I hate being asked questions about post-secondary education. Let me just put that out there. Chances are I didn’t go to college to learn how to bartend or change dirty diapers, so you can assume it has about ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with my life as of late. Yes, I get it. Post-secondary choices and destinations can be a great conversation starter and view into a person’s interests and ya-da-frackin-da. Personally, I’d rather talk about the weather. It’s raining today. There’s several clouds and water is falling from the sky. Good talk.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not embarrassed or filled with regret and yes, I did go on to higher learning after graduating high school (with honours and scholarships and grants, ahem ahem, less-than-humble brag). The thing is, I wish I hadn’t. Guidance counsellors and family members pushed me into Journalism because I’m one of those nerds who’d rather chill with the written word than risk a trip into public where I end up wanting to punch the universe. Thousands of dollars later, only one semester completed, and I was all, “THIS IS SO NOT WHAT I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE”. And now I’m a dropout.
There are two very good (in my personal opinion) reasons why this is. Number one: I really fucking hate being told what to write about and which formula to follow when writing it. If the topic didn’t spring into my head during a meaningless life chore, I’ve got nothing to say about it. Zip, zilch, nada. And there’s no way I can organize “zip, zilch, nada” into a “who, what, when, where, why” story that would interest anyone. Number two: I really fucking hate writing about anything outside of myself and my interests. Which, I suppose, makes me Queen Of The Vain and Self-Absorbed but hey, at least I’m honest about it. The first step is admitting you have a problem, or something like that.
I was 17 when I started college. I’m 25 now. And guess what! I still have no bloody clue what I want to be when I grow up. The only thing I’ve ever consistently had any passion towards has been writing. Until I start getting paid to write in my own blog or judge/mock humanity, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do with that though. I could start a tabloid magazine about average citizens instead of celebrities. “Breaking News! Stupid teenager takes up 3 seats on the subway and blares music out of personal headphones to the point that angry pregnant woman beats him with an umbrella.” – I’m pretty sure this story would win a Pulitzer. Brilliant.
The moral of this story is don’t stay in school, kids. Or don’t go to school. Or something like that. This story has a terrible moral and is probably why I can’t get paid for my writing.