I will have no class Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
I am a PR major in downtown Los Angeles, a bubbling jacuzzi of forward-thinking media.
And I am not taking an internship.
I know, right?
Burn her at the overachieving-undergrad stake.
It’s summer, and I’m a part-time PR intern and part-time Auntie. Between those two and the jillions of projects I’ve thrust myself into this summer, I can barely breathe right now.
But I make the decision equipped with a not-so-comforting piece of reality: We have the rest of our lives to stress about cramming a job into our world (or more often, molding our world around a job). If I can still fill my days with good people, good culture and good nights-out while still calling myself a full-time student, please believe I’m going to do like a farm boy and milk it for all its worth.
This semester, I am boycotting our college culture’s addiction to internships.
I’m going to tinker with entrepreneurship, homemade personal branding, and my last months of teendom.
And for once, I’m stepping off the hamster wheel,
planting my feet firm behind my resume and saying,
“I think I’m good for now.”
On the flipside:
I think there’s much to say about the fact that, as an undergrad, I feel even the slightest bit defensive about not getting an internship; that loosening my deathgrip on getting ahead is cause for blog-cern; that I feel like a rebel for the fact that I simply want to take a friggin’ breather.
That in mentioning my semester sans-internship to other Gen-Yer’s, there’s that pause in conversation for the WTF- why portion and I feel I have to explain myself… which then begets a series of disconnected, previously-justified reasons where the endgame is always:
“..I don’t know. Whatever. (shift eyes, fidget, quarter-life crisis)”
But that’s what you and I are here for — figuring this mess OUT.