This blog post is about the future.
No, not about the future- it’s about the present.
No, it’s about how the present will dictate our future. Is currently dictating our future. Which was once dictated by the past which was once our present and our current present will become the future which will in turn be dictated by this present which at that point will be the past and-
Wait, what the fuck am I saying?
I’ll give it another go, because I’m clearly on some kind of downwards word-spiral:
THE FUTURE IS COMING AND I’M SCARED OF IT HELP ME BEYONCE I DON’T THINK I’M READY FOR THIS JELLY
I am speaking on behalf of the generation of directionless youth that has been produced as a result of being too young to decide shit-all.
It’s true. To all you 30+ people out there, you guys are the lucky ones. Just know that. Embrace it. Drink to it. Let it bring you comforting dreams of stable salaries and healthcare plans.
I guess I can’t speak for all of us, but when it comes to my future, I’m a little bit like this:
Except you can’t run away from your future. Oh no, Cory from Boy Meets World, you can’t run.
But you can seduce it and make it feel stable and comfortable.
And then cheat the fuck out of it.
That’s been my way of living for going on six years now. I find a potential future, flirt with it a little, get to know it, buy it some drinks, enrol it in some classes, and then BAM.
Find a new one.
It’s so easy. I’m the Tiger Woods of Ambitions.
I leave that future lying in the dust of my newfound romance like Brad did to J-Aniston.
And I’m not even sorry.
My first chosen Future was a little childhood romance; I wanted to make it to Broadway. (I italicized the way because that’s how the pretentious New Yorkers say it).
I did everything right. I went to vocal competitions and kicked the shit out of the girls who always sang “Part of Your World” and sat on a beanbag chair wearing a mermaid tail for “authenticity.” Those poor unfortunate souls…
I got into an arts high school for musical theatre, and decided it was to be my first step on the road to the Big Apple. I walked into that school like a m********* g***** boss.
I quickly realized that not only was I a mediocre performer, but I couldn’t dance to save a baby from a burning building held captive by Satan himself.
Every time I tried to bust a move, I ended up making people cry with laughter. And then came grade 11, when we had to learn how to dance all seductive-like.
I tried, I really did.
By Grade 12, I had had enough. I sent my regards to Broadway, and left that dream in the gutter with the rest of the baby prostitutes to fester and die.
And I said, “You know what? Imma become a doctor. A mothafuckin doctah. There ain’t nothin more noble than savin’ people’s lives.”
So I tried that, more adult-like, future out for a while. And it was pretty sweet at first.
I was all like:
But honestly, it wasn’t that good in the sac. (By sac I mean sex-bed-of-love).
And by “wasn’t that good” I mean, “synthesizing organic compounds is really hard, and I also hate it.”
Science is hard- and not in the fun way 😦
So I kicked that dream out the door with a one-way ticket to Whore City. I assume it was responsible for the recent U of T sex party.
Then, I had an epiphany: I would become a psychologist! Psychology’s like science, but easy! And studying Freud is both gross and cool! I dove into that one head-first like a love-sick fool. But unfortunately that Future stabbed me in the back like a stupid crabs-ridden bitch. It was more of a one-night stand than a romance.
Because, as it turns out, crazy people like me should try to see a psychologist, not try to become one.
I was experiencing my first “It’s not you, it’s me” breakup.
I was distraught. Would I ever find The One? Or would I jump from Future to Future like a common sorority girl with a large chest size and low self-esteem?
Very soon afterwards, I fell into the arms of the most blissful of potential Futures. That of an English and Film major. I can hear you scoffing from here, you biochemists and international relations people with your “useful” degrees and your higher employability rates.
But you know what? I’m in love. With the brand new, happier me.
When I was doing all those other things, whether it be chemistry or vocal classes or psychoanalysis, I was never as happy in school as I am now.
Professors and registrars and parents and even friends will all tell you to pursue something “useful.” Something safe. And if you genuinely want to make a career of it and you know you’ll be happy, then go for it! But if you’re doing it simply because you’re scared of making mistakes, turn back now.
The world has forced us to make a lot of decisions very early in life. I was only 17 when I started university- I wasn’t even an adult, and yet people were letting me decide what I wanted to do with the rest of my life! It’s a flawed system, but sometimes you just have to break through the barrier of social expectations and see yourself and your dreams for what they really are:
I may not be going to med school, or getting a job in a psychology lab, but I’m way less stressed than when I was pursuing those things. I’m a strong believer that if something in your life isn’t making you happy, find out what it is and change it. Unfortunately, we live in a society that values quick decision-making and capitalist ends.
I don’t know where I’m going to end up, or where I’ll be working in ten years. All I know is that I’m in a field that I love, and that’s what matters. I refuse to ever feel like my life wasn’t under my control, and I hope that whoever reads this can take some sort of idea away from my blog: It’s scary to take risks, but it’s also thrilling. It’s thrilling to know that, if you work hard enough, if you’re passionate enough, and if you dream big enough, it just might work out for you.
In the words of the wisest children’s TV characters:
So don’t be afraid to sleep around until you find your brightest Future. Your life doesn’t have to be an arranged marriage- this isn’t a Jane Austen novel for Christ’s sake. And anyways, once you’ve found The One, you’ll never want anything else.