I like to consider myself a pretty optimistic person for the most part, even to the extreme point that I’m easily excited by free samples by Costco and smiles from random strangers in the grocery store, and the both of them can easily make my day.
I really only succumb to such periods of deep and sometimes pessimistic introspection when I’ve read too much Gogol or Tolstoy and question purposes in the world, the creepy beards of both authors (Chekhov was the only real babe of my Russian Short Fiction course), and other deep stuff like that.
I give you, Anton “James Mcavoy should TOTES play me in a biopic” Chekhov.
But since I’ve been on break, mingling with my friends from high school (and sneaking on to my old high school, getting caught once, sneaking back on to campus and subsequently the likely cause of a school-wide lockdown. But that’s another story and another blog post), and hearing about everyone’s plans and schemes in their lives I really can’t lie.
I’m freaked out.
Which is where I thought a dose of a chapter “Peanut Butter Jar for the Soul: College Edition” was truly needed for someone like me today to do some introspection, creepy beards or not. Peanut butter jars, obviously, because of my full- fledged peanut butter addiction and the fact that I can’t even remember the last time I ate Chicken Soup to sooth my soul in favor of my nutty friend.
But back at the ranch.
I guess the only means I can explain how I feel at this point is frustration. To be honest, ever since I found out that my major (linguistics) is pretty impossible to do at my school as it doesn’t exist since we have kind of limited courses, and would most likely have to transfer (as said by my advisor), I knew I had to whip out the trusty jar of nutty goodness to figure out My Grand Plan For What The Heck I Am Going To Do At This Point. The college application process wasn’t quite the fancy tickler to say the least and I’m trying as hard as I can to not have to go through the same thing again.
And to be honest, I’ve always been pretty off the wall when it comes to what I think I want to do with my life. I can easily sum up all of the things I thought I was going to do with my life from the age of 3. Enjoy this little flow chart if you will.
As you can see by this highly scientific chart, I’ve always been kind of what other people pin as “unrealistic” and “ridiculous”. To be honest, I don’t understand either of the adjectives some nay-sayers use to describe me.
I mean, someone has to be the bear trainers and mermaids (Okay, maybe not that one but a girl can dream) of the world. Why can’t it be me? Sure pretty much all of the careers I’d sell my left arm for ( or have it ripped off by a wild bear?!) are hit or miss. You get one chance in a sea full of millions of others who are trying to do the same thing. Not a whole lot of reliability, but then again I’m not really concerned with reliability as it seems like all that does is let you wind up in a cubicle, your nose to a computer screen.
Thus where my Teenage Angst rode in stage right upon a noble steed.
As you can also see, I really don’t plan on being in academia in the slightest. I thought I would just with how much I drool over linguistic theories, grammar, and Wikipedia-ing Esperanto (Who wouldn’t?!?!) and talking about roots and etymology. But to be honest, my heart isn’t in that at all. It’s one of my favorite things in the world, but it’s definitely not my passion to the best of my knowledge and no jobs in that field even remotely have my fancy tickled. I just say it as a means to get people off my back and for people to stop laughing at what I really, really, seriously, (redundantly) want to do. What I’m really planning on giving my all at and have seriously been super tempted to drop out of school for (Don’t worry, I’m not….yet. 😉 Don’t give me any ideas ).
And isn’t everyone guaranteed that right? To pursue the things they want to without being judged or thought less of? Yeah, that’s right. That’s why I truly want to go full force with my real passion, because even though I may be an Unrealistic Ursula at times, I don’t quit goals once I really zero in on them. I beast mode them to be quite honest. What I truly deep down want in the bottom of my (for today) two sizes too small heart (after I finish this rant-fest it shall be two sizes too big as usual! Promise!) is to be a writer/actress for a show like SNL or 30 rock.
Okay, I’ll let the laugh track go on now.
Okay, keep it going. Get all your giggles out.
Alright, silence please.
I’ve pretty much been in the closet with this dream ever since I’ve been 6-8ish ever since I started being raised by the Great Will Ferrel, Cheri Oteri, Molly Shannon, Gilda Radner, and Chris Farley.
One of my comedy and hairstyle idols, Gilda Radner ❤
It’s the thought of me creating something that could potentially make someone spit out their drink from laughing or wetting themselves while watching or reading something that I’ve written that makes me feel happy.
It’s writing these posts and really writing all of the weird things that fly around in my brain that make me happy. I need to create something, I need to make people laugh, and I need to make people wet their pants, to put it quite frankly. These things make me click my heels with joy like a little school girl.
And besides, you know that when you Wikipedia the lives of every SNL cast member from the early ‘90’s to the present cast to see how they got to where they are that you need to go for it. Sure, people will laugh, but hopefully for me it will be with me, not at me.
Hopefully afterwards they will have to change their clothes because they were laughing too hard and spilled something.
And hopefully for the people that have been nay-sayers to me or think I’m really unrealistic, I hope whatever they spill will be very, very, very (redundantly) hot.