What if I can't do it?

I'm plagued by this question. I'm 22, and feeling very much like I'm having to make decisions and start thinking about things that I'm not ready for.

I'm right now (for whatever reason) on the UT MBA site, and thinking about the very idea of going to graduate school. Joe did it- in spades. He got in to a great school (well, the aforementioned great school) and has done amazingly.

I want to do well. I want nothing more than to throw myself into something and be rewarded for doing so. But I can't help but think that I'm maybe not up to it. What if I can't do it? What if I can't make it in a male-dominated industry? What if I can't handle the math side of getting an MBA? What if I don't get a good internship or job? What if I don't make friends?

Maybe it's justification for the surfeit of TV in my life, but I think there is validity in TV and movies, and what they have to say. I say this because, all during this failure-centric thought process, this section from Finding Forrester has been running through my mind:

" Someone I once knew wrote that we walk away from our dreams.afraid that we may fail, or worse yet,afraid we may succeed."

I don't know what the answer is. Maybe it's just "work hard" and maybe the answer will kind of.... find me, once I find the right thing I'm supposed to do with my next few years. I don't want to be an aimless wanderer.

I think it's all so daunting because there's no "safe place" anymore. It's this feeling like treading water.... with no end in sight. You can't just... stop. I have to keep working, keep advancing, keep preparing for the future.

I'm so paralyzed by it all. And meanwhile, I want nothing more than to write for online magazines, and I do nothing. partly "afraid that I might fail, but worse yet, afraid that I might succeed." But to be honest, a big part of it is just laziness. And that's sad. But if you don't try, you can't fail. It's easier not to try. For so many reasons.

Brie.

I'm not a hummus and raw green pepper kind of girl. Let me explain.

I just finished living with someone for one year who was (or at least wanted to be, and thus pretended to be) the type of person that had friends over for "dinner" and they would eat hummus, sliced green pepper and expensive Brie. I guess that's fine for the Whole Foods set, but I was always marginally uncomfortable around these people. I felt like we had to compare Anthropologie findings and talk about the respective qualities of Pottery Barn vs. Pier One candlesticks. I should add, for the record, that living with this girl was a hugely miserable experience and contributed in very large part to one of the hardest years of my life.

Tonight..... I had my people over. We mixed Tequila Sunrises before we ordered pizza, and ate that and drank gin and tonics while we watched three episodes of LOST. No pretense, no bullshit about triple cream brie. Fun was had by all, and I think that tonight, we will all go to bed resting assured that we don't have giant sticks up our asses.

Mother's Day

Just a quick thought. I'm so confused when I hear girls my age say how much they want to have children right now. I don't understand it. This phase of life, and I'm not being glib about this, is about selfishness. Outside of work, your time is your own, the money you make is your own, and you are allowed to do with it what you please. And I adore this. I can read, or blog, or stay up all night, or have the freedom to make unwise decisions. I'm not ready to give that up. I think it's that freedom that has helped me to figure out who I am and what I want. While those kinds of things can never be determined in a vacuum- not having other human lives depending on you helps.

I'm also very scared by the prospect of having children. I say this because I've seen and know moms who in all honesty don't like their kids. Growing up, I didn't know that people like this existed. I was naive, and gladly so about the existence of unfit and unloving parents.

At lunch today in the office, one woman said that what she wants for Mother's Day is for everyone to get out of her house. And I immediately thought what my mom would say if she were asked what she wanted for mother's day. I could picture it at once because it's something I've heard her say many times before. She would say (and I know she'd be tearing up while she said it): "I just wish the three of you could all be home." As a mother, what she wants for mother's day is just to be close to her kids. And while my parents weren't perfect (whose were?), we always knew we were loved. And I don't know I'd be thinking that about my mom if she just wanted me gone on Mother's Day.

I feel that I wandered off into to separate points there, but oh well. I'm thankful for my Mom, and hope that I can be like her.

I never write anymore.

I just don't. And I don't exactly know why. I mean, there are any number of logical reasons. Writing is active, and reading and tv watching are passive. It takes work, and effort and giving of myself and introspection, and I guess at the end of sitting in front of a computer emailing people I don't like, and creating presentations for still other people I don't like, I don't have the emotional energy to come home and give more of myself.

I think that's true on some level. On another level, I think that's a huge cop-out. I think the "desire to write" vs. "actually writing" (metaphorically speaking) is the very thing that separates mediocrity from excellence. Those who excel are those who recognize the easy, passive pleasures and instead choose the active, creative functions instead.

Maybe I don't write out of fear of failure. Fear that what I'm writing isn't as good as it could be, or as good as the writing of others is. I realize this is silly. Everyone can't only engage in the things that they are already good at. Simple logic begs the question of how these people get good at these things. The answer, obviously, is some mix of natural giftedness and hard work.

In the back of my mind, I keep thinking that one day, I'll find one thing I want to do, whether that be write a book or go to graduate school, and that one thing will provide me with all the motivation I need to slog through the daily hard work of achieving that goal. And while that's a nice idea, I just don't think it's true, or has much bearing on reality. Yes, I think there are some goals that will better suit me, and for these things, I'll have a greater desire to work. But I think the other part of this is creating the motivation where none exists. I think this is just part and parcel of working towards something longterm, but this is just also part of maturity. Putting off something you want now for something you've wanted for years of your life, and something that will benefit you for years to come.

This is one of those principles I grasp rationally, but am only very slowly coming to grasp it in actuality. I think it's something I mull over because I'm terrified of the day when I don't care about this anymore, and am perfectly happy to settle for mediocrity. I think most like-minded college graduates have a deeply instilled sense of purpose, and drive, and desire, and these qualities are very much nurtured in college. A rude awakening, then, to come into the corporate world, at the bottom rung of the ladder, when creativity is rarely encouraged, and the intelligence and hard work that got you in the door is so little utilized.

So, this is a step for me. Writing out my thoughts on.... writing. But also on creativity, and the act of creating. I hope it's something that becomes a habit in my life, and the act in and of itself will keep me away from the ever present pull of passivity and mediocrity.

Sigh.

All I want in life is someone to sing the Ben Folds part while I sing the Regina Spektor part.

Eat, Pray, Love, Part 2

I think I' m honing in a bit more on what bugs me about this book. I think Gilbert approaches basic human emotions as if she were the first one ever to experience them. And while I understand that they are meaningful to her, I guess I would like to see some indebtedness to.... humanity? Just some recognition that- oh, this has to be trite- I just know it is, but it felt new to me...

But she lacks that. And her writing thus has an air of pretentiousness that I assume is unintended. More to follow.

Something something art.

Here's my short thought (sparked by reading Elizabeth Gilbert's "Eat Pray Love"): Is all art self-serving to some degree?

I read her book, and for many a reason, don't fully connect with it, partially because I think her style of narrative is self-serving. But I know this is inherent in non-fiction, especially non-fiction memoirs. But is it more than just that? Don't many people create art to record something of themselves, or for the catharsis? Aren't these things, then, self-serving.

I don't know. Just curious.