But I Don't Even Like Peas

I've been thinking about the future recently.

As I believe I've said before, I'll have one year left at that miserable festering pit of mediocrity which is my alma mater. A year of long commutes, probably working as an office monkey (Christ, I hope I get work as an office monkey) inputting ten thousand reciepts or something, slogging through deadening classes and pulling out what few gray strands of hair remain to me as I go through the process of applying to grad schools.
Hopefully, that stint back in suburban purgatory will pay off with admittance to grad school somewhere in the UK. Preferably London, obviously. The London School of Economics is clearly the top choice here, but they only let in about 10% of applicants for the program I want, so backup plans are in order. I never thought I'd find myself in a position to seriously begin considering applying to Oxford and Cambridge, but since the LSE is pretty much the best on the planet, as long as I'm shooting for the moon, I might as well be thorough about it.
But really, the goal is to live and study in London. Seriously thinking about this has led me to the following conclusions:
1. There is apparently some sport in which grown men run about dressed in gaudy costumes, attempting to kick a ball at one another. Perhaps I should be aware of this outlandish custom?
2. By law, all food in the UK (up to and including ice cream) seems to be served with peas. I will need to come to terms with this.
3. Jesus Cartwheeling Christ, everything in London is expensive. How do I afford a place to live? What are my odds for finding a job? How much debt am I going to end up with? Will I even be able to afford peas?

Now, I find wrapping my head around a master's degree to be daunting enough--I'm not even going to begin considering a Ph.D. at this point. Cross that bridge when I come to it.
However, there is always The Career Question to worry about. And I think I've just about settled on a backup plan, should a more lucrative Europe-based job not pan out: the Foreign Service.
Now, most of you are aware I've kicked this idea around before and mainly discarded it. The idea of having to carry out policy decisions I disagree with or think are stupid would drive me crazy. I wouldn't want to work to further the aims of the US Government, surrounded by neocons, having had to publicly pledge to support every policy of whatever administration happens to be cheerfully raping the world at the time.
These are legitimate concerns. However, I have also come to realize that all jobs involve carrying out decisions I disagree with or think are stupid. There will be mindless neocon drones in pretty much every field--and actually, all of the blogs of Foreign Service officers which I've read have made a point (either of pride or complaint) that being an avid Republican in the Foreign Service can be damaging to your career, even in a Republican administration. Yes, devoting my life to expanding and protecting the interests of the United States would bother me, but you know...at least it's some sort of service to something greater. And at least it passes most of the Kennedy test: full use of my abilities along lines of (almost) excellence.
Look at the plus sides. Lots and lots of travel, significant time spent abroad. Living and working with people who (hopefully) are intelligent, well-educated, and extremely good at what they do. Learning several languages. As careers go, it's not a bad one. You remember that post with the three options a few months ago? This is the best possible version of Option Two.

Course, it'll be a long time before I'm even close to start really getting ready to apply, and even then, the process takes about a year. This is just a vague backup plan, but the more I objectively consider it, the more attractive it starts to seem.

That's about all I've got for now. I keep meaning to write something about how silly the Swedes are in grocery stores, but....eh. I'll get around to it.