KatieAtlas

I had a bit of an epiphany today.

It wasn’t meant to be an epiphany, and it wasn’t meant to be philosophical, and I had no intention of having a really deep conversation with Katelyn today. But I did.

It came at the right time. I was listening to Big D and the Kid’s Table rant on about living life with a checklist, after four days of extremely fucked up sleep (three nights barely able to fall asleep, and one sixteen hour snoozefest), and an entire afternoon of writing an essay on tyranny of all things.

What the fuck am I doing?

The back of my hand is blue with ink of all the things I need to do. I can’t remember the last time I took a shower, all I know is that I’m due, at least from the looks of me. I’m not eating all my meals. Time is never in numbers; it’s “in class” or “out of class” or “sunny” or “night.” I haven’t been brushing my teeth regularly, and not because I’ve neglected to, I can’t even remember to. Definitely no make up. Gym? What gym?

Katelyn was rather poignant:

She said exactly what I was thinking: I don’t know what I want to do with my life anymore.

Who the hell am I to abide by conventional standards? I was a good student, but beyond that,  as a kid I was never exactly one to follow the rules or normal conventions. Recently, I have continued to pave the way for this life (or “rebellion” as my mother would probably say.)

But really, when it boils down to it, I am definitely at a crossroads right now. I have no idea which direction to go in. I know that I want to go abroad, but do I really want to be in school and have to go back to school when it’s all said and done? Not only that, but my poor Nannie doesn’t want me going abroad. She concedes, “I’m being selfish, I want you here with me,” which is understandable. I love my grandmother, and I wish I spent more time with her. But really, why shouldn’t I go abroad? I have lived in the godforsaken bubble for all those years. It’s natural to be angst-y toward where ever you grew up, but I’m missing out on a lot. Even my dozen or so trips into Philly, and countless hours on busses, travelling with all walks of life, it’s been enlightening. I want to learn something about living, not what makes a business successful. I mean, think about it: businesses are going to exist whether they have my money or not. Many of them will outlive me. What does it matter if I understand all their ins and outs?

I want to write. I want to observe people. I want to ask them what they are doing with their lives, and drink coffee with them, and see their band play at the pub, and tell everyone else about their lives, no matter how outwardly insignificant it may seem.

Last week, I listened to two women talk about how they won the Pulitzer for some crazy investigative reporting on rogue cops in Philadelphia… What started off as something kind of small soon turned into this mammoth report, that lasted several years, and grew and grew and grew. Barbara and Wendy just CAPTIVATED me with their story, their adventure, their work! I was awestruck with how amazing it all was. I don’t want to go into exactly what they did, but they inspired me. I want people to know who I am, to remember me for something, to say “Hey, I like that. That’s cool.” I don’ t know if I can really do all that within the confines of Villanova.

What do I do here? Study for tests, read text books, examine ancient literature, wake up early, stay in on weekends, eat an inane amount of sandwiches (because God forbid there be any decent to above average food within walking distance, or even food worth eating), raise my hand, listen to people talk at me, and pretend to be school spirited, happy, and generally normal. (Notice how sleep is no where in that list.)

I have tried so hard to break the mold. I am going to the Steven Colbert/Jon Stewart rally this weekend, and I plan on interviewing strangers and taking a shit ton of pictures and soaking up all that America. Okay, so maybe that sounds a little cliche, but I am going to live it up, and experience that march/rally/insanity to its fullest. Last weekend I saw Phoenix play live at the Tower Theater; I got to dance on the stage. No joke, I danced on the stage. With Phoenix! I am ferociously writing letters, to as many people as I can, all the time. I am making plans for the future. Christmas break is filled with skiing in Utah, and in Canada, plus two concerts. I have an appointment on Tuesday with the office of International Studies so I can make plans for next year. My phone calendar is over flowing with seminars, meetings, and movie times. I am trying. God, I am trying.

But I still can’t help but feel like it’s all shit. I am still just a rat in a race, pretending to give a fuck so I don’t get beat down by my parents.

Honest to God, what am I doing? Where the hell am I really going to go from here?

At least, if I stopped everything and moved across the world, I would be conceding that I don’t know what I am doing and that I don’t know what I want. But if I stopped everything and moved across the world, I would still be doing something about my indifference/confusion.

I’ve always had it good, but I am positive I can live without a lot of it. If Facebook disappeared, it would be as if someone was doing me a favor. No car? No problem. Shave down my clothes, my collections of crap, any DVD I’ve ever touched, anything that could be considered fancy, and the illusions of awesome. I’m sick of it all, anyway. I want life to feel a little more real, a little less like a constant “Go get ‘em” and a little more like I’m actually alive.

Today I am a half dead college student, paying way too much in tuition, who has only developed my bull shitting skills since I cut my summer short in mid August.

Tomorrow? Well, maybe I’ll still be talking about nothing and selling out.