Headfirst For Halos

As I was sitting on my back porch with my 4-month-old kitten, Binx, yesterday, I had a sudden realization. All of the sudden, all of these intense feelings of relief washed over me, and I felt okay. It was like someone just flipped a switch. Yeah, it's been a rough semester. Hell, it's been a rough two and a half years, but I just realized how close I am to being finished with all of it. I've spent the last couple of months finding myself struggling with getting homework and assigned readings done and making failing quiz grades while my personal life crumbles and falls through the spaces between my fingers. All of this for what? A little piece of paper at the end of May that somehow justifies all the suffering it took to get it? It sounds silly, but somehow it's still important. 

But as I watched little Binx look out the screen door at the birds sitting in the trees, his head tilted to the side, I suddenly realized that the worst is over. I've only got about seven months left of this. Some of you might be thinking, "she should feel incredibly lucky to even be going to school" and "why would you want to graduate college in three years?" or maybe even "if you don't like what you're studying, just change your major". I'm not going to delve into specifics about the situation I'm in, but all I'll say is that I tried to take the easy way out back in my freshman year when choosing a major. I chose one that I thought would be easy, that I was good at, and that would help my parents to sleep soundly at night. It seems the only person I didn't make the decision for was myself, and now I'm paying for that. I'm good at what I study. I can knock out a research paper on a book I haven't read in about eight hours, but what is that going to ever do for me in the long run? Absolutely nothing. 

So instead of feeling defeated by my chosen field of academia, I sat down and wrote about the things that, however trivial, I am good at, and that make me feel good, because I firmly believe that I am not the grade I make on a midterm exam or a term paper, end of story. 

I've found that this same sense of defeat and hopelessness has been found among many people my age, and my good friend Madame Sosostris puts beautifully into words some of what I've been trying to articulate here as well: that you are not the grades you make, and that you should find the things that make you happy and run with them. 

After coming back inside from my porch-sit, I wrote down a few things so that I could keep my optimism alive, and that could hopefully inspire some in others, should they read them.

You're 20 years old, the start of a new decade.

You're no good at drawing,

you haven't got the physique of a model.

Hell, you're marginally attractive.

But you're damn good at working alone,

you're good at wearing black,

at dying your hair even when your parents say it looks awful.

You're good at swiping that red lipstick on

without a mirror.

You can call to follow up on that application,

and you're a beer pong champion.

You're a good listener.

You might be alone at 27,

or even 35,

but you'll be alright. 

You're gonna take on the world in a hail of bullets,

figuratively of course.

Just think happy thoughts.