The post-finals existence


Wake up at 10am, stay in bed until 2pm, potter about the rest of the day, and repeat. What the hell am I doing with my life post-Finals? I have no job waiting in the wings, I don’t know what career I want to do, and I’m pretty sure I’ve become the unthinkable… A walking, talking, fiscally concerned adult.

So, the big question: what happens when we’ve finished at Oxford? I’ve been reassured by countless ‘proper’ adults that I’ll fall into my perfect career and life will slot into place. Well, Oxford is a place jam-packed with people allergic to complacency and it’s a little scary that after years of working towards educational and personal goals that in the end, maybe we’ll just have to rely on fate and fortune. What I am certain of, is that I can now explain the significance of fate and fortune in reference to English literature: I’ve written essays on how the two have fucked over the likes of Troilus and Criseyde (English-Finalists may argue that the two fucked us over too) and countless other literary characters. But at the end of the day, I’m not entirely sure that anyone outside of the infamous Oxford Bubble will really care about my opinion on literature.

Its odd that now I feel like I really get what my degree was really on about that, I’m about to be shoved out of the nest and made to stand on my own two feet. I can’t wait to move home and regress to my pre-university life! Hand on the door latch, I slowly open the front door ready to drink my cares away – only to hear my mother’s voice travel down the corridor, ‘Maisah, where are you off to? Any idea what time you’ll be back?’ Mother, I love you, but I’m totally an adult now. I’m an independent grown-up – oh wait, no, I’m going to end up living at home and because the job market is pretty shoddy these days, I’m already flirting with the idea of signing on for Job Seeker’s Allowance.

I mean, I could have saved myself all this pain and suffering by realising that there was a life beyond university: this place was not the be-all and end-all of existence. Having finished Finals nearly two weeks ago life has felt a little odd, essentially I’m just unemployed in a rather fabulous and picturesque setting. No longer understanding what sociability is anymore, I now have to relearn basic social skills: the library is not my primary home/ social hub/ life anymore and whispering in real life isn’t really acceptable – you either end up looking like a Mean Girls try-hard bitch or (more likely) a shy wall flower oddity.

Oxford has been a cruel mistress: I have loved and loathed my time here as I assume anyone that reads this article will agree. I mean, I’m an independent adult and I can type pretty fast these days, but I’m not entirely sure what’s next. Maybe I will go and collect my alumni card (and admit the end is nigh), maybe I will try and find an internship, maybe I’ll go and network off my ass these last couple of weeks. More likely, I’ll get back to my pseud contemplation of life and existence and ponder what’s next in the rather boring history of me.

P.s. Don’t google “Post-Finals depression” – as to be expected, the results are pretty depressing.

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