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The Mass Media

The Mass Media

The Mass Media

“The Compost Heap”

We all wish we had more time, studying, finals, work, work, work. But for those sullied few who have to perform the actual task of living with extra time, it is a heartbreaking, profusely irritating chore that many would go back to a nine to five in order to prevent.

Take my attempt at backpacking, which inevitably led me to prematurely dismiss a semester of college. I had my travel itinerary, I knew all the bus routes, timetables, event planners. I was ready. I was prepared, until orbitz.com informed me that my budget did not facilitate my plans. I would need more money. I realized how pre-emptive my actions had become; taking a semester off would allow me the necessary time to pay and further prepare my trek to the other side of the world, but how long would it take?

And this is how my travel began, but without stepping onto a plane, I was instead thrown back into my mother’s house. I was equipped, not with backpack and travel guide, but with button-down shirt and resume in hand. I became a temp. Starbucks latte in hand, I soon began a job that in only three short months would be my ticket to my ticket, and away from it all.

For the first few days at work, my tie was a perfectly perpendicular to my neck line, my shirts were ironed and my shoes polished. By two weeks in, I was lucky if I had shaved in the past days, or put on deodorant that morning. I was back home, but my friends were still away at their respective colleges, leaving me with the task of filling 7-8am and 5pm to 7am and all weekend time with whatever mediocre task I could fulfill. To pass the time my travel plans became detailed timetable and itinerary; I was planning the sights on my walking tours, deciding on my café for my morning coffee and the nightclubs I would visit. I would walk through target for hours and look at what I may need: “do I need a pillow-cover for the hostels? Well hell yes I do!”

I would put little tasks on my newly purchased “To Do” post-it notes. Five minute errands became half-hour long excursions. I was too bored to go to sleep, too bored to stay awake. This became an interesting turn of events when I began to pull all-nighters, hoping, praying that night-time would somehow bridge the gap of boredom between waiting to get to bed and waking up. Inevitably I began to fall-asleep at work. My expulsion from the workforce became imminent. I now had too much free-time, and not enough money to fill it with. I needed to get away, take a vacation, but dared not spend the money to do it.

I watched minutes become hours become days, and attempted everything from sperm-donation to yard sales in order to scrape together the money needed for the blessed ticket out of my purgatory.

Now, some two months later, having just purchased my ticket on-line, I realize I have another month and half before my scheduled departure. My attempt to find solace in another country led me to madness in this one.

My attempt was not in vain. I realized when someone says that college “is the best time of your life”, they aren’t kidding. When the classes are over and the finals are taken, and you stroll valiantly down the isle in your perfectly fitting gown to claim your degree in whatever-it-may-be, you will inevitably end up where I did so many months ago. I have entered the “real world” and am now clawing myself back into the collegiate lifestyle because even with a degree and “fulfilling job” there is still twenty four hours in a day, and no piece of rolled up parchment with your name on it will fill it all up.