Archives for posts with tag: friends

Good God, I am tired.

And at 21 years old, I’d seriously never thought I’d be so tired. Tired of what, you say? Tired of people making you feel odd for turning a pale-like color when they ask you the infamous question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Well, first of all, THAT IS THE WORST FUCKING QUESTION.

I am not even in the slightest bit grown-up. Like, if I died tomorrow and the 10 o’clock news mentioned my age, every person in the world would be like, “How awful. She was just a kid.” Even when 30-somethings die, my parents are always like, “That’s sad. He/she was just a kid.” Because, essentially, I still feel like I am a child. Not like an infant who is still trying to grab mom’s boob, but like a kid who is just unaware of everything this life has to offer. And externally, I do not act like a child. I understand the importance of always carrying yourself very professionally, and I’ve been told many times that I am very mature for my age. However, internally, I feel like a 14-year-old girl forced to wear heels to her first formal event and stumbling so embarrassingly with everyone telling her that she needs to learn how to walk properly.

The other day, I sought an old acquaintance’s help on getting in contact with internship positions that she’s had previously and hoping to get in contact with them to secure something for the upcoming fall semester. I sent her a very informal message (Hey, girl!), attached my resume (Please skip over the fact that my GPA hasn’t been updated in two years) and asked her to get back to me when she could because she’s currently living out her dream; traveling and getting paid for it. (You go, Glen Coco) However, because she’s someone who is constantly advocating the “follow your passion” tagline, she asked me a series of questions before giving me any concrete answers as to who she’d put me in touch with.

First question: What kind of position were you looking for?

(Doggy, Missionary, Woman-on-top) I DON’T KNOW. I kind of just froze. I’m majoring in marketing, so I gave her a list of some sub-fields in marketing like branding, social media, advertising, community management, etc. (Phew, dodged that bullet.)

NOPE.

Second question: What’s your dream job?

(Holy shit, holy shit. Why are you the job devil?) I kind of lol-ed when she asked me that, and then silently cried inside. I swear, when people ask me that, it changes every time and every single time, the answers become more and more absurd. A few years ago, when I entered my freshman year of college, it was like, “I want to become a marketing executive.” It was simple, clean and to the point. I had no idea what the hell that title encompassed, but it sounded pretty legit and I supported it for a few years. Now, entering my senior year of college, the answer is like, “Hmm, some shit where I get to write, and do social media, and throw in some marketing and some saving diseased children and I’M GOOD.” And then afterward, when people are like WTF, I kind of just wriggle my arms in the air saying, “I don’t know, HAHA” repeatedly until they walk away. My point is, I have no idea.

My dream jobs are usually influenced by life events. When I saw animals being mistreated while watching Animal Cops on Animal Planet, I was so convinced I wanted to be Annemarie Lucas. I then became so involved in the recent Obama campaign (aka, bashing Mitt Romney via Twitter and sending shout-outs to Obama for Obamacare) that I thought I wanted to become some type of politician or field member for the Obama administration. My aspirations change every day and although that may seem cool, it is extremely frustrating and it sucks to have people look down upon you because you’re unsure of what you want out of this life and what really drives you.

Oh, so you thought the questions were over? HELL NAH.

Girl came back with a vengeance and asked me the third and final question: Where do you see yourself in ten years?

(I literally and figuratively threw in the towel.) I got so nervous that I accidentally pressed some type of emoji on my phone keyboard and it sent. Want to guess what emoji? A cat. And not just any cat, a fucking huge-ass junk food eating, and graphically moving cat that Facebook message has. The thing is taking up half of the screen, so in between our back and forth conversation, is just a cat going ham on some burger and fries. (Fuck you, Zuckerberg) But honestly, that’s my life. A combination of maybe knowing what I’d like to do in the future, and then probably settling on some burgers and fries and a shake with some cat while I figure it out.

And that’s okay. Right? Right. It is, and I know it. I’m so tired of people asking me that question. Half of the time, I spit out some random words like I’m rapping, and then the other half of the time, I’m like, “I don’t know.” Then comes the psychological questioning after that consists of more responses that require me to further strengthen my reasoning of, “I don’t know.” (You people really aren’t going anywhere with this) And what’s even more annoying is that most think I’m rude when I’m like, “Yeah, maybe I like that but I’m unsure.” It’s like you’re all trying to impose your own dreams onto me and I don’t want your baggage or obsession with indie music that makes you want to start a band. I’m happy for those who have it all figured out, but here’s the thing: You probably don’t have it all figured out and that’s great that you think you do, but things change every single day and in ten years from now, where you thought you’d be, you may not be at. And that’s just this crazy thing called life.

So, here’s to all of you who feel inadequate for not knowing what you want to do in life or not having yet discovered a hobby that fulfills you, there’s TIME. There’s always time to explore, discover, start anew and realize what truly makes you happy. Sometimes, the beauty in life lies in this discovery and that journey and not the actual destination.

One of my favorite essays is “Advice, like youth, probably just wasted on the young” by Mary Schmich. This piece is brilliant in reminding us younger folk to really harness the power of youth, while boiling it down to one simple factoid: Wear sunscreen. However, one of my favorite lines in there is, “Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don’t.” Our lives are constantly changing, and we can either choose to adapt or crumble. Therefore, to know exactly how your future will pan out is quite silly, because, well, you don’t know. If you can format time and manipulate this life to do whatever you want, then a big congratulations to you and I hope I can afford however much that app costs. But to those of us, who constantly get shit on for being so unsure of what our future really has in store for us, don’t worry. Look around you, because chances are, that person next to you is probably feeling the same.

Thursday.

I know, guys, I know. I can literally feel your excitement through the computer screen.

Or maybe that’s just me freaking out over the fact that the work week is coming to a close and then it’s the weekend which is literally one day because all we truly have is Saturday and Sundays are in preparation for the worst day ever and ugh, great, I just convinced myself that today is basically the end of the weekend and it’s probably Monday.

Mind blown.

Regardless, I’m struggling on this Thursday morning due to me staying out late last night. Seriously, when will we come to terms with the fact that staying out past 12AM on a workday is probably never a good idea? We probably never will because, well, alcohol, but also because of the fact that wanting to enjoy ourselves for a few hours is human nature and sometimes, needed.

I used to work at Starbucks throughout my high school career. And yes, the job is exactly as you probably pictured it; taking absolutely ridiculous orders from you psychotic and desperate coffee/tea/frappufuckingccinno addicts and turning them into gold. Seriously, baristas are wizards and you guys aren’t even appreciative of it. I digress, though. When I worked there, however, I was co-workers with some awesome kids. But life got in the way, and we got tired of wreaking like coffee beans, so we quit and moved on to the next stage of our lives: real-life.

Years passed, and although we were friends over social media, we didn’t keep in contact much. But a few days ago, one of the guys I worked with texted me inviting me to see his band play at a small venue 30 minutes from my house. I knew he was in a band, knew he played some shows, but I never made an effort to go see him and his band members rock out. (Is that what hipsters say?) However, because of this life-is-too-short motto I’ve adopted recently, I figured I’d show some face and see my old friends.

And am I glad I did. Now, before I go into my life lesson piece, can I just give credit where credit is due? To all bands across this world with such a small following, used equipment, and under 300 likes on Facebook, props. Like, PROPS. How do you even continue to do what you do when there is the smallest possibility that you will ever make it big? You know when parents tell their kids at a young age that they are completely capable of being Barack Obama or Neil Armstrong or Britney Spears (pre-shaved head), well yeah, you’re all lying and you know you are and bands are just like, “I don’t care, dude, I love this. I’m going to become the Stones, I will NOT settle for The All-American Rejects.”

As I watched them play up on that stage with such enthusiasm and such confidence and joy, I couldn’t help but get a little jealous. At first, my jealousy was me obsessing over the fact that I quit singing lessons as a kid like three classes in. (I also forgot about the fact that my vocals sound like what I imagine the grumpy cat sounds like) However, it then turned into a jealousy over passion. I grew envious over the fact that these kids, at a young age, had something they believed in, something that made them so happy, that even if they continuously failed, that failure would only inspire more strength and probably, happiness, because their journey towards whatever they were reaching for, continues.

What’s comical is that before I had gone to their concert or small gathering of moms and drunk 21 year olds trying to crowd surf in a room that probably had a fire capacity warning of like 10, I was applying to this awesome internship opportunity that required me to go beyond what my resume or cover letter stated, and asked me to clearly state my passion for their company, my passion for a 20% project (Similar to Google’s 20% project) and my interests. I’m surprised I hadn’t just given up right then and there. Passion? Interests? What is this blasphemy? It took me a day to fill out the application as I went back and forth debating what to say and trying to find out things I’m interested in in a span of 24 hours. I didn’t exactly lie about my interests, but it seemed so forced to say what I wanted to do with my life. I had no idea. I was wrestling around with the idea of writing copy for brands, or something in the editorial field, or trying to inspire change, etc. (How in the hell do you inspire change without being Ghandi? I don’t want to be set on fire) I was a lost puppy. And it was disappointing to see how much I struggled with this.

I spoke about this in a blog post earlier, but what if I never find out? What if nothing strikes me as fascinating? Essentially, what if I never join a band? (I knew I should have never quit percussion in middle school) But here’s the thing. I think I quit too easily or I’ve tried enough hobbies. I experimented with the essentials as a child. My mother forced me to dabble in singing, acting, soccer, ballet, gymnastics, tap, jazz, flute, and percussion. I scored on my own team in soccer once and used to fake blow into the flute and pretend my fingers knew where they were moving. Needless to say, I was never very interested in much as a kid. Some odd years later, here I am, confused as to whether or not I should have tried harder in ballet and actually attempted to sing. (Nope, I’m still tone deaf) My point is, I have to keep trying. When something doesn’t make me spark, I’ll move on. But I shouldn’t get discouraged.

My childhood failures in attempting to pick up a steady hobby have kind of set me back. I’m afraid I just won’t like anything, but I don’t even try to hate it! (The epitome of first world problems) Therefore, I should try. Just like I’m going to try to cook food. I’m investing in a fun, cooking class as opposed to spending it on a hangover that I don’t need or a pair of shoes that I don’t…wait, maybe I do need them. Regardless, I’m going to try new things. That’s the only way to know; to know if I like something, to know if I enjoy something, to know if I love something, and to know if I can be part of the band.

(By the way, I forgot to send this out. It’s currently Monday morning and I’m struggling pretty hard. But, good news, I have two internship options for the fall semester. Slowly but surely working my way up to back-up vocalist. Next, Liza Minnelli impersonator.)