20 Signs You’re Overqualified And Underemployed

Thought Catalog

If you think feudalism is dead, think again. Student loans have turned young adults into 21st century peasants, enslaved to the banks and institutions to whom they owe their money. For every discontented peasant out in the field, another seed for a revolution is planted.

Those fiefs may hold the fifties, but the baron is dead and the lords are next. Here’s how to tell if you are a part of the overqualified and underemployed student movement. If this list describes you, snag a scythe and join the club.

1. Your calendar is meticulously organized yet embarrassingly empty. Your “appointments” are with the dentist, the apprentice hair dresser (professional haircuts are too steep), families in need of a babysitter, and dog walking agencies.

2. You go on an exorbitant amount of coffee dates. This is mostly because coffee is cheaper than food. The opaque cup allows you to smile with…

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I’d Rather Be Crazy Than Boring

Like Kelcey, I agree with a lot of points to this post, and am proud to have a little bit of “crazy” in me, even if I personally refer to it as awesomeness.

Thought Catalog

I read Sophie Martin’s post, 22 Signs You’re a Crazy Girl, and realized that I am the girl in many of those bullets. I definitely did not see myself in all of them, but many. I really do enjoy being alone compared to with someone in many situations lately. I rather do things by myself like go for a walk or even just sit at happy hour and quietly think about things that I wouldn’t have the opportunity to do if I was with someone. Also, I’m usually always the first of my friends to go up to guys and introduce ourselves. Not even a week ago this was me, prancing over to the hottest guys in the bar and then ending up dragging one on stage with me to dance. Overall, it was one of the best nights I’ve had so far this year.

I’m not going to…

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Wedding Traditions that Seriously Stink


Nearly every girl’s life long dream is to locate her own Prince Charming. We’ve all seen Cinderella: the lovely young woman gets through her days wishing for something more, until finally she meets her handsome prince, who spends the entire night searching his kingdom for her.

Like the fairy tale says, if the shoe fits, wear it and treasure it. If it doesn’t “fit”, well then, everything’s just a disaster. The prince knew that his future bride was the only woman whose foot would fit the slipper perfectly. While the prince rode through his extensive kingdom, Cinderella never lost hope that her man would find her and whisk her away to the palace, where she’d end up living happily ever after.

Now I won’t lie- Cinderella is on my top 5 list of favorite Disney movies. But as I get older, I realize how the back story to this magical film is complete bullshit.


I mean really, who sits back and waits for love to find them? Who sits back and waits for anything that’s worth having to simply just happen for them? This isn’t the 1800’s. Who says we women still have to be the weaker sex, and sit back waiting for the day that the man realizes he’s in love with us? Why can’t we be the strong ones, and go after the things, and the people that we want?

Don’t get me wrong here, I believe that I found my handsome Prince, and I spend my nights dreaming of the day which he decides to put the glass slipper on my foot, whisking me away his own grand palace for a life of happily ever after. However, being realistic, a lot of these old ideals and traditions are nothing but old. 

I’ve been to my fair share of weddings. I’ve even encountered plenty of Bridezilla’s to make me personally question whether a lot of these traditions are even worth following.

  • The bouquet toss:
    Nothing, and I mean nothing, turns single women into a pack of ravaged beasts quite like the fight to be the one to catch the bride’s bouquet. I’ve seen women in labor and women who haven’t eaten a meal all day who are less terrifying. Besides- how many girls who succeed at fighting off those other bitches for a collection of flowers actually get married soon after? My guess: none.
  • Fishing for the garter:
    Ok. Just awkward on all levels. Watching a man stick his entire head up his bride’s dress to remove a garter with his teeth is embarrassing, but it’s also one of those moments you just can’t seem to turn away from watching. What’s worse? Having all of your friends, family members and strangers standing around watching this happen, until the groom ultimately redeems his prize, swinging it around over his head in victory while his fellow apes stand around  grunting and beating their chests in false approval.
  • Parent-child dances:
    I always feel bad for those who have mothers and fathers who weren’t able to spend this special day with their children. Perhaps they’ve passed away, or moved away, or just walked out on their child and have chosen to miss this special day in their baby’s life. Maybe the father and daughter have never gotten along. Who knows. Even more: watching a son dance with his mother just looks like a special, intimate moment, only to be altered by having to share this very moment with 200+ guests.
  •  The Maid of “Honor”:
    Women are just catty in general. It’s a huge honor in itself for a bride-to-be to ask you to be a part of her special day. Why dull her shine by being jealous over the girl she carefully selects to be her maid of honor? And even more: cut the bride a little slack on this one… in no way can it be an easy decision to choose one girlfriend over the rest to aid in planning and celebrating her big day. Just be gracious that you’ve been asked to partake in her special moment.
  • Giving the Bride Away:
    I just don’t have any appreciation for this tradition. To me it kind of objectifies women, suggesting that she’s nothing more than a prize to be won, something that needs to be given away. The only giving that should be done on a wedding day is one’s heart and vows to another human being, promising to love, cherish and take care of the other in all moments they will face together in life.

I’m sure I’ve missed some lame traditions and points in writing this, but these are just some of the many parts to a wedding that always seem to have me rolling my eyes. Perhaps it just takes being engaged to understand and appreciate the value in some of these ideas. I guess tradition is just one pair of shoes I won’t be putting in my metaphorical closet.


Confession Time

Today, I achieved the unthinkable. I resisted buying a new pair of shoes. Not only did I resist trying on a pair of Steve Madden sandals, I walked away from the display and walked upstairs to the Macy’s woman’s department to find my mother. The worst part? The shoes were on sale and cost only $19.99. 

This year for my birthday, I decided to create a new set of resolutions for myself. I believe that your birth date marks a new year for yourself. And unless you were born on January 1,  New Year’s Resolutions don’t make any sense unless they’re being made on the date written on your birth certificate and driver’s license. 

On May 19, I decided that in my 24th year I was going to work on being an overall better version of me. I’ve been really down on myself lately. And I don’t mean down on myself in the usual sense. I’ve been depressed about not having found a job in Advertising yet; about still living at home; about moving back home in general; about not living with my boyfriend of four years; about not having money in the bank; about my weight; my hair color; my appearance in general; not having girlfriends in the city of Rochester, etc. 

Well I am about to change all of that. I’ve decided to scale back on some things, and eliminate some habits all together. I’ve made the decision to stop shopping (at least for right now) until I have a sizable amount of money in the bank and can begin to pay off all of my debt without panicking and wondering where the money is going to come from. 

I’ve decided to get off of my anxiety medication and deal with life as a real, normal human being. I’ve decided to give up soda once I feel like I can function normally without my daily dosage of Paxil, and I’ve also decided to eat a lot healthier. That isn’t to say that I won’t still binge on wine and cheesecake after a rough day though. 

Finally, I’ve decided to network, network, network and keep my resume up to date. While I’m not looking to get out of my job immediately, I am still browsing the job listings. If something that sounds appealing comes up, I’m actually going to apply instead of convince myself of all the reasons why I do not qualify for this agency or news team. 

Right now, I have about $130 in the bank. While that isn’t a large amount of money, for me this is substantial. I haven’t spent my entire paycheck at the store in two weeks, and my next pay check comes Tuesday. If I really want something, I have money to pay for it. And the best part: I’m not scraping my spare change together to fill up my gas tank, or begging Andrew for a couple of dollars for a Dunkin run. 

I’m on my fifth day of being Paxil free also, and so far I’m only incredibly exhausted, and light headed occasionally. This is actually a much better switch from the time when I was on Effexor withdrawal for two weeks because my doctor wouldn’t agree to refill the medication.

I know I have a long way to go in reaching all of these goals, but I can already see some of the progress. I really cannot wait for the day that I wake up, finding all of these mistakes and set backs behind me–smiling with pride over the person I’ve become and the life that I am living. 

We’ve dated for 5 minutes, I’m totally in love with him!

Ok, Ok. I admit. I knew I was in love with Andrew probably three weeks into knowing him. I’d just gotten out of a really bad 2-year long relationship and didn’t want to be tied down to anyone. Much less be tied down to a man I knew could really hurt me, simply because he held so much of my heart. I made him wait. I jerked him around. I wouldn’t agree to be his girlfriend.

Hell, I often find myself thinking that I was smarter 5 years ago than I am today. I even made (some) smarter decisions. The college freshmen in me didn’t want to be in a relationship. She just wanted to have fun and make the very most of her 4 years of college.

Obviously those who know me know that reality played out much different than my wishes. Andrew and I are approaching our four and a half year anniversary, and when I’m not trying to come up with ways to rush his eventual proposal, I’m trying to find equally as crazy ways to get him to go along with purple bed spreads, throw pillows, cleaning out the fridge and buying some new clothes that actually fit him.

I’m totally in love with my best friend and with the idea of us creating a new life together, and finding our own happily ever after. However, I have no idea why young girls, namely 20-year-olds are so concerned with finding “the one” and being married and starting a family.

When I was 20 I was working my dream job. Well, I guess my dream internship. I had two jobs and was taking classes part time. I did spend a considerable amount of time worried about making my love with Andrew work in my favor. (That last sentence was an understatement). However I had goals and knew I was going places. Hell. What happened to that in control young woman?

I even find myself saying to girls now, that if I didn’t have the boyfriend I have today, that I wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with anyone. Why? Relationships take a ton of work. And so does reaching your goals and starting a career worth being proud of.

I look back at myself when I was 20, and I’ve been through so many things, tried out a ton of different things, and I’ve grown into a different person. Besides, in most cases guys at 20 are 200 times dumber and less reliable than guys are at 25. My relationship with Andrew had to grow and evolve into something special, he and I both had a lot of maturing to do before we could really work out and get along as well as we do.

Why focus on that aspect of things, when they will always be around? Internships, academic programs, and mentors may not. We live in a day where women are finally beginning to step out of our traditional housewife roles, something of which I could not be more proud of. I don’t think we should completely abandon the notion that if we’re a good girl and play by the rules that our prince charming will stumble along and whisk us off our feet. I think that we should simply own our power, realize our potential, and be all that we can be. With or with out a man.

Take that internship. Move to a new city. Study something, just because. Study something because it will advance your career. Put in long hours. Volunteer. Do the boring jobs. Do things, just because it will help you get noticed. Get noticed for your brains and not your boobs or bum. Don’t be afraid to dress smart and BE smart. Just like the quote says. A woman may wake up one day and find herself boyfriend-less or husband-less. But she’s never woken up, or come home, to find her career has packed its bags and decided to leave. Some things are just more important than finding love so young. At least in my mind.

Cheaper than the Hair Salon

It’s been about a year since I’ve been to see my hair dresser. And I must admit, it’s been one torturous year. Back in September I had the brilliant idea to darken my hair for the fall. I went from blonde to almost black in under 45 minutes. It didn’t take very long for me to regret my decision and long for my long blonde locks.

I’ve also begun experimenting with scissors again. Being a college graduate with little more than $100 in the bank leads you to do some pretty ballsy things. For me, I’ve decided to chop and layer my long hair in attempt to get rid of the nasty short chunk of hair that sits in front of my face. You should probably know that bangs aren’t a good look for yourself before you allow your hairdresser to tell you that they’re a good idea.


Using my time off from work to catch up on the important things, I bought a couple of bottles of blonde color and peroxide, and decided to touch my roots up. At least this time my hair turned out a bit lighter than actually getting darker. (I swear my hair and body defies science and gravity in every possible way).

My mother then decided we needed highlights in our freshly colored hair. Rather than book an appointment with my very talented, but very expensive colorist, we bought a box of bleach from the grocery store.

I sat my mom down on her vanity stool, and attempted to pull little strands of hair through those crappy plastic caps that look as if they should cover a dinner plate instead of one’s head. How difficult can this be, I thought to myself.

Boy was I wrong. Picking for boogers, prying plastic from Harry’s mouth, even retrieving my iPhone from between the center console and the driver’s side seat in my car is easier than trying to hook locks of hair and pull it through a double layer of shitty-grade plastic. There go my dreams of going to beauty school.

When I finally began getting the hang of things, it was time to stop pulling hair from microscopic perforations and apply the bleach. Bleaching hair is much easier, almost like finger painting, in a way I guess.

As soon as we finished applying my mom’s bleach, we decided to whip out the aluminum foil and use that on my thick wavy creation instead of trying our luck a second time with the cap.

I mean, if a hair dresser can make it look so easy, how hard can I be for us? Mom used to be a hairdresser up until I was born, and I’ve colored and cut my own hair thousands of times.

I mean. Really all they do is separate some sections, apply some color or bleach and then wrap it in foil, leaving it to look something like this:


Well prepare to laugh, or be traumatized. Probably the second one:


How is this going to turn out? I’m really afraid to find out. Well, I guess we’ll know if I’m bald the next time I post! Happy Sunday, everyone 🙂