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when I was a little tyke, I made compellng lists and letters of what I wanted to be when I grew up. This list ranged from raising and breeding endangered animals, to being a hip hop dancer, to being a teacher, an accountant, a writer, growing a massive strictly budgeted garden, to finally...a fashion designer. I wanted to do everything...clearly. Fortunately for me, this carried onto my adult life. I spent the first two years of my college life, sitting inside my $25,000 a year fashion school counselor office, debating what I really wanted to do, and if I was making the right decision. "Why am I so hesistant?" I used to ask...afterall this was my dream, right here in front of my face, and I was screwing it all up. I came from a poverish family, money was something we never had, so this "fashion school" was my chance. I disticly remember breezing into the city, my heart racing, thinking "this is it!" and the next thing I knew, my GPA went from a 3.9 to a .09 and I got a very impolite letter from the admissions office, basically telling me to leave.
How could I screw up everything...I cried, and sobbed, I gave up and floundered around in my tourmoil. My dad came to pick me up, and I didn't tell him why...he just came to get me when I asked him to, and I cried the entire 8 hour drive back from Illinois to Missouri.
So here I was, 45,000 dollars in debt, embarassed, upset, scared, broke, disappointed, and scattered in a million different emotions.
I couldn't dare face my friends and tell them I was going to be something, and now I was nothing. So I hid my face in the suburbs, got a job in retail, and became slighltly depressed. I drank and worked, and wanted nothing more than to reflect on my mistakes and kick my self relentlessly in the ass, every night.
I went to some ho hum community colleege, and got my AA. I overanalyzed what I should do, what my friends think I should do, what my family thought I should do, and stilll found myself unmotivated. I stopped drinking, and started going to church. I went to a University, and decided to finish my measly fashion degree. I still pondered what I should do, as I made fashion connections throughout Kansas City and met up with fashion designers, hoping something would spark with in me. ...and it didn't. I went to classes, but wanted to shoot myself in the face, from the relentless materialist crap we talked about, and I started drinking again. I interviewed the head of the counseling department, asking about her job, pondering different life choices.
Within the last year I have made the effort to become a life-coach, counselor, shoe designer, writer, and fashion designer.
I work at a dead end job, and never pay my bills on time, due to lack of money I make at my dead end job. I have plotted becoming a nutrition trainer, travel writer, a linguistics major, a fashion show producer, and a nun.
I have spent an ungodly amount of money on fashion magazines, books, writing books, and TONS of books along the lines of "the search for you purpose" and "what should I do with my life."
I'm tired.
How could I screw up everything...I cried, and sobbed, I gave up and floundered around in my tourmoil. My dad came to pick me up, and I didn't tell him why...he just came to get me when I asked him to, and I cried the entire 8 hour drive back from Illinois to Missouri.
So here I was, 45,000 dollars in debt, embarassed, upset, scared, broke, disappointed, and scattered in a million different emotions.
I couldn't dare face my friends and tell them I was going to be something, and now I was nothing. So I hid my face in the suburbs, got a job in retail, and became slighltly depressed. I drank and worked, and wanted nothing more than to reflect on my mistakes and kick my self relentlessly in the ass, every night.
I went to some ho hum community colleege, and got my AA. I overanalyzed what I should do, what my friends think I should do, what my family thought I should do, and stilll found myself unmotivated. I stopped drinking, and started going to church. I went to a University, and decided to finish my measly fashion degree. I still pondered what I should do, as I made fashion connections throughout Kansas City and met up with fashion designers, hoping something would spark with in me. ...and it didn't. I went to classes, but wanted to shoot myself in the face, from the relentless materialist crap we talked about, and I started drinking again. I interviewed the head of the counseling department, asking about her job, pondering different life choices.
Within the last year I have made the effort to become a life-coach, counselor, shoe designer, writer, and fashion designer.
I work at a dead end job, and never pay my bills on time, due to lack of money I make at my dead end job. I have plotted becoming a nutrition trainer, travel writer, a linguistics major, a fashion show producer, and a nun.
I have spent an ungodly amount of money on fashion magazines, books, writing books, and TONS of books along the lines of "the search for you purpose" and "what should I do with my life."
I'm tired.
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