Harry Styles is at Fault
Okay. Not really… but I should point out that I finally cracked four days after seeing him in concert. This has happened before. It generally goes something like this: I buy concert tickets for musicians I like. I get really pumped about seeing them. The concerts take me to cloud nine. Everything about them: the music, of course, but also the lighting, the sound design, watching the drummers, the guitarists, the pianists playing their hearts out. Spotting the bands' photographers and then being fixated on them and what they’re doing the whole rest of the show rather than watching the musicians. Even just thinking about the crew- setting up the stage, thinking about the marketing of this concert and the whole tour, advertising, the social media accounts of the bands, the people who booked the events, the managers of the artists… every. last. detail. ENTHRALLED ME.
Needless to say, this happened after the Harry Styles show on June 30th. The next three days were filled with sore arms from pounding on my drums, callused fingers from the inability to put my guitar down, and probably carpal tunnel and pre-arthritis in my hands from how much I played the piano. And when I wasn’t playing, I was writing or listening. It’s like the musical part of me had been revived once again.
Then, the next day, which happened to be the fourth of July, it hit me. Music was and always had been a passion. I’d been ignoring it for the past year, two years, however long… Just like I was doing with plant-based nutrition, psychology and social work, video production, portraiture… everything. I have so many passions, and I realized that I'd tricked myself into thinking that I could only choose one to do for the rest of my life.
Needless to say, I freaked out. I must’ve cried for six hours that day. As much of a cliché as it is to put it this way, I feel that it’s fitting: In my head, I knew that staying at SCAD and getting my writing degree would be safe and easy. But in my heart, I knew I could not stay. I knew I would not be happy there. All of a sudden, I felt so trapped inside this box, and at the same time, I was terrified of what might happen if I stepped outside of its safety.
Lyric from "Trying" by Bully
The Box
Let’s talk about this “box” that I keep referring to. I am going to make it seem like a very negative thing, so let’s be clear on one thing: the box isn’t necessarily bad. I think the box is a metaphor for life after you receive your $50k-250k piece of paper that says “Congratulations, you can apply for this job now!”. A degree in dentistry would put you in a small box because there is approximately one career you can pursue with it. A degree in communications would put you in a large box because I can think for 10 jobs a communications degree could get off the top of my head.
Nonetheless, it is still a box. And people my age are programmed to take the path that puts them in a box. (Again, not necessarily a bad thing! Some people truly have a calling. They know what they want to do and they pursue it. Completely subjective. This is just the observation I’ve made.)
I’ve formulated a 10-step life guide for people my age who intend to pursue life inside a box.
- Go to elementary school and learn the basics of everything. Math. Science. Reading. Language. Art. Physical Activity. Music. Socialization. Respect.
- Go to middle school and dive a little deeper into all of these. But this time it’s way harder because you notice that boys and girls are attractive.
- Go to high school and start to get serious. Get way deeper into all these things, oh yeah and your hormones are fucking insane, and by the way you need to tell your far-from-fully-developed brain to decide what you want to do for the next 45 years of your life so that you can pick a college major that encompasses that dream of yours so that you can pick a college to go to for the next four years so that you can read about how to do something and take lecture notes on it too so that you can get a piece of paper that lets you apply for this job now but you still might not get it even after 4-8 years and $50k-250k.
- Put all you learned in step 3 into action and actually go to college and get your really expensive paper.
- Get a job.
- Make money.
- Have a family, because that’s the American dream, right?
- Raise your kids; guide them along the same path that you took because THAT IS THE ONLY WAY.
- Retire (if you’re lucky).
- Die.
I told you I was going to make it sound negative. I also told you it doesn’t have to be. Here’s why.
Perri, you idiot, have you even considered the fact that maybe some people can be legitimately happy in life by having a dog and living in a studio apartment and working as a receptionist at an architecture firm? Have you thought about the people who are fully content with their husbands and two kids and jobs as a financial advisor? How about the people who feel fulfilled with just their wives and their unanimous decision not to have kids and to keep the jobs at the telemarking companies that they met at for life? Because those people exist. And it feels like you’re discrediting them and their education when you say they’re trapped in a box.
For the record, nobody said that to me. I am talking to myself again. For good reason, though; I want to make it clear that a box is a very fulfilling and fitting thing for a lot of people. Different things make different people happy. I’m just trying to figure out what that is for me. I haven’t figured out what it is yet, but I have figured out what it is not.
Here’s what I do know:
- my job has to be my passion.
- I might have to order new business cards every few years because my job title is very subject to change.
- There may sometimes be no job title that fits.
- the “Ten Year Plan” just isn’t going to work for me.
- I’m glad that I realized this now rather than after I got a degree.
- I am kind of scared, but I'm gonna do it anyway.
Wish me luck.
(Stay tuned for Part Three: Where I'm Going)