Well, here I am, starting sentences with “Well,” and flooding them with commas.
I don’t even know how to continue that paragraph. Honestly, I need a purpose. After two years of business school, one incredibly wasted year of cultural studies, and three years of English literature, I am finally finishing one long chapter of moving from things to things, and starting another chapter of God-knows-what. After I have finished writing my last essay (on the representation of city life in Madame Bovary, L’Éducation sentimentale, and Bouvard et Pécuchet), I will be officially done.
What’s next? (Didn’t I just answer that question already?) I don’t know. One thing I could always count on was my own determination not to prolong my education after the sixth year. A year ago, I would’ve been fine moving on; there would have been nothing keeping me from running as far away from university as I could. And then my thesis supervisor came along, and told me that it would be a damn shame if I did. Truthfully, I don’t mind essaying; I had fun writing my thesis, and not a single word was put onto paper with hesitation, frustration, or from a state of mind that hated writing about Flaubert’s Parrot. I am not saying it was the easiest academic thing I have ever written, but it is definitely in the top five. So why would I run away from an academic career, if I don’t mind?
Taking into account that the Dutch government is beating culture to death right now, the fact that my desired destination Ireland is still in an economic crisis, and that English-speaking theatre is not exactly big in the Netherlands, following the academic path, at least for now, is actually the most sane thing to do.
And there’s your problem. I don’t necessarily do sane things, or opt for them. I do often tend to fall back on them, though; which is probably what is going to happen here. I have until mid August to decide whether or not I’m going back to university, so before that, I need to find something else to distract me.
My plans to set-up an English-speaking theatre festival in Amsterdam are seriously being undermined by the government right now, so I guess that’s not an option anymore. I have been looking at theatre companies, but none really interest me, to be honest. A mixture of what-the-hell-kind-of-plays-are-you-putting-on, odd company names (I’m a picky person), the Dutch language, and my resistance to settling for anything substandard. I won’t settle for anything substandard in my personal life, so why would I in my professional life? I haven’t heard back yet from the American talent agency reading my latest play, so that’s not on my list of potential distractions just yet. There’s an internship I was interested in at Penguin Books, which I could still go for, but it’s not really a long-term solution, now is it?
None of the projects at Martian Prince are really working out, right now. After three years, I’m still working on the magazine; the theatrical rights publishing business needs more work, business-wise; I may have hit something with my literary videos project, but still “may;” and the festival, well, I just talked about the festival, keep up.
And that’s where I am at right now. Foolishly not settling for the mediocre, but absolutely failing at finding something concrete to keep me away from De Boelelaan 1105. God, I wish it were opening night again.