A Dilemma We All Face Unless We Marry Rich

We all experience the ongoing mayhem in our brains that is induced by the question: "What am I going to do with my life?" The question itself sounds simple enough, but not only is this a question of money; it's a question that society deems necessary to answer as soon as possible. Also, there is a new development that not many people consider, but makes answering said question all the more difficult.

"What am I going to do with my life that will pay rent and will make me happy?"

It's easy to spout out answers when you're young because happiness is an everyday occurrence when you're innocent and don't have to pay any bills. When you're young, you think about occupations that sound fun at the time, and hang onto them until you get bored with the idea of being a fire truck or a police dog. You move onto more standard jobs, like being a doctor or a teacher. Then, when you are old enough to realize that just picking something because it sounds cool isn't practical, and you are forced to really consider the job description that best suits you as a person, as well as your wallet- well- it's not fun anymore.



I am twenty-one-years-old and have a degree in nothing. I started this blog with a haughty post describing my ambitions as an English major, and yet here I am: no degree, no job, no fulfillment.

Don't get me wrong, I am on cloud nine being engaged to Mr. Right, I really am, but I was raised with a sense of independence that is so embedded in my brain that it's hard to let go because it's a part of who I am. It whispers to me late in the night when I'm contemplating my credit card bill, making it hard to sleep. It summons a crippling guilt whenever Michael pays for the groceries, or buys me the pretty dress I couldn't keep my eyes off of. It punches me right in my lady gut when I see my high school graduation photo hanging slumped to one side over my Mom's desk. I see the ambition so clearly in my 17-year-old eyes, and I feel like I've failed that girl.

Here is my frantic timeline:

Elementary School
Music Teacher

Middle School
Archaeologist
Author
Comic artist

High School
Zoologist
English teacher

University
English Teacher
Author

Drop Out

Author
Nurse
Bar Owner
Real estate Agent
Web Designer
Comic Store Owner
Etsy Store Owner
House Wife
Secretary
...AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUGGHHHH!

This battle has been going on for years now, because honestly, I can't find a single interest of mine that alone defines me. I love to write, create, help people, feel good at the end of the day, interact, and would one day like to have a big family. I like to be in charge of myself and work at a pace that fits me. How am I supposed to fit all of these aspects of my personality into one field?!

Well, one day, I found myself doing what I usually do when I grow bored of my surroundings: I rearranged furniture and organized the shelves until I felt like I was living somewhere else for a while.

"That looks really good." Michael said, examining the room.

"You always say that," I responded. I don't deserve the man.

"No really, I think I like this the best. I like the empty wine bottles and glasses on the shelf over the fireplace like that, and the book shelf looks more organized now."

Conversations like this happen often and lead into further conversations about the use of space, color, energy and utility. I can look through interior design magazines for hours, and Mike doesn't even mind when I drag his attention to a particular arrangement and talk about projects I'd like to do around the house and little tricks I've seen pinned on Pinterest that I can't get out of my mind. I could spend the rest of my life residing within the walls of Ikea.

Interior design has been a hobby of mine since my Mom introduced to me the prospect of changing my room every few years for a new, fresh beginning.

That's how I feel when I buy a vase for the side table, or rearrange picture frames, or look at color schemes online: fresh. It's always been an escape mechanism of mine for when the world outside of my home seems too overwhelming; I take charge of the miniature world that is my apartment. After a bad day, all I have to do is move the wine rack to a different side of the bar and fluff up the pillows, and I suddenly find myself ready to conquer cities. It makes me feel inspired and alive. It's a hobby that completely relies on my creativity to thrive.

Since then, I've been seriously considering this field of study for when I return to school. It incorporates my love of color, design, creativity, and may someday even help people. As for the writing? I smell a side blog project possibility.

You're not doing it right

I hate it when I am obviously doing something, or nothing (mostly nothing), but it is still apparent how I am occupying my time, and some sleaze with ill intentions written across his face with jet black permanent marker leans toward me, whether it be at work or any other public location, and asks, "Whatcha doin'?"  This has always been a pet peeve of mine, but I usually handle myself well and manage to get the man who thinks that I am just passing the time by staring at the pages of a book to look smart to get bored with me and give up on his hidden agenda. It can be very tiresome.

Man with very high standards who takes a seat beside me: "What are you doing?"

Me with very low patience and has a purse beneath the man's ass: "...Reading a book."

Man: "What book is it?"

Me: (It is written on the cover that is facing you, asshole) "Eat, Pray, Love."

Man: "Is it about eating, praying and loving?

Me: (No, it's about cannibalism and necrophiliacs.) "Yep."

Man: "Do you need to learn to do these things?"

Me: (I will kill you.) "This is a story about someone else. It was not in the "Do It Yourself" section, if that is what you mean."

"Ah."

(Five minutes pass with my nose in the pages and the man staring at me until he grows bored of me and leaves, leaving my purse pressed into the seats, halfway hidden in the cushions of the couch.)

That same day, I went to work and did my usual clean sweep of the place, then sat down to enjoy a hookah until my shift was over at ten. Maeson was not in the best of moods, but said something that reminded me that I have brilliant friends. "I was a bitch today," she started.

"How?"

"I hate it when people ask me what I am doing when it is obvious what I am doing."

"I completely agree."

"So I am going to start answering them all the same way."

"How?"

"I am going to tell them to I am doing kegal exercises."

My jaw dropped.

"I tried it and it worked. The guy thought I was weird and walked away."

My jaw was so low to the ground I was in danger of getting rug burn on my chin. "It actually works?"

"So far."

I mean, the idea is incredibly inappropriate, but it was produced at work, a place with no boundaries. (Maybe that is why I don't make tips...) But I wanted to try it out for myself. So I set up a station at the front desk and waited to be approached by the same question that so many women hate.

"So what are you up to?"

I looked up from my book to find a mediocre looking freshman adorned with a hot pink polo and a tie. Oh God. So I tested the waters, confident that Maeson's knowledge of the world that had been passed down to me would surely work in my favor. So I replied as sarcastically as humanly possible, "Doing my kegal exercises."

"That is so incredibly SEXY."

Great Jessica.

"Do all women do that or just some?"

You picked a horny freshman to use as a lab rat.

"Oh my God I bet you are so good in bed."

Good job.

I would rather be playing my game, really

The last few weeks have been so action packed that I haven't nutured my blog, which I beat myself up for every day that I had a spare moment to post but didn't because I am a lazy ass and because I just discovered a cool online game that I am officially addicted to (multiple addictions = less postage). So since I am not allowed to download this super awesome rpg on the work desktop (boss can't appreciate a good game) and since I just completed a good chunk of homework that is due next week, I can finally post.

...only I have no clue as to what I want to talk about. I forgot my notes at home.

Yes, I am one of those. You know, the blogger that only finds inspiration when my laptop isn't handy, like when I'm at the movies or on the toilet, and end up having to write things down before I forget, but when I finally get the time to sit down and write, I end up losing  gasp of all of the pent up motivation and just play video games instead. Yeah, I'm committed.

I can recall one thing that I wrote on the list after receiving a text from Michael about the status of his pants. This did not just happen once, but it is becoming a habit of his to text me the wearabouts of his pants, whether they are being worn or being stripped away. I do not know what to expect next.

"Pants status: Off"

"Pants status: On"

Maybe I should start texting him the status of my hormones, because God knows that is ever changing, and I don't want to text him the status on my pants because there would be nothing to update. I live in Texas. Fuck pants. Plus, any text with the implication of clothing being removed would be torture for a sailor who hasn't got any since last year. Poor guy. Poor me. Poor pants. Poor hormones.

Poor readers for having to endure this post. I'll stop now.

Little pieces of bad news can have huge consequences

When I first figured out what it was that I wanted to do with my life, I knew that there was a chance that someday I would be putting all of my effort into a project only to discover that someone managed to get the same idea out into the world before I could. But nothing can prepare a writer for such a disappointment, especially when they thought that their idea was one hundred percent original.

I found that out the hard way today when a friend of mine asked about my musical and revealed to me that what I thought to be a unique idea was actually the opposite.

I guess that I am going to have to look at the hours that I put into the musical as a method of warming up for a bigger project in the future, something even greater than this first attempt. But I can't help but feel an ache in my chest whenever I think about how anxious I was to get the musical finished. All of the deadlines in my schedule book are useless now I guess. No use continuing with something that will get me nowhere.

Once I finish the short story due in my creative writing class this Wednesday and midterms have passed, I'll focus on one of my other projects during Spring Break. Or I'll just read a good book. I haven't done that in a while.

This really sucks. But hey, life goes on.

Computers hate me, and so does Chilis.

Just when I thought shit cloud was here to stay, a stroke of luck came upon me and now I am back to a lesser state of paranoia. You see, my laptop was not charging because the thing is bipolar and only decides to work when I really don't need it all that much. All of my school notes are on it and midterms are next week. But that realization came to me after the first: my musical is on there. Yeah. Fuck you school. Fuck you notes. I just want my musical. But today the charger decided to give me a break and lit up. I hope it works tomorrow in class. If not, how the heck am I supposed to spam Twitter and read online comics? (Oh, hi Mom.) I mean, how am I supposed to take detailed notes on the great American writers Emerson and Poe if I don't have the means to charge my laptop? There's always paper, but that is so 90's and my wrist still hurts when I move it too much. Yeah, I broke it last year in a Chili's parking lot. But that is a story for another time. I wonder if my professor would object to me bringing my desktop...

(It's that time of the month again, and I don't mean aunt flow. I mean the blogger spotlight has been updated. Congrats to Mindful Mustache and to Tickets for Two! And if you are bored, check out my new "Things I Like" section and click a number. Chances are you could find something super awesome. I can't promise that there isn't porn. You'll just have to find out on your own.)

Legally Motivated!

When all else fails, and no friends have a pill or two to spare that will keep my head focused on the books or on my workout, anything really, I pop in Legally Blonde. Because there is just something about a girl that no one takes seriously who kicks their asses in a court room that really motivates me to read Edgar Allen Poe. So I watched the movie, got hyped to do my homework, then read about murdering cats, an old man with a funky eye, and a wife. Then there was the repetitive theme of shoving their body parts into weird places throughout the house. I hugged Stella for a long time after I read it. A long time. I will never hang you from a tree my dearest feline. Please don't haunt me.

Speaking of animals, my new weenie got his ass handed to him by Dex, my parent's cat that they rescued from a fate of living off of wild mice and other things that carry diseases. At first he cried out and I thought nothing of it because he's a pansy, but then I picked him up and suddenly realized that maybe it was more serious than I thought because my white shirt was no longer white. It was dyed the color of, well, blood.

I could never be a doctor or anything dealing with bodily fluids on a daily basis. (But J-Roll! How on earth do you expect to be a momma bird in the future if you can't deal with stuff like that?) I'LL TELL YOU READER WHO ASKS OBVIOUS QUESTIONS!

When it comes to someone I care about, I go maternal ape shit. My niece spewed vomit all over the place and I was on it like no one's business. When Charlie was covered in metallic smelling substances, I took care of it! I can't claim that I didn't gag like, a million times AFTER everything was taken care of, but still. I won't be a parental unit who refuses to change a diaper or mop up puke or put pressure on a gaping wound.

...

Excuse me a moment.

...

Onto less grotesque news that makes me want to wear my toilet as a hat, I am almost finished with the first act of my musical! Say HUZZAH! and comment if you are just as excited as I am! Thank you Legally Blonde for motivating me to get my degree and for keeping me focused on important things like keeping my new dog alive, motherhood, and musicals.

Bliss before the storm

I often think back on the moment I decided that I would transfer schools to be closer to Michael. That whole week, there had been this proposal for me to move to Alaska weighing down on my shoulders and I had spent the entirety of that week identifying the pros and cons of said proposal. I had told Michael that I couldn't do it and I named off every excuse in the book with ease. But then I would return to the subject the very next day because it had never truly been put to rest in my mind. The idea persistently poked and prodded at me, even when I thought that I had finally made up my mind. The reason that it bothered me so much to say no was because it was actually possible for me to go.

It just not practical, realistic or a smart choice to make.

A colorful rant meets a colorful rant.

I was surprised at how much feedback I received for posting my first Vlog, and how fast I received it. Thank you everyone for putting up with me. I was unaware that I had an accent until this morning when I accepted the plethora of comments waiting for me. Also, apparently I make a hot librarian figure, which will sadly be a temporary look considering that I am going to get my contacts soon. Sorry everyone, but at least you have documented proof that I am sizzling hot in my glasses. Those are going to be put away for a long time, so if this upsets you, I encourage you to watch the video as much as you want. This is not an invitation to undress me with your eyes though, you librarian fetish fiends.

Day Three: Drugs are bad m'kay... sometimes.

Day Three of Super Awesome Challenge: Your views on drugs and alcohol.

The only recreational drug that I do not have an issue with is marijuana. Medically, I think that the fact that it is controversial is hilarious. If marijuana is outlawed because people find that it is abused, then maybe alcohol should be too. There are plenty of substances that are abused, even prescriptions. It's unavoidable. Make it legal and at least the government will see some sort of revenue from it. God knows we need it. I'd imagine that American citizens will be too chill to be angry as well. It's a win win.

And I like wine. ...That's my view on that.

Okay, I know this is supposed to be all deep and thought out, but school started for me today. Returning after a summer plus a semester of educational freedom makes it hard to sit in a chair and listen to lectures all day. Luckily I enjoyed my classes, and the content we are about to touch base on is pretty interesting. (I'm learning about a Native American tribe that thought the world was molded from chest perspiration. You would pay attention in class too.) So I am a little out of it because I am already making it a point to review, study, review, and study some more. I am focused like nobody's business yo.

...because Mike is too busy to distract me so I am bored most of the time. May as well make some A's while I'm at it. Perhaps indulge in the previous subject matter as well. Eh eh?

Hope in the midst of educational disaster

So you would think that returning to college after a semester off would be stressful enough, right? Oh ho ho, my blog viewers. Oh ho ho... no. You have no idea. You see, I was in Alaska when class registration occurred. It was also during registration that I was experiencing the brief mindset that returning to Texas State for a semester before transferring would be a waste of time and money since I wasn't sure if all of my credits would carry over. So, I have decided that returning when I am so close to graduating anyway would be the better option, especially after being provided with a piece of paper that showed me just how close I really am to walking the stage. And God knows that I just want to get my freakin' degree already.

Late registration was this morning at exactly eight a.m. I woke up, snatched my laptop, and logged in online to search for open classes.

(Background information: I thought that registration was yesterday so when I got up to search for open classes I discovered that all the classes that I need are full up. Closed. Unavailable. Out of reach. Shit cloud hath returneth.)

This morning one class had suddenly opened up. I assume someone had dropped the course or God had bestowed upon me the gift of me not wanting to tear my own hair out. Now, I usually do background checks on my professors on http://blog.ratemyprofessors.com/, but at first glance, I knew I had hit jackpot. The professor was my essay writing instructor during freshman year. He is and was by far the most inspiring, influential, and encouraging teachers I have ever had. Period.

...which means that today was better than I had expected. I am going to have to fight with my claws extended to get into the rest of these mandatory courses, but at least at the start of every Monday and Wednesday I'll be with someone that really made my major interesting. Not many people find professors like that. Not many professors like that exist.