A friend recently told me,
When you know which way you want to roll, it’s hard to see how rolling in a different direction will get you to the destination you want to be. Then again, some people are fine with just rolling, no matter what direction they’re moving towards.
Not knowing where I am going to end up is becoming the one of the biggest struggles of my 26 year-old self. Ten years ago I would think, ‘You’re suppose to have a plan, right? That’s what makes you an adult – That’s what makes you accomplish all of your goals, right?‘. Odd thing is, when I was younger, I never even had a plan. I mean, everyone else around me had plans for me, but I wasn’t concerned. I just wanted to sit in my room and draw and never be bothered, because quite frankly, I didn’t know what the hell I to do in the afternoons after school, let alone college.
And I never had to worry about that, because I never ended up in college. And I don’t plan to, either. It isn’t a ‘I’m too good for that shit!‘ warrior yell, but the weak and pathetic ‘..But I can’t pass the math section of the GED’ drone. I wasn’t the best student, and I highly doubt I’d be an any better one now. Just never got on well in classroom environments. I don’t know why, honestly – And a lot of times I wish I had known what it was so that I could fix it, and toss my graduation hat in the air like everyone else did.
Alas, I refuse to let the lack of a university education define me as a person, because not only can I play Pearl Jam rifts on the cello, or draw somebody’s face to a recognizable degree – This tiny American-French girl can rap the entirety of Eminem’s ‘Lose Yourself’ with full-on, winning conviction.
So fuck off, Pratt.
As for plans? Oh, I got them… lots. And, in a way, I’m hoping to fail each and every one of them – Because life isn’t about the concrete structure of getting somewhere, or even achieving the goal per say, but learning to accept what is not in your hands, and grabbing opportunities that may or may not be on your To-Do list.
Like they say in improvisational theater, ‘Learn to say yes, then add on’. Make it work.
Only sort of unrelated, here’s a very general, all-around experience with me and workshop critiquing:
“Fuck this story. This is boring ass shit. And everybody else has already pointed out all of the things I would improve, anyway – Oh, God, I wonder what they really think of my stuff? And what the hell do I have to say to them? Why would my opinion matter? Maybe I’m too stupid for this. I shouldn’t be a writer, I can’t even fix somebody else’s story, let alone my own! …I should just give up.. I’ll do something else! I hear an art store in the mall is looking for a night manager. I’ll put aside my dreams and find security in a low-paying, part-time position at some Capitalistic Corporation and forget about all the potential I never really had but thought I did, build up a 401k, and live the simple yet monotonous American life and be a pro-life soccer mom to a litter of bastard children with a life-long prescription of zanex* in my quilted Vera Wang handbag – Yes ma’am, that will teach me to never be ambitious agai–
Oh, hey. They missed an apostrophe.”
We all have our demons; some are more crass than others.
*Not actually pro-life. Nor an SUV owner.