Our futures are uncertain. For two girls in grad school who aren’t particularly excited about it all, it makes it even scarier. The worst part is, we know what we want to do, we know how difficult it will be, and we know that in this generation sacrifices are currency . Sometimes its hard to explain why exactly we ended up here, and for someone who is more eloquent in writing than in speaking, verbal communication can prove to block what really wants to be said. Thank god for people like J.D. Salinger, who have already expressed why museums are so intoxicating and why its worth hoping for a chance to work there, even when it seems very bleak at times.
“The best thing, though, in that museum was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody’d move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would still be just finished catching those two fish, the birds would still be on their way south, the deers would still be drinking out of that water hole, with their pretty antlers and they’re pretty, skinny legs, and that squaw with the naked bosom would still be weaving that same blanket. Nobody’s be different. The only thing that would be different would be you. Not that you’d be so much older or anything. It wouldn’t be that, exactly. You’d just be different, that’s all. You’d have an overcoat this time. Or the kid that was your partner in line the last time had got scarlet fever and you’d have a new partner. Or you’d have a substitute taking the class, instead of Miss Aigletinger. Or you’d heard your mother and father having a terrific fight in the bathroom. Or you’d just passed by one of those puddles in the street with gasoline rainbows in them. I mean you’d be different in some way—I can’t explain what I mean. And even if I could, I’m not sure I’d feel like it.”
– J.D. Salinger, Catcher in the Rye