I’ve been getting a fair share of critical comments and emails for appearing overprivileged and “jet-setting” all over Europe, which would actually not bother me so much if it weren’t for the fact that neither is true. Contrary to claims made by commenters on my blog, I don’t come from a wealthy family (which is why I qualify for HFAI) so Harvard is pretty much my only claim to privilege. As far as claims go, I have to admit that I’ve got it pretty good, but simply going to an Ivy League school doesn’t make the rest of your life. It’s not like I showed up to Harvard and suddenly, I was given the trust fund I’d always wanted. Before this year, I worked during every summer since age 15 and during every academic term since college began. But after my last job ended in December, I vowed to concentrate more on my writing, so I decided to ditch paid-by-the-hour internships in favor of freelance work and personal projects. I completed my most recent assignment a week and a half ago, in the days between my London and Spain trips. Sure, I’m awfully lucky that I get to run around Europe, but writing remains a huge component of my life and I’m pretty much always working on columns or my manuscript here.

And though this is beside the point, I think I’ve made it fairly obvious that the majority of my time here thus far has been spent in an un-air-conditioned dorm room with my sometimes-suicidal best friend. Her roommates are probably wondering when the hell I’m going to leave. It’s not like I’m rocking out in lavish hotels. I’m essentially a squatter in student housing, not the Marie Antoinette these online snarks are looking to stone. I mean, when I was hungry today, I had to go into the kitchen to steal someone else’s cake and eat it. Seriously.

Anyway, I’m writing this somewhat defensive entry because I find it irritating that there’s a stereotype of Harvard kids as being spoiled brats who have had everything handed to them in life. Certainly, this holds true for a portion of the population, but on the whole, the students here are probably some of the hardest workers I’ve ever seen, and there are plenty of them who aren’t working for money but rather for causes and beliefs that don’t even benefit them. Occasional pretension aside, my peers deserve a lot of credit for that. Of course, plenty of us — even someone like me whose annual family income qualified her for free school lunches back in the day — have had inherent advantages, be they particularly supportive parents or the necessary college prep classes. Still, those advantages shouldn’t discredit the many things we have earned for ourselves. In my case, I think this summer of travel has been well-earned, given the fact that it’s the first leisurely summer I’ve had since … just about ever.

Unlike comments about my sexual history, I take criticism about perceived privilege and exorbitant spending (of other people’s money) very personally. I consider “brat” far more insulting than “slut”, because though I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with sexual appetite, I do think that ignorant wastefulness and entitlement are major character flaws. Besides, the truth is that I do feel bad about not working this summer. I put myself through enough guilt without needing commenters to remind me about it. And this guilt is definitely an irrational manifestation of the capitalistic, work-a-holic system in which I grew up. Why do Americans feel so bad about taking a vacation!

This autumn, it’ll be back to work for me … and it’ll be much more work than usual too. I’m taking the year off from Harvard, and I’ll be the Boston area, close to friends and lover (note: that was singular, not plural). I’m looking for a part-time gig to balance out my freelancing. Having my own hours as a writer is fantastic but at my age, at least, it’s no way to pay the bills on the regular. So ideally, I’d like to be working at a non-profit that deals with women’s issues, LGBT advocacy, or disadvantaged youth. Come September, I’ll be more than ready for real life and the comfort of work. I wouldn’t trade this summer for anything, but I wouldn’t extend it either. Besides, when traveling becomes a full-time occupation, it ceases to be a vacation.

Check out a new blog from The New York Times written by eight college seniors who are “[facing] the future.”

The first entry posted is by Dartmouth’s Alice Mathias (also a columnist for The Dartmouth), who writes quite insightfully on her theory why Ivy-educated kids feel so much pressure to go corporate. Here’s an excerpt:

When we were kids, my friends and I played a game called MASH. This game forecast whether we would grow up to live in Mansions, Apartments, Shacks, or Houses, what our jobs would be, where in the world we would live, which of our celebrity crushes we would marry, and most importantly, what kind of pet we would have…

Back in our MASH days, our dream jobs were firefighting, I-banking, sales and trading, consulting, wealth management, mergers and acquisitions, and real estate finance … O.K., fine –– no one actually knew what “I-banking” meant when we were kids. We still don’t understand the specifics, but roughly translated it means: “getting rich.” Whatever it is, a stunning percentage of my generation’s most promising brainiacs are doing it. They could be curing diseases or discovering alternative energy sources or living at their parents’ houses, but instead, they are making millions for the Man over at the bank-tank.

I respect my many bank-bent peers who feel the need to make a lot of money for one glaringly freaky reason … Hurricane Katrina and the war in Iraq have underscored the notion that money is the common citizen’s only viable safety net. It doesn’t take an econ major to recognize basic applications of supply and demand. When helicopter rides out of danger zones become limited, they go to the rich. When the American Army finds itself with limited resources, it goes to the poor. If my classmates and I are going to live forever, we can expect to face many natural and man-made disasters. If these problems are not somehow avoided, it seems they will be escaped only by those who can afford a one-way ticket to that castle on the moon.

Mathias explains that young adults nowadays are turned off from politics because our generation has only seen leadership in the model of the Bushes and the Clintons. As graduation nears, public service is eschewed and “all the smartest kids in the room have instead elected to go Mr. Moneybags à la Monopoly.”

Thankfully, though, there are those who have managed to “[sneak] through the corporate cracks” and Mathias closes by saying that there’s certainly hope for a political revolution among the seemingly young and jaded. I’m just happy that there’s someone out there who’s talented, perceptive, and fully aware that we all deserve much better than a cubicle.

“Kermit” commented in my last entry:

I highly doubt that freelancing will allow you to write what you want because you still have to cater to the requests of your publisher. So it’s whoring no matter which way you go. With the other option, at least you have the luxury of choice to pick the second option at some time in the future (or become the Man rather just work for him).

My response:

Unless you’re the CEO, you have to cater to the requests of superiors no matter which occupation you choose. The same goes for freelance writing, but hey, at least I’m not busting my ass 70 hours a week at a job I hate (I’m not generalizing either, 90% of people I know in financial services loathe the lifestyle). Writing, with complete editorial control or not, is still more satisfying to me than crunching numbers. As for an income that offers “the luxury of choice” in the future, I say fuck that. By the time you get out of your two-year contract, finish business school, and pay back those loans, you’re pushing 30 and ready for the next great financial strain: marriage and kids. Sure, it’s easy to say that you can do what you really love in a few years, but the reality is that it’s now or never. And I’m not exactly known for my patience.

Besides, who says writers can’t enjoy comfortable lifestyles while honing their craft? The only gig cushier than working for the Man is fucking the Man and getting all the benefits of a six-figure job without actually, you know, doing the job. After all, great artists have always had their patrons.

Love,

Lit Whore With Better Hours Than Yours

Funny fact: I’ve landed on the LGBT email list for practically every top investment bank and consulting firm.

I have to say from personal experience that queer networking events are about 20 times more fun and bearable than the general info sessions that feel like meatmarkets for Ivy League whores and their corporate johns. Even months after deciding to take the literary route, I’m still tempted to attend the events diversity recruiters invite me to. Their email notifications (recipient list suppressed, of course) conjure up images of intimate, not mass, gatherings where people are calm, collected, and fuck, even friendly.

Maybe it’s because the focus isn’t on the work at hand, but rather on the lifestyle and culture of the company. In that respect, the burden is on the employers, not the recruits, to sell themselves. So instead of on-the-spot job interviews, people engage in actual conversation. You know, like civilized folks. You probably won’t find too many of those at typical recruiting events which are almost always noisy, overcrowded pressure cookers where people go to develop inferiority complexes.

But regardless, both low-stress and high-stress recruiting lead to the same career. Gay or straight, these kids are still all working for the Man and damn do their souls go for a lot on auction. My peers’ six-figure salaries will beat my 20-grand-and-food-stamps freelance writing gameplan any day. And what do I have to show for it? Just a resume in which the word “sex” appears no less than five times and the word “quantitative” is permanently banned. Unless you’re offering me a corner office, I wouldn’t trade this for the world.

Remember that spontaneous trip to New York I took for President’s Day weekend last month? I just got my credit card bill and it’s starting to hurt.

Besides the $145 phone bill (which I have no excuse for considering domestic calling), I dropped some major change on travel (try two pairs of plane tickets and five bus tickets). I don’t even want to examine my Restaurant Week damage. Two meals at OM and dinner at 33 were $100+ in one week alone. Plus, I’ve been grabbing Thai and sushi all the time. Definitely no more meals out in Cambridge.

Thank god for the money I’ve been making on freelance assignments. If I can get my ass in gear, I’ll be earning about $800/month, which combined with allowance, will barely pay rent in New York this summer.

Then again, I’m living with someone who’s about as low-maintenance as a BMW. This girl says she’s “cool with anything.” As long as we don’t live in Brooklyn. Or on a lower floor. Or share bedrooms. Or pet-sit.

Right.

If we’re going to make our two-bedroom arrangement work on an intern’s budget, we’re either living in Brooklyn or I’m going to have to sell my panties.

Buyers?