So, What Am I Doing With My Life?

Being a writer and all I thought it might be nice for me to spend some more time actually writing on this little blog of mine (in between my life altering musings on fashion week, of course). So, here we go... And, please be a dear and let me know your thoughts... I feel a little bit insane rambling on to no one in particular (not that this would be a rare occurrence...) 

So, lately I’ve been experiencing this little, nagging, hooded figure of an emotion that I like to call “life plan paranoia.” It’s a bit of a mood killer, this emotion, as it slips into my mind, drowning confidence and excitement, clasping its little E.T. like fingers around my throat whispering, “What are you doing with your life, Jessica?” “Don’t you know you’re going to end up old and wrinkly (the worst of all) having done none of the things you’d dreamed of?”

I’ve always been told that the twenties are supposed to be a great time: your boob’s are only gonna get saggier from here on out (which is quite depressing but apparently meant to make you enjoy them now... which, how do you “enjoy” them anyways? take nude pictures? wear slutty tops?), you’ve never heard of the word mortgage and your body can still withstand binge drinking Saturday nights. 

But amidst this revelry, your twenties are also the time that dreams suddenly deflate. Once you enter the “real” world dreams aren’t just fluffy, abstract things you ramble off when someone asks you what you’re passionate about, dreams are now concrete things to pursue. They’re no longer supposed to be pretty, now they’re supposed to pay the bills. They’re no longer supposed to be imaginative and romantic, now they’re supposed to have good hours and a 401k.

And so, to be frank, this is why I am pissed off at the twenties right now: they have single-handedly smashed and mangled dreams and processed them into what adulthood is all about: practicality, responsibility and anti-wrinkle eye creams.  

As someone who has always found comfort in following the logical steps of success (get good grades, get into a good college, pick your major, vomit licorice and vodka in the sorority foyer after a night at the college bar, graduate, watch your parents smile, get good job) I’m struggling with just where this phase of “what the hell am I doing and how do I avoid hating my life?” is supposed to fit in. 


I suppose its proper place is in between college graduation and finding your “dream job” but as I’ve been listening to friends and acquaintances it seems that some people never outgrow the phase at all. Some people land the job they’re supposed to, the job they’ve taken logical steps to get to, the job with dental and fun holiday parties, but they’re still left wondering to themselves: when does this start to feel like a realized dream?

It has me wondering: is it better to sit around and figure it out, or just start dancing and hope you pick the choreography up along the way? 

And, if you’re sitting out, what are you supposed to look for anyways? How will you realize that this job will lead to ultimate happiness and a salary that affords Chanel?

And lastly, how did I ever become entitled to following my "dreams?" What does it say about me, and some may argue my generation, that I feel obligated to only pursue a career that excites me, engages me, makes the most of my talents, and makes me feel sparkly inside? 

Of course, one can only sit around and watch the song and dance for so long before you get thrown into the musical mix, but what if you get thrown into the wrong song? the wrong dance? what if choosing that job, taking that easy route, following the prescribed routine, makes you feel good for now, but ultimately leaves you unhappy?

It feels, as I sit here with frozen toes tucked under my comforter and a hydrating mask on my face, that all of these questions have to be answered right this moment. It feels, as I sit here wondering if the diet soda I’m sipping will give me cancer (or worse, cellulite) like I am sitting in a room where the walls are spinning around me.

I know the optimistic phrases and pieces of advice I'm supposed to know: there's no set way to reach your goals, every one's path is different, do what you love and success will follow (unless, of course, you've chosen creative career paths like someone I know... cough), life's about the journey not the destination, save a horse ride a cowboy, yada yada... 

People keep telling me that things work out and opportunities arise. Not only is this the most annoying piece of encouragement to receive, it’s also pretty impossible to refute. Of course things will work out, life will march on, I will find some job that is good for me... but that’s not the principle concern. 

The real question is which path will be great; which path will only reshape the romantic and fluffy dreams I’ve always had instead of deflating them altogether? Because that, of course, is the path I’d like to take.