I've always had a great drive to be successful.
Maybe it was getting that awesome fuzzy feeling of accomplishment the first time I created something that affected someone else (like the story I wrote in fourth grade that made my teacher cry). Or maybe it was my mom saying 'you're going to buy me a house when you make your millions, right?'. Or maybe it was all those piano competitions I was in (and won) until I was 16; the ones that made me want to scratch my competitors eyes out when their swirly Mozart came anywhere close to touching my epic Beethoven.
Now I realize it's nothing really in particular, but all of these things molded together into a huge, scary, slimy, bright pink monster under my bed named Get Everything Or Go Home. That's probably why I've been sleeping on the couch so much lately - so that I don't have to hear it whisper things like, "You're going to work at Payless Shoes for the rest of your life if you don't go to graduate school and write a thesis that assures you tenure track at a prestigious university in St. Petersburg where you will conduct research that will win you a Nobel Prize by the time you're 40." And I'm not gonna lie. The thought of growing old surrounded by discount plastic pumps absolutely terrifies me.
With all that said, I have no idea what I'm doing. What happened to my need to succeed? I don't remember firing her! Why did it take me the better part of four years to decide what to major in? And now I may be changing it again! Why is the world bent on success and money and jobs and security and work and all that jazz?
For the past few months I've been telling everyone, and myself, that I don't need a full-blown career, because I want to do something interesting and fun and significant and cool. I can't event sit at a desk long enough to write a blog post - let alone for the rest of my life. I've convinced myself that I don't need security (in money, insurance, etc.) because I want to live life on the edge. But honestly, I'm just terrified of not having any of those things.
I like having internet and heat and carbonated water and the slightly higher-grade Ramen and shampoo and oil-free moisturizer. These things have a certain value, set by a certain market, which can only be accessed with a certain amount of money, honey. I like going to the doctor when I feel like my abdomen is about to explode all over my stairwell, which I can only do until I'm twenty-six years old while I'm still in school and under my mom's health insurance. Otherwise it costs a lot of money, honey.
So... this means I'll actually have to work for a living. Doing something. Hopefully something that won't make me kill myself. I love film, and writing, and film, and fashion, and film. Is there such thing as a fashion-movie screenwriter?
If not, there will be.
ps - I'm going to see Lady Gaga in September. Not bad for my first concert, eh?