A lot of what I’ve been drawn to read lately is about what to do when you’re in your twenties (big surprise, eh?). What defines happiness, especially–read: ESPECIALLY– in careers? Is that even possible nowadays? I mean, it definitely is–I think big-name successful writers have it pretty great, personally, because I know exactly how hard they had to work to get there, that point where your life’s passion pays your bills. I’m so far from that it’s screamingly funny, but I’m not jealous (Well. Who isn’t a little jealous of Ms. Rowling. Shoot. She got to invent the Harry Potter world. How bombass and fun that must have been.) because I know that no writer has it easy at the beginning and most of the time along the way.
But I’m wrapping up my college career soon and I’m starting to shit a brick, just a little. Because I’m starting to worry that I did it wrong.
I feel like this:
What’s the point of college? To get a degree. Most (I didn’t think it WAS most but it sure feels like it. A “bachelor’s degree” is starting to become “JUST a bachelor’s degree.” scary.) then go to grad school. To get another degree. For what purpose? Money? I can’t speak for doctors, lawyers, or nurses but I KNOW my motivation behind a degree for surely isn’t money, not as an English major.
But when I think about the future beyond my twenties (which I try to avoid. Quite frankly, it gives me heart palpitations.) I start to wonder what it’s all about. Because so many people hate what they do. And it seems absolutely horrifying to me that the purpose of life is just to put up with a job you despise in order to get by.
And I do know that the suck-factors of life must indeed be factored in, even though I’m an unbelievably, extremely lucky live-in to a middle-class household. Don’t worry. I work in a warehouse. I know that sometimes all you can do is take what you can get, because it’s either that or your kids get the same thing that you did.
But there’s no point in trying one-up life stories. We all have it, had it, or will later have it bad enough somewhere.
There just a big ole WHAT DO WE DO?
And I think that we need are causes. That my profundity for the day. Let’s get creative here. Not just us, but the big guns too. The big cheese. The government. We need jobs that give us meaning. Don’t jobs, essentially, solve problems? Need a school shipment of learning supplies? Enter: distribution warehouse, with people who supervise and people who pack boxes and all the other little puzzle pieces, people whose jobs solve all those problems (you bet I’m absolutely drawing from life experience here).
I think we just need some better problems to solve.
And to reconcile with the fact that we should not all be the same. There is such pressure to be the best at certain things. Hapana, asante. I suck at a lot of things, including ambition, GPAs, extracurriculars, and dressing appropriately for office jobs. Self-esteem is hard to come by when everything in the world is telling you that you suck if you can’t do things like that.