Brother, Can You Spare an Irsh?
So, 3.5 degrees and let's not talk about how much debt later, here I am, unemployed in Cairo. I launched into the job search with gusto last week, remembering very quickly that the middle of summer, particularly in a city where the average highs are around 102 by mid-June, is a less than ideal time to start pestering people about anything that doesn't have to do with escaping to the North Coast for the weekend.
I've been trying to keep my perspective on things, however, and have been telling myself that this is a great time to do all the stuff that I won't have time for when I do (hopefully, someday, probably too soon) get a job: beefing up the Arabic vocab, studying some Korean, reading books on the history of the CIA - ok, I realize all of that doesn't exactly sound fun, but I'm enjoying it when I can keep my mind off my rampants fears of never finding a real, respectable, salaried job before I'm dead.
I've been trying to keep my perspective on things, however, and have been telling myself that this is a great time to do all the stuff that I won't have time for when I do (hopefully, someday, probably too soon) get a job: beefing up the Arabic vocab, studying some Korean, reading books on the history of the CIA - ok, I realize all of that doesn't exactly sound fun, but I'm enjoying it when I can keep my mind off my rampants fears of never finding a real, respectable, salaried job before I'm dead.
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