so bitter at your age?” My friend Frank co-runs a website dedicated to a new phenomenon called the ‘quarter life crisis’. It’s like a midlife crisis for we fine young adults, in our mid-20s, searching for a purpose. You can check it out here.

I’m mere inches away from turning 27. I know, that shit isn’t old at all. It’s still quite young actually, to some. But I am going balder than my 86 year-old grandfather, I have no set career path, debt up to my balls (like most people I guess), no real skills worth anything outside of poverty wages, and now, I’ve been denied admissions into more than half of the programs I’ve applied to so far, including the one I wanted to get into most. “Dude, you’re so young. Calm down. Something will come.” Shut the fuck up you.

I don’t give a fuck about age. Age isn’t paying the bills, is it? Age isn’t really bringing me anything, now is it? Is there a point for me to write another word in my life? Sure, I love it – especially the words here – but everything I write outside of here is basically worthless. No one gives a shit about film criticism anymore. And if they did, my words aren’t worthy of a paycheck.

“Doing what you’re passionate about is all that matters.” Fuck that philosophy too. Passion doesn’t write a rent check these days. At least in my world anyway. But this isn’t me being negative or anything like that. So don’t think I’m looking for pity. Instead, think of this as a way to describe the picture I accidentally drew today.


Raindrops Keep Falling on my Head (3/2008)

Author: bronsonfive

Film, movies, whatever.

10 thoughts on ““But I ain’t gonna argue with you no more.””

  1. Well, you can take solace in one thing at least: Your feelings are hardly unique. I can remember waking up on my 25th birthday and being disgusted by the realization that my horrible, pointless life was not even half over. Now, at age 43, I wake up EVERY day and reassure myself that it most probably is.

    So you see? Life does get “better”!

  2. About to turn 27, in 2 months I’ll hit 28. Granted I’ve been working at the same job for 7 going on 8 years I took a path outside of film and found a saving grace in television, mainly because it was safe and provided a steady paycheck but I busted my balls for 3 yrs straight being part time at 4 stations it sucked but it eventually payed off, as for your quarter-life crisis, I’ve read your reviews and enjoyed them, I’ve read your other writings let’s not forget your red-hooded sweatshirt, yeah maybe it was goofy but your writing talent goes beyond film and television reviews and I know with your graduate studies you want to pursue that has got to be further evolvement of your writing style. I can only hope you can get what you want and i’m not gonna blow sunshine up your ass and say everything will be ok, but maybe somewhere else other than florida could be the answer and anything you may need help wise or not let me know. Mike your better than you ever think you can be.

  3. Umm, yeah. Me + You = same story. I keep imagining someone will pay me for “doing what I’m passionate about,” which translates into writing, taking Advil, or watching tiVo. I got nada. Nada.

  4. This is exactly what we talked about today. Look up Resignation, Cynacism, and Bitter in the dictionary. When you are coming from any of these three places (which, 80% of the time, we are) you will always find 1. Agreement from other people that “things are just this way” and 2. Reasons to keep thinking of it that way “it will never change”.

    Yeah, okay you already know what wanting to give up looks like. That’s ordinary.
    So now what?

  5. That is horse-shit-butt-fuck crappy….and like Saimfeld said, now what?

    I mean I’m not gonna paint a rosy picture for you, but I hope you get pleasantly surprised nonetheless…just don’t become a self-fullfilling prophecy, if you can help it!

    And I know, I know, you might want to draw a picture of you punching me right now (LOL), but I have idealistic blood in my body, what can I say? ;-)

  6. Steve: Yeah, I can’t wait for that. I just don’t want to be in the same seat when I am 40. And right now, it looks that way.

    David: I don’t recall a story about a red-hooded sweatshirt.

    Abarclay: Start a back door abortion business. Like me. Helps those little bills that trickle in during the month.

    Saimfeld: Now I must continue onward. Fight pirates, punch babies, and save turtles. What else can I do?

    Romi: “That is horse-shit-butt-fuck crappy”… That’s the best visual I’ve ever seen in my mind. Delicious.

  7. i guess telling you that you make us chuckle, laugh and smile does nothing for you – maybe you can paint a picture of the smiling people

  8. Jenn: Making people smile would benefit me if royalty checks came in the mail.

    Pugs: Coward from what?

    Steve: Yeah, but my status will never reach that high. I’m just another know-it-all who voices his opinions on the internet.

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