A couple of weeks ago I came to the startling realization that I can do absolutely anything that I want with my life. It seems like I should have realized this sooner, but somehow this fact managed to escape me, until, of course, it hit me like a ton of bricks (sorry about the hackneyed metaphor--but really, what great imagery). As great as this bounty of opportunity is, I feel wholly unprepared for such a vast expanse of possibility and choices (how many aggrandizing adjectives can you use in one sentence?). Life thus far has been fairly straight forward: school, summer, another year of school, graduation, college, etc--but apparently no one thought to tell us what to do after that. It seems rather like clear-cut stepping stones leading right up to a sheer cliff accompanied only by one of those comical road signs with arrows pointing in every possible direction leaving the traveler befuddled. In case you didn't catch the metaphor I would be the befuddled traveler in this imaginary situation and I seem to find myself staring blankly at the overloaded road sign. At this critical juncture on the road of life I see several possibilities presenting themselves (feel free to send in your votes):
1. Obtain an uber prestigious job offer post-graduation which will in turn lead to business school and a high-powered career including pencil skirts, high heels, and long hours.
2. Throw caution to the wind, my money to plane tickets, and take a year after graduation to see the world. Maybe head off to Europe and stay until I run out of money.
3. Drop out of college and buy a van from 1975 that I can live in by the river. . . with Chris Farley.
4. Spend all of my time seeking out an unsuspecting R.M. wandering campus and make him my husband; then bear his 12 children and cook him dinner every night.
5. Stay in college forever getting completely impractical degrees in every subject under humanities and making myself absurdly overqualified for any job I might ever hope to obtain.
6. Marry rich.
7. Get a business degree and become the dictator of a small Latin American country, preferably one with a good amount of beach front property.
8. Spend next summer interning somewhere in Latin America and then heading up some sort of non-profit development organization post-graduation.
9. Move in with Angelica and spend the rest of my life nannying her children and offering my expertise on which shoes go best with which jeans.
10. Borrow one of Hilary's pantsuits and Palin's glasses and become President of the United States and then rule the world (this one comes from a childhood aspiration expressed in a kindergarten in-class activity).
11. Go to law school then get married and have kids and realize I just went into debt getting a degree I will probably never use.
12. Go to law school, become a judge, and finally enjoy the long-fantasized privilege of telling people exactly what I think while they are forced to listen and follow my directions.
13. Live in Julie and Tom's basement cleaning up their messes and making sure their kids stay alive.
14. Move back to the jungle, marry an 85 year old Shaman, and master the art of the blow-dart gun.
Thoughts?
P.S. Anyone catch the reference in the title?
8 comments:
"Well, shall we go?"
"Yes, let's go."
I am fairly confident that the life capacity of my unbelievably beautiful and grotesquely precocious children far outshines any of the other options on this list. Therefore, you must make sure they don't expire early. Therefore, you must live in my basement. And thus we see, you cannot live with Angelica OR Chris Farley. Or do any of these other silly things.
So, I did not catch the reference until I read Dad's comment. Is it "Waiting for Godot"?
Your musings are delightful, as are you, dear daughter. You might consider this: 'life is what happens while you're making other plans'. Or not.
Chris Farley is dead, so now you're down to only 13 choices. If you want to check off as many things from your list as possible, you could graduate, go to law school, get a prestigious job offer and turn it down. Then buy a 1975 van and Julie, Tom, their children, Ryan, Layla, Weston and I will all move in with you. We could have the missionaries over for dinner every night so you could scout out the future RMs, but when they were all scared of you, we could move our van to the Ecudorian jungle and marry the Shaman (who will then be 95 years old). He will soon die, leaving you queen of the tribe, which is close enough to being a lawyer, judge, dictator and high-powered business woman.
Good luck!
I'm surprised you've only just now become conflicted over this. Since freshmen year of high school I've had trouble deciding what to do with my time. I want to do it all, be a renaissance man and a jack of all trades. Unfortunately, I've determined that first, it's impossible, and second, a jack of all trades is truly an expert of none.
I still haven't made any firm decisions and time is ticking. Good luck making yours. Might ask Zach how he does it.
...I still don't get the reference...
Kudos to Dad, it is Waiting For Godot by Samuel Beckett, and for Merritt, I highly reccomend it
#12#12#12#12
I vote two. I will go with you. We would be a force to be reckoned with, as I speak French and you speak Spanish. Let's do it together. Yes. Yes yes. And then we can live in Tom and Julie's basement. Well, you could.
By the way, I knew it was Godot before I even read anyone elses comments. Just saying. And its actually going to be playing on campus this week. Wanna come?
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