I am a frustrated twenty-seven-year-old failure. I am a slave to the chronic ritual of a Monday-Friday job that leaves me felling empty and pointless. In fact, falling in sync with the ritual is a reoccurring thing within itself. The most time I’ve spent at one job was the 2.5 years I gave to Starbucks. I don’t even think I made it to the .5, maybe the .2.
It’s around the first year mark that I begin to get jittery and cynical. I truly do feel something is fucked about bestowing our loyalties to the company we work for, yet fear losing our job when passion or desire meet occupational priority, but that’s a different story and I’m choosing a different path this time.
The problem here is that it’s not just my job, it’s everything in my life. I’ve been playing by the same rules that have set me back since before they started setting me back. Take this blog, for example. It’s full of random accounts of a life that even I’m not interested in hearing about. Full of bitter “truths” and failed “revelations”.
I spend hours thinking about life and what I think is wrong with other people, what’s wrong with me, and what philosophy best suits my life. The thing is, I have no life to suit a philosophy to. And though I have no qualms when it comes to being honest with myself, it’s a pointless ability if you don’t enforce the necessary change that such a knowledge requires.
My problem is, I have no goals to live up to in my family. I have one brother who, by honest comparison, I’m actually doing better than. With that “hovering”, I have absolutely no motivation. I have nothing to look at and say “wow, what the fuck am I doing?”.
It’s a comfortable backdrop for personal excuses and it’s gone on too long. I’m almost thirty. Thirty. T H I R T Y.
There is no excuse good enough anymore.
I’m tired of the self-loathing that constantly consumes me, tired of feeling like shit about the beige outlook I have – I’m just tired. It’s much harder to make excuses than to actually get off of my ass and do something about my “plight”.
So, I reapplied with FAFSA, purchased the study guide for the placement test and researched the necessary requirements for Nursing. Nursing, right? Not journalism, I know. However, I’m not copping out on my dreams, I’m actually making them easier to achieve. For someone who strives for independence, applying for financial aid and spending money going to school for a career that’s oversaturated and filled with competition for positions that pay little and don’t even interest me, that actually puts a worse feeling in my stomach than not going to school at all.
Firstly, there is always a demand for nurses – it’s a field of work that assures a job. Secondly, it gives me the freedom to move just about anywhere I please. Thirdly, my cousin, who is an RN (and only two years older than me), just bought a house. Not even thirty and bought a house.
And to anyone who wants to tell me that I have no idea what I’m in for, I know. Trust me, I know. My best friend was a CNA for about 2 years and showered me with all of the gory details of what nursing entails. But that’s okay. Cleaning someone’s shit off the sheets has nothing on feeling like a piece of shit every day. Nothing.
It’s also important to consider that my patience and rationality are at best when someone is genuinely in need of care or patience. And anything that makes me feel like I’m good person actually makes me a better person. When I feel like a good person, I take better care of myself, and when I take better care of myself, I’m happy and when I’m happy… well, I don’t know because I can’t say that I’ve ever been truly happy long enough to know what my potential is capable of. And that’s not a self-served pity statement, it’s the truth.
So, how is this not copping out on my dream to write? Because I don’t need anything on paper to freelance. I will have to bedazzle the fuck out of someone with actual writing (not this blog shit), but I’m willing to accept that challenge. I don’t want a job that requires a desk, a computer and editing skills. I don’t want a job that doesn’t give me creative room. If I rely entirely on a journalism degree, I know that’s the sort of job I’m looking at. However, I still plan on getting a degree in journalism to make my dream of writing easier to attain, the only difference is, I’m not resting my entire future on that particular piece of paper. I don’t have to be a journalist to write a book or research something and write about it. The way I see it, Nursing is a respectable career that pays well and can provide me with plenty of opportunity. Opportunity to pursue whatever I please. For obvious reasons, it also gives me something to write about.
Even if it’s not what I really want to do with my life, it’s not a desk job, or retail or a food industry job. It’s not boring, repetitive and habit-forming. I would actually have to remain alert and focused and aware of what I was doing. That can only have a positive affect on everything else I suck at. Despite the fact that I’ll have to experience death and immeasurable sadness (I am extremely susceptible to the emotions of those around me); I’ve built so much of my philosophy of life on emotional happenings and emotional survival, that it can only strengthen my character while simultaneously bringing me to my knees. And the idea that all of that pain could actually find it’s way to my pen… I just…. well, I feel terrible for saying that but it personally confirms that this “career decision” is a positive move. I haven’t even come close to taking a step in the right direction since… I don’t know when.
I honestly haven’t felt this motivated EVER. And regardless of the many things you’ve read on here about “I’m going to do this” or “I’m going to change this time” or whatever the fuck I felt like writing that day, this is something I’ve never felt in my entire life. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that getting a CNA doesn’t require a degree, it’s a program and it’s something I can do. I know that the real “financial support” lies in becoming an RN, but I have no problem building my way up to that. Especially if it gets me out of whatever the fuck I’ve been doing with my life the past ten years.
Anyhow, there is a point to all of this. I am giving in to the path less traveled. I am tired of saying I’m going to do something with no intention of actually doing it. I am tired of how I feel about myself and how I feel about other people. I am saying goodbye to the person I am and becoming someone entirely new. I would like to have respect for myself and feel free from personal burden.
But most of all, I would like to lay down at night and welcome positive thoughts to my pillow rather than feeling like a piece of shit failure, because I am not one.