Snapshots from a Post-Grad American Au Pair.

Ask me anything

Collision.
(at the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, Berlin)
February, 2014.
__
Photo by
burghbierandbeyond.

(I found it difficult to shake the unease caused by the peals of children’s laughter echoing through the Holocaust Memorial; vibrance almost sacrilegiously at odds with solemnity. I look at this photo and feel the same way.)

Collision.(at the Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe, Berlin)February, 2014.__Photo by burghbierandbeyond.(I found it difficult to shake the unease caused by the peals of children’s laughter echoing through the Holocaust Memorial; vibrance almost sacrilegiously at odds with solemnity. I look at this photo and feel the same way.)

Contrast.
Potsdam, Germany.
January, 2014.

by 
burghbierandbeyond.


I’ve got a case of the Mean Reds. Maybe it’s just that it’s January, a month which seemingly brings out the worst in people with its post-holiday gloom, arctic temperatures and near total lack of sunshine. However, as a wise friend pointed out, we’ve now been out of college for nearly eight months, so these feelings of loneliness, inadequacy and nostalgia are not entirely unsurprising; my generation entered the work force (or, rather, ongoing quest for employment) only to learn that all of the “hard” stuff of our adolescence—72-hour-sleepless-work-binges, overpacked schedules, the rigor of a liberal arts education—did not entirely prepare us for real-world challenges. Furthermore, as our formal education slinks deeper into the past, we become increasingly confronted with the hollow, ultimately problematic nature of being raised as a generation of “special snowflakes,” encouraged to pursue our passions with an inattentive eye towards the reality of post-grad economic competition. 

Lest you think I am absolutely wallowing in cynicism, there’s another side to these feelings. While the lows seem deeper than usual, there is also unfettered joy in the highs—the ecstatic sensation of shattering the monotony of the past twenty two years, eyes wide open to the absolute magnitude of this world’s possibilities and opportunities. The feeling of experiencing or learning something really, truly new for what feels the like first time in a very long time.

I’m playing devil’s advocate with myself as I write this—I know that both my pessimism and optimism are the vestiges of a privileged outlook—and I truly don’t wish to presume a la Hannah Horvath that this is how everyone my age feels. That being said, I am willing to hazard a guess that I am not entirely alone in feeling this way, and—hopefully—by getting all of this off my chest, someone else will find solace in good old-fashioned commiseration.

And if not, I hope you enjoy this photo.

Contrast.Potsdam, Germany.January, 2014.by burghbierandbeyond.
I’ve got a case of the Mean Reds. Maybe it’s just that it’s January, a month which seemingly brings out the worst in people with its post-holiday gloom, arctic temperatures and near total lack of sunshine. However, as a wise friend pointed out, we’ve now been out of college for nearly eight months, so these feelings of loneliness, inadequacy and nostalgia are not entirely unsurprising; my generation entered the work force (or, rather, ongoing quest for employment) only to learn that all of the “hard” stuff of our adolescence—72-hour-sleepless-work-binges, overpacked schedules, the rigor of a liberal arts education—did not entirely prepare us for real-world challenges. Furthermore, as our formal education slinks deeper into the past, we become increasingly confronted with the hollow, ultimately problematic nature of being raised as a generation of “special snowflakes,” encouraged to pursue our passions with an inattentive eye towards the reality of post-grad economic competition. Lest you think I am absolutely wallowing in cynicism, there’s another side to these feelings. While the lows seem deeper than usual, there is also unfettered joy in the highs—the ecstatic sensation of shattering the monotony of the past twenty two years, eyes wide open to the absolute magnitude of this world’s possibilities and opportunities. The feeling of experiencing or learning something really, truly new for what feels the like first time in a very long time. I’m playing devil’s advocate with myself as I write this—I know that both my pessimism and optimism are the vestiges of a privileged outlook—and I truly don’t wish to presume a la Hannah Horvath that this is how everyone my age feels. That being said, I am willing to hazard a guess that I am not entirely alone in feeling this way, and—hopefully—by getting all of this off my chest, someone else will find solace in good old-fashioned commiseration.And if not, I hope you enjoy this photo.