I graduated film school in 2006. Since then, I have been trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.
I’ve still yet to grow up.
When I was little I played with Barbies. My barbie who never had a name, least not one I can remember, owned her own Pizza Shoppe. And she hung out with her kid sister Skipper more than she ever did with Ken. I don’t think Ken even had a job if I remember correctly.
I had a big imagination when I was a youngin’. Fantasies that would preoccupy my mind when no one was able to play. I can remember one where I was working and living in some big city. I had blonde hair in a professional french twist. I would be wearing a fashionable business pant-suit with shiny black heels, and in my hand would be a black leather briefcase. I didn’t dream of the actual work, just the money, power, and prestige that would come with some mystery big city career.
I wanted to be independent — independently wealthy.
Fast forward to high school. I need just two credits to graduate. I’m in my senior year and only have two classes so everyday is a half day and I’m off campus by 11:15 am. I had decent grades, but I loathed school. And not because of teachers or work, but because of the student body. I couldn’t stand my peers and most of my friends were in other schools. I dropped out.
I did some correspondence school and got what I thought was my diploma. Short story: it wasn’t.
I went to community college and dropped it halfway through my first semester. Decided to take a gap year.
Three years later, I find the film school. It’s only a year long program to get your two year degree. I get pregnant little over halfway through. I wanted to drop out, my mom said no so I continued. I miscarried. I graduated. I returned home.
I find out my high school diploma is a fake, at 26 I get my GED. I start taking classes as a full time student at the community college last year. I end the semester with a 4.0. I start summer semester. I drop out with only my finals left to take. My GPA plummets. I start working full time at a job I hate. I quit. I start another job doing the same work, I quit after a month.
Now I am unemployed and unsure of what I want to do and how I can even continue. I obviously have commitment issues.