Before we get into this, let me inform you readers that I am not, in any way, a writer. But why let that stop me?
Four years of high school and 18 years of life have taught me a couple of things.
The most important lessons seem to fly over people’s heads.
We forget that our high school drama is limited to the short time-span of our high school years. Which means I had to sit through four years of Twitter and Facebook posts riddled with complaining and negativity. We all did.
Girls crying about guys. Guys whining about girls. Frankly, it annoys me beyond belief. I don’t understand how people can fret over little things like that. For some strange reason, I doubt when they are 40 and homeless, they will be saying, “If only I didn’t get upset about Sally insulting me. Oh, woe is me.”
A fight or argument I had my sophomore year will not affect me when I’m 40 or any other age.
We need to understand the world does not stop moving because something bad happens to us.
The world keeps on going when we get Fs. The world keeps on going when we get speeding tickets. The world keeps on going, even when we get dumped.
We need to wake up and start fixing our own problems before complaining.
Work hard and do extra credit. Get a job and put in long hours to pay off the ticket. Don’t worry about your ex, many more people will come along, hopefully.
The more you worry and concern yourself with little nuances, the worse it will get.
Take the most repetitive question you will ever hear in high school, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” I’ve hated that question for as long as I can remember.
I dream of working with a camera for decades, but as a career? I have no clue. I gave off-the-wall answers: pro wrestler, police officer, photographer, director, actor or whatever interest I had on my mind that week.
At best, I gave a shrug.
Why worry and stress out about a choice, which supposedly determines the rest of your life, at the age of 18?
I’m still unsure about what I want to do when I’m older.
Just as Daria from the old cartoon show said, “My goal is not to wake up at 40 with the bitter realization that I’ve wasted my life on a job I hate because I was forced to decide on a career in my teens.”
Point is, I don’t care — not right now at least. I still have a good chunk of my life to figure out exactly what I want to do to make me happy, to sit back and enjoy the rest of the best four years of my life.