First, I apologize for not posting a written blog post in a good minute. Y’all need to read more.
Second, I apologize if my written posts aren’t as exciting as my videos, however these written words help me practice the writing skills that I will need to earn my degree and I hate editing videos because it takes too freakin long and I get sick of looking at my stupid face.
I always tell myself to put on some makeup or something but then I don’t because no.
What I’d like to discuss today is a topic inspired by the many depressing conversations I’ve had with my fellow class of 2012 friends.
Many of my friends are on different paths, some still living with parents, others on their own, working full time, or going to school full time. But nevertheless, we’re all bored, bitter, confused, scared, and broke.
It’s not completely surprising (especially the broke part, the economy embraced us with open arms after graduation and it just keeps crushing us with love) but I was hoping that the bright, mysterious shining light that is our future would make struggling more worth it.
After all, I had some big dreams.
I don’t know where I put them between 11th grade and now, but I remember they were big.
I forgot I guess.
Or maybe I never really mapped them out that well. It had something to do with writing, as I’m confident that might be the only realistic, transferable, bill paying skill I possess.
I try to recall it sometimes by answering that dumb question I’m sure you’ve heard before
I feel like I should be excited. I’m almost one year down in my four years of school before I can fail safety net free.
But then I sat down with some friends to plan out our classes for fall quarter. The courses I needed to take only had a few classes open, and the courses I wanted weren’t available for that quarter – or even for the whole year for all I know right now.
A second wave of depression.
Am I really paying all this freaking money to take stupid science classes that have nothing to do with my major? Or second major? Or minor? Or interests? Or topics that don’t kill me?
College is depression.
I got to talk about it recently during a time when I was actually supposed to be acting professional while interviewing this student for my Intro to Journalism class.
We stayed on topic for a while, then he mentioned that he is strongly considering dropping out next year. He’s a digital cinema major and screen writing “classes” will only do so much. He’s going to L.A.
We then discussed how the education system is horribly morbid and that unfortunately college is no longer the life-giving privilege older generations still see it as.
It could be the death of us. It could be the mediocre, struggling but making it enough that complaining is selfish, day to day monotony, insomnia inducing boredom – of us.
But I gotta say, that kid has a lot of balls.
I briefly tried to imagine myself telling my black parents that I’m dropping out of school and moving to London.
I got slapped back to reality.
I guess I blinded myself with the idea of leaving my corntrap that I didn’t spend enough time being realistic with my future. Now my problem is I don’t even know what I’m doing.
There are things I want to do.
I want to go to London.
I want to sit in the audience during a filming of a Comedy Central show.
I want to upgrade my blog to my own website.
I want to go to Kenya.
I want to fall asleep by myself on an airplane just to find out that I won’t die or be killed.
I want to eat one of those burgers with grilled cheese sandwiches for bread.
I want to go to Jamaica.
I want to see a snake eat a rat.
I want to almost go scuba diving but back out because I’m too scared.
I want to go to Italy.
I want to take an Instagram photo with Tyra Banks.
I want to dance in the rain and not worry about my hair.
I want to go to Brazil.
I want to see more chocolate babies.
I want to adopt a boxer puppy and name him after one of my favorite black male actors, or just Capn’ Crunch.
But life is hard.
And it looks really crappy right now.
Or maybe that’s just because Chicago is hiding the sun again.