I like to think of myself as a stable minded girl. The fact that I like to think of myself that way doesn't make it the least bit true, but let's not split hairs. So anyway, I was going through one of my non-stable-minded episodes (which sometimes last considerable amounts of time. Hey, I'm a college student.), and I came to the non-conclusion that I just...can't freaking decide whether I want to grow up or stay young.
I know this might seem like a typical 20-something woe, but hear me out. I'm literally completely torn about this. I think part of it might be the fact that I've perfected indecision to an art form, but really. Being 24 years old and almost the proud recipient of two bachelor's degrees, I'm kind of right on the cusp of real adulthood. Sure, I can already drink and sign contracts and I can almost rent a car, but those are only the tangibles of being "grown", as our parents would put it. And that's really the thing isn't it? Adulthood is a place where the tangibles pale in comparison to the intangibles--those things that just...are...about being grown. Paying your own bills. Moving out from under your parents. Having adult problems like meeting rent and programming your own VCR.
Wait...maybe not that last one.
Everything above was written this past summer, when I was about to graduate college (in August) and I was thinking that maybe now is the time where I'll grow up and be successful and suddenly become an adult, as I put it above.
But alas, I am still unemployed (not really a shocker in 2013 America), I still live off of credit cards, my mom still pays my rent (she now sends a check here to California instead of going online to pay my rent for my student apartment in Texas). It's been nearly 8 months since I graduated with honors (3.7 GPA) in two different disciplines from a pretty respectable university, and I'm still feeling like a child.
Why? Because no one actually cares whether you were top of your class or if you barely scraped by with C's all the way through. They want you to have gone to college, but how you did? That doesn't matter as long as you have that piece of paper that says you were good enough for them to give it to you (which, in reality, doesn't have to be all that good. Trust me.) I've only ever had one job application ask for my GPA, and that was for a teller job at a credit union, which leads me to believe they just want to know whether you can do math with any sort of proficiency. Want to know the hilarious part? I can add/subtract/multiply/divide (basically middle school level, though now that I think about it, some of the stuff I did in AP in middle school would blow my mind now...). That's it, though.
Yes, now go back up and re-read the part where I said I graduated with honors. With a degree in business, and another one in psychology, both heavy in statistics, probability, and mathematical prediction of outcomes. But I can't do derivatives or integrals or proofs or any of that stuff they call advanced or 'elevated' math. Sure, I could do it when it was required of me on an exam, but as soon as I walked out the door from taking said exam, I walked toward my next class and whatever 'knowledge' I'd used to get an A on that exam walked in the opposite direction and out of my life forever.
What is the point of this little side rant in the last two paragraphs? And more importantly, what is the point of this post? Well, let's recap: Is being an 'adult' a level achieved by completing a certain series of steps? And, if so, why don't the steps behind you matter once you've leveled-up in the game of life? If we're talking about actual steps--stairs in a building--the point of those is to get to where you want to be--namely, the second (third, fourth, fifth, etc.) floor. You can look back down at them and thank them for getting you there, because without them, it would have been impossible. There is no other conceivable way for a human who doesn't fly to get from the bottom to the top, except to put one foot in front of the other, step after step, in a logical progression.
But wait. What about elevators? A rope tied to a balcony? Climbing up a tower of your peers?
Therein lies the point I'm trying to make. Throughout my life, I applied myself to climbing the socially accepted Steps to Adulthood: do well in high school, spread yourself over tons of extra-curriculars so colleges know you can multitask, get accepted to a good college, spread yourself even thinner with extra-curriculars plus heavier schoolwork (which sometimes ends up being totally useless 'busy-work' anyway, sorry), graduate with a high GPA to impress potential employers, go forth and make millions. Society tells us that this is what WILL happen if you complete all the steps. You need only to ascend one step for the next to be presented to you, ready to be conquered as well. Obviously, I'm still having trouble with that last part.
Why is this? Because our institutionalized perception of success is not in any way reflective of the real world.
I made a post a while ago about how school isn't like the real world. Well, the real world isn't like The Real World that school tells you about either. People become successful even if they skipped steps, or--shocking--even if they chose not to follow them at all. Some people choose the elevator to success, some choose to climb a tower of their peers. Does this diminish the value of their success in others' eyes? That's up for debate. Does it diminish the tangible value of their success? Snooki still has more money than I'll ever have, and I'm pretty sure she got to the second floor by way of teleportation. She's still considered an adult by the intangibles: she can pay her rent, she can relax with her baby without any worries whether she can feed it, she's independent and successful. But so are Rachel Maddow, Ariana Huffington, J.K. Rowling, and Ellen Degeneres. The key is: does your chosen path diminish the value of your success in your own eyes?
If and when I am successful (and when I figure out what I want to be successful at, because hey, sometimes people forget that part and just skip to the huge house and fancy cars), I want to be able to look back and value the path I used to get there. Can I truly say I believe in the steps I took? That remains to be seen. However, looking back on my life, I can't say I'd change any of it. Even though now I think the steps are kind of ridiculous and rigid, I clung to them so earnestly for the last 25 years that I find it extremely hard to discount them completely. I think, now, it's what I make of it, and how I tell my adoring literary fans someday that even though I nearly failed out of Calculus my senior year of high school, I still found my niche and they will too. You just have to believe in your path. More importantly, you have to believe in yourself and your ability walk it.
Or ride it, or fly it, or climb it...
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