Once again, I’m wondering if I should just get a mindless job, get a modest apartment, and give college a miss, completely against the wishes of anyone who had any kind of interest in my future. This depression arrives only 34 hours after the greatest vacation of my life. Maybe I should just go on the road forever…
Greatness. She wants nothing less. I don’t want to be great. I want to be happy.
Happy. Nothing more.
Despite that I know that I will always, as I have been doing, do as my mother wants because in the end her happiness is worth more than mine.
This was written by (or in the voice of) a 16-year-old. I reblog it because, at 22, I still struggle with living up to other people’s expectations.
My brother taught me to read when I was three. In school, I had always been in advanced classes. I remember my AP English 12 class in high school where we were required as part of a graded assignment to show the teacher three completed college applications. All my life, there was absolutely no doubt in anybody’s mind that I was going to college and that it was the best thing any person could do, and I never took the time to see it any other way. But if my post-high-school years have taught me anything, it’s this: I’m tired of school; I can’t stand to stay in one field for four years; and I enjoy mindless manual labor.
What keeps me in school is everybody else who ever knew me. My parents want me to finish. The college wants me to finish. My friends want me to at least stay until they graduate. Even my own self occasionally tells itself to push through, get that degree, and for once in my life finish something I start. And don’t disappoint the others.
No solid conclusions here. Just a message of solidarity: this happens to people all the time. We are not alone.
It kind of figures that I can only wake up early when I have nothing scheduled until 3pm.
Bill Engvall. Guest speaker at JLS 230 Humor Writing. This is the best course I have ever taken.
Notes on his talk:
If This Isn’t From My Memoirs, It Should Be
When I was in high school, the various elders in my life made clear what they expected of me: I was destined to attend university; and I might also become a musician.
By twelfth grade, I was already fed up with music and schooling. I entered college thinking I was already a failure.