Fuck Summer Internships, I Want to Be Remembered for My Art

I hate to say it, but this preprofessional environment is really starting to get to me. I sit here scrolling through LinkedIn, looking at these suckers posting their corporate internships for biotech startups and some sort of finance thingy. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here skipping the John Smith Interlude of the new Lana Del Rey album because that’s the sort of priorities I have. Should I be trying something different?

This whole summer internship game (and a game is what it is) is draining my poor, sweet body. I’ve never been very artistic, but I can be creative. I’m not going to go around painting paintings or whatever, nor will I be caught dabbling in post-modern photography. I don’t care for dancing. I don’t self-identify as a sculptor. However, I know that if there’s one thing I’ll be remembered by, it’s my art. I simply won’t have it any other way. 

I am sick and tired of building my network. I’d rather be writing a Rock Opera, set in the near distant future composed only of the ABBA songs not in Mamma Mia. Is it so wrong that I want to capitalize on some innate quality of myself? Some sort of artistry previously untapped?

I want to design a fashion line entirely crafted of post-consumer ketchup bottles. Then, use the profits to build the world’s largest guasha. Personally, I’d like to get really into macrame or papier-mâché or writing poetry in my notes app then posting them to my Instagram story. Maybe I’ll even create a separate account for them...I don’t know. 

When I sadly die many many years from now, likely donating my brain to the President or whoever’s in charge by then, I want my tombstone to read “Remembered for Her Art,” not “Completed a Summer (2023) Internship in Marketing and Communication.” I’ll be able to rest easy. 

Internships are seasonal, art is forever.