When is it that people decide what to do with the rest of their lives? I ask because this event/revelation has not occurred in my life.
Was there some sort of seminar I missed?
It probably happened during my freshman orientation where I attended only one event (the first one) and spent the rest of the time
playing cards, shooting pool, and sleeping on a
ping pong table.¹ Clearly, that was a poor life decision.
If I had only attended that session, I would have answers for the constant barrage of questions being sent my way:
So are you going back to school? What about a new job? Applying to anything interesting? What are you going to get a Master’s in? Are you going to school again? Why’d you leave your old job? And the one after that? What schools are you going to apply to? You are going back to school, right?² It never ends.
Every time I see anyone, I’m forced to address these questions, and it’s getting on my nerves. Yes, I understand that when you were five you found a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest and then proceeded to (attempt to) nurse it back to health, thus solidifying your desire to suffer through medical school and become a doctor and save all the lives of the sickly world until the chick died, at which point you did consider pathology as a specialty since the worst you could do in that position is bring someone back to life, but after serious thought and going through college you’ve settled on internal medicine. That sounds super-great for you. Really, it does.
I’m not really sure what it is, but the more people hassle me about this issue, the less likely I’ll make a decision anytime soon. I can be quite contrary when the conditions are right. It’s quite the involuntary reaction in me, much like squinting in the glare of the sun. Unfortunately for me, this means that I’m quite paralyzed in making the decision that would answer all of the aforementioned questions.
I am going to have to make one soon though.
¹
I don’t normally sleep on ping pong tables in the presence of people I’ve just met. However, I had just returned from the Philippines two days earlier and was still quite jet-lagged. ² In case you’re wondering, my answers are: I don’t know. I don’t know. No. I don’t know. I don’t know. People annoy me. People piss me off. I don’t know. I don’t know.
Here is the evidence of my addiction. I'm not quite sure that Nancy Reagan had this in mind when she told me to "Just Say No." I doubt that my nearest rehab clinic offers a service for a shoe problem. I've only included shoes I actually like in this collage, just in case you're wondering about the lack of certain types of shoes (i.e. heels). While I do own footwear of the painful kind, they are there only out of necessity; and as much as I'd like to, I can't exactly go to job interviews wearing Dunks.
