I've spent much of my youth searching for the meaning of life. Even though I've learned it's "fuck bitches, get money (repeat, one would presume)," I refused to accept the idea that all we ever will become is the sum of our choices and the legacy we leave.
What about the choices we don't make, and the legacy we could have left?
Don't feed me some "carpe diem" bullshit, and I swear, if you try to respond with "what's meant to be will find a way," I will respond with a roundhouse kick to your jaw.
I think that the majority of society encourages that the school-college-marriage-family (with a career thrown in) prototype be followed. I think this is because most people crave security. I think most people find comfort in challenges that have a definite reward. It's no surprise; there's a reason there are more people who decide to enter the business field than to pursue careers as freelance photographers. People like the idea of a salary, of a stable living situation.
But what about people who don't? How long does it take to realize that maybe, just maybe, you're not cut out to fit into the mold you've been trying so hard to fit into?
I know, this is some pretty cutting edge stuff, right? A 22 year old college dropout bartender who is contemplating her future. Hold on tight, I don't want to throw a curve ball at you with this new and revolutionary material.
In the midst of my most recent midlife crisis (I use this term lightly. I think it's a little arrogant and presumptuous to assume that 45 or so is the appropriate age for mid-life to occur at. How do I know when my life will end, and who am I to arbitrarily assign an age to it's halfway point? Thus, I've been having midlife crisis' since I was 13. I figure if I make it to 26, I can keep having them and increase my chances of making it to 52. If not, can't say I didn't try), I suddenly realized I've been living a huge fucking lie.
I generally was a high-achiever in life, in most categories: school, sports, etc. I've always been able to set goals and attain them, because I have an awesome work ethic. If something sparks my interest, I can guarantee I will work for it. I used to have such a spark and such drive to accomplish my goals. Once I went to college, that quickly fizzled. Most people figured it was the massive quantities of booze I consumed on a daily basis. Some blamed it on the cocaine. While I refused to let a substance take the blame for my motivational demise, I opted for the ultimate cop out - my general response when people inquired about my lack of scholastic success was that I "had no idea what I wanted to do with my life" and that I was "taking time to figure it out."
Okay, confession. I do know. But before we get there -
The term "suffering artist" irritates me. I feel there's a negative connotation that comes along with it, one that conjures the image of an under-fed, over-pretentious person dressed in tattered clothes who spends hours upon hours without human contact for the preservation of their craft. Truth be told, I think the real suffering artists are the people who hide what drives them, what moves them, what they're passionate about. I think the people who truly suffer are the ones who opt for the safer, more widely accepted versions of themselves and their created lives while they perfect the art of acting as if everything is fine. I think there's nothing worse than having to look back on your life and wish you had done it all differently.
That being said, at the young and completely oblivious age of 18, I pledged to get a degree and get a real job at some point in my life. Maybe in teaching (wait, I fucking hate children). Maybe in business? Sales, perhaps? I have been trudging along, trying to find my niche, hoping I can find a field I love and one that will appear to be grown up and mature. I was only kidding myself. The only reason I haven't finished school is because I don't want to, deep down. There has been something holding me back, and that's the knowledge that regardless of how much money I make be able to make at some PR job, I'll never be happy.
I really have two goals in life: to become a recluse and to be happy. I'm not talking about the circumstantial, fleeting moment of contentment. I want to be genuinely and wholly satisfied. I don't to have to keep moving around, searching for my missing piece.
That being said- Fuck you guys, I'm writing a book.
