The Fucked Up Circle of Friendship: Chapter 1: Questy Questions and Question Stuff

Alert. Here is a personal entry that contains many juicy details of my oh-so-thrilling life. So if you are really into stalking me, you just hit the jackpot. Hell yea!

A lot of shit has gone down in the past month, culminating in a really traumatic week and now a lot of big life decision making time. My favorite kind of time! ...Not! Anyway, as usual, I feel the need to share way too many personal things with the world in order to sort out my crazy time head. Once I began this entry I realized it would be quite long and would take me awhile to write, considering it is not just a process in organizing thoughts and ideas, but also a process in trying to solve my life problems and be funny (aka random) all at the same time. Soooo I decided to split some things up epic novel style so I could keep the world updated and keep writing and make you all entertained and stuff. Are you entertained yet? Probably not. Proceed (with caution) to find nuggets of joy.

Chapter 1: The Mystic Questioner of Questy Questions and Question Stuff 

At the end of last May, I ran away home to Colorado for a week and had a pretty awesome time. I saw lots of super friendly friends, I worked a little bit at my previous crazy-day-camp employer (meaning more friends! Hooray!), I had romantic entanglements with a boy....Overall the trip was pretty nice. Being around all these friends and coworkers and people that made me feel cared for after living in a place where I feel disconnected on a constant basis was like magical unicorns eating ravioli in pesto sauce. In other words it was the best. I felt very much like I was meant to be there. You may remember in one of my recent entries that I discussed how aforementioned boy was making me a little crazy-pants. Well, to be honest the whole trip overall made me more crazy-pants, if that was at all possible. While I was at home during such a time, the mystic questioner of questy questions and question stuff appeared to me in a soft, fuzzy vision kind of like kittens or those really soft sheepskin rugs they sell at Costco. He waved his mystic staff and placed questions in my head to contemplate. Such as why is California so pretty in movies but so ugly in real life? Why don't prairie dogs wear little bow-ties so people like them better? What am I doing with my life? Why am I thinking about prairie dogs in bow-ties? And most importantly, am I in the right place right now? Should I leave school in California?

There was once a time when I was really talented at being a totally bitchy goodie two shoes who thought she was superior to everyone else and was going to rise to the top while everyone else floundered because they didn't work as hard as she did... Ok, so I still kind of am talented at being that person... except without the goodie two shoes part. What can I say? I love doing my irresponsible things in life these days. The point is that when I was younger, I thought my life would go like this:

1. Get good grades in high school.
2. Go to a well known, reputable college
3. Graduate from college and get a good, steady job.
4. Do things like travel and live comfortably.
5. Buy a house
6. One day get married and have a family.
7. Be really successful and have plenty of money.
8. Retire or something I guess.

Even though I still wanted to be a unique person, I was too afraid to think of my life being anything but at least somewhat comfortable. I never wanted to stray from the life I always knew or the responsible, mature person I had always been. (Ok maybe not so mature sometimes). I always thought that playing by the rules and fitting society's expectations would help me become the "successful one," whatever that was. Well, I got as far as getting good grades in high school before I started to become jaded. Big surprise there. Even though all of these things sound nice, when I list them above it makes me feel a little sick. Have you ever heard of a more boring and less badass life? Sure, I wanted to get out of town and go to an out of state college to make sure I wouldn't end up in a straight shot to a mediocre suburban life where I never grew or changed or experienced real things, but even when I stepped slightly off the mundane middle class highway and decided to go to art school, my biggest aspiration was just "to work at Pixar," which is one of the most well known, most desired, and most steady studios you could ever be employed at. I could not get any more generic... I mean, don't get me wrong, if Pixar knocked on my door and offered me a job right now I'd totally take it. But I like to think I can dream bigger.

A lot has changed since then. I want to live a very different life as much as I can, not just for the sake of excitement but also for the sake of inspiration. If I don't have a more pathetic and troubling life, how will I ever keep writing whiny blog entries?!? Sometimes I have trouble accepting the fact that the future I want might mean giving up a few luxuries. You mean I can't always have a 2,000+ sq foot house, a nice car, full insurance coverage, money to dye my hair and buy chai all the time, and the ability to get on a plane and go wherever I want, whenever I want? What is this, Soviet Russia?!? I've found that being where I am now has not given me the life I am aiming for. I constantly stare at computer screens hoping for people to talk to me, sit in traffic, and bounce back and forth between the same four places every day. With not enough lovely people of life-filled gladliness filling the gaps of mundane-ness (just made those words up), my life has become exactly what I always feared it would be. Turns out all those steps I took to be awesome didn't really turn out so awesome. It's like when you find a recipe on tumblr and attempt to make it and generally just end up with a pan full of half-burnt goop...That right there is my life in a half-burnt goop nutshell.

The point is, the person I always thought would be most ideal for me to be and the person I want to become now are very different. Even the things I wanted to do versus what I want to do with my life now are different. I still want to be creative, but I certainly don't think being a Disney-style animator or some worker drone in a studio is going to be a fun, happy muffin kind of time. It is especially hard for me to watch all the lame-os I went to high school with beginning to graduate and go to grad school or get real jobs and be like, the real adult people and stuff I've always imagined myself being. I still make fart jokes and pick my nose on a regular basis. Let's just say I haven't exactly grown up in the way I had envisioned.

Being home made all these warm fuzzy feelings of belonging rise up in me and I had a million questions buzzing around in my head like bees attacking a poor, helpless version of Winnie the Pooh that was allergic to bee stings, thanks to my mystical vision (Or was it just drugs? We may never know). I loved being around my friends so much and everything felt so right. I started contemplating leaving school and coming home, pursuing my own projects, being the person that I wanted to be and not the depressed, morose sack of human flesh that I felt like in California (albeit a really muscular and hardcore sack of human flesh ). Could coming back to Colorado be my answer? Would I be happy? Would it help me fix my problems? Would I find life and connections? Would I be able to rekindle the love I once had for art and animation, the drive to create something amazing and inspiring? There were many things to consider, what with stupid boy feelings and my unending restlessness seemingly clouding my vision. I had to figure that shit out, which was tough to do after only one week of perspective. I needed to return to Colorado for more answers. So that is just what I did...

Stay tuned for more personal adventure times in Chapter 2:  Waiter, There is an Answer in my Soup* (Trust me, that'll be the segment with all the juice!)


* Title pending on if I think of something less stupid and more clever, which will most likely not happen.