You know that mental breakdown that's supposed to come when you've finished college and have a boring job that pays for your groceries and you remember that you were good at doodling in middle school and once took an engineering class that you enjoyed, and can make a killer omelette, but none of those things boost you up the corporate ladder, and so you sit on your couch and have a meltdown in between segments of Law and Order because you don't know what to do with your life?
... Well, neither do I.
But I kind of had a mini-version of that.
Basically, my current GPA, while unknown, is suspected to be rather mediocre. Well, average/above average, but that's my equivalent of mediocre, so same thing. And the odds of getting a good part in Fiddler on the Roof are looking somewhere around 78%. Maybe. Actually, more like 62.5%, which coincidentally happens to be the lowest grade I've ever gotten on a test. (It was my Algebra 2 final exam, which dropped me to a B+ on the last day of school and was the bane of my existence for about 2 weeks.)
Anyway.
I realized that I've always wanted to be good at painting. I know I say that about a lot of things. (Gymnastics, wearing red pants, ballet, painting my fingernails evenly, etc.) But still, it's nonetheless true. Basically, I'm in a phase of scrolling through all my likes on StumbleUpon and clicking on all the ones that are remotely art-related in an attempt to spark some sort of creative epiphany. Then I convinced my mom to buy me some acrylics, painted a couple things that turned out (like everything else), decidedly mediocre, and now I'm caught between this brightly-lit vision of being a twenty-something abstract artist living on the upper East side, or sticking with pencil doodles while still being the brainchild of my graduating class, which isn't looking so promising either, due to my inability to doodle and pay attention in class at the same time and the current existence of Peri Oxford, the #1 GPA in the junior class.
(The last sentence was rather long, but I think it's still grammatically correct. Oh, screw it. It's a blog.)
So I'm okay at painting. I'm okay at grades. I'm okay at singing. I'm a little better than that at acting, but I refuse to be one of those waitresses in Los Angeles that tells her customers that she's an "actress", when in reality she's a waitress who has gotten one or two callbacks but never a real acting job.
So where does that leave me. Well, I could get into a decent college. Stanford will have to go on the back burner, or maybe stay Saran-wrapped in the fridge for later, or maybe even down the disposal altogether, but a decent college. Maybe a drama scholarship. Maybe. Maybe a small-ish academic one as well. I'll get a roommate. I'll get a job at a cafe. I'll participate in a couple all-nighters because I'll stress about my B in English or something.
Then... something. Maybe I will get back into painting. Maybe I'll become a collector of antique books. Maybe I'll travel and pursue Bucket List Item #1 somewhere in Finland. Some guy will notice and think I'm cool and eventually I'll get married.
............Oh.
I guess that's it.
..........
I'm going to go try another painting.
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Author's Note: I just watched the Social Network. My fingers are literally twitching because I can't type fast enough to get everything out of my head. Sorry for the brain-purging explosive-ness.
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