why did nobody tell me

Devyn at one of our Forsyth hammock sessions.

Before I moved down to Savannah, I was given several heads ups and a lot of advice about a plethora of dilemmas I might encounter during my first year living away from home. I was told that having a roommate would suck at first, and was given advice what to do if my roommate and I ended up hating each other (we didn't). I was told about how hard finals week would be and to start studying at least two weeks in advance unless I wanted to make a C grade at best (it wasn't; I didn't; I made A's and B's). I was told that all my free time would be consumed by homework assignments and it would be way more work than high school (it's not...yet). I got plenty of advice on just about everything that is not a concern for me. My grades were pretty good, and my classes this past year weren't super hard (at least not any more so than my AP high school classes). I did have a fair amount of free time, which I loved. It usually was filled with unplanned trips to Tybee Island Beach for some fresh air and warm sun or to Forsyth Park for a hammock session. I had minimal personal problems with my roommate(s). In fact, I really like them. Not a big issue. However, two of them have left SCAD by the end of the school year for unrelated reasons, so then it was just myself and Olivia. That's where my first real problem came up. A problem that I didn't anticipate, and a problem that nobody warned me about. I really didn't have friends there. Why did nobody tell me it would be so difficult to make friends?

Okay, wait, please don't get the wrong idea. I was friendly with people in my classes. I knew the names of some of the students that I frequently sat next to. I talked to my classmates during the breaks, and I even had a few of their phone numbers in my phone. I had no problem making class companions, but that's not what I mean when I say "friends". I mean friends as in people who I go get dinner with at one of the dining halls. People that I ask to go to the SCAD coffee shop to do homework. Someone who comes to the beach with me or tries a new club with. Someone who will save up for a few weeks with me just to go to a new restaurant for a treat. (Of course, Olivia is all of these things, and we get along so well! But she would have been my roommate this coming year and was this past year, so I'm going to exclude her from this because she's been my friend since before school even started and will probably be for a long time to come as well.) I seriously didn't make any friends that I felt remotely close to. Or any new what-I-would-consider-to-be friends at all, for that matter. This may come as a surprise to some of you if you know me personally; not to toot my own horn or anything, but I'm pretty easy to get along with. That's why I surprised myself when I realized that I really hadn't made any new friends after coming back to school post-spring break. Why was this such a struggle for me? I started thinking...

Name repetition, personality mirroring, and never breaking off a handshake.

Let's get one thing straight: I know how to make people like me. I've learned this skill from a combination of personal experience, psychology class, and The Office's very own Andy Bernard. (Name repetition, personality mirroring, and never breaking off a handshake.) But really, it's easy to make people like you. Smiling, intent listening and engagement, asking questions and showing interest can go a very long way. But if I'm being completely honest, I hate this stage of making friends. The smalltalk stage. Friendships have to start somewhere and the most common advice I've heard over the years on starting new friendships is just to strike up a conversation. This method of making friends sucks for introverts. I hate small talk. This probably will sound kinda rude and I'm even a little disappointed in myself for being this way, but I simply could not care less about those first few topics of discussion: I don't care about how your dog got its name and I don't care that your 3D Design teacher is crazy and I don't care that you had a great aunt that participated in the Olympics. As interesting as these things might be to some people, these aren't things that I can ever see myself being interested in hearing about. But... you'd never know that. I'm great at acting like I really care because I know that people really appreciate a good listener and someone who will make them feel validated. I think this listening skill is part of the reason that I've become a confidant to so many of my friends over the past several years. But really, it's hard for me to sincerely care most of the time. And it sounds so bad when I put it into writing like this.

I don't want it to seem like I'm being totally inconsiderate or anything. I sincerely do love the look on someone's face when they begin speaking about something that they're really passionate about. The way that their eyes light up and their voice carries so much enthusiasm. That's the best. People don't get to do that nearly enough, so I like to let people talk when they get into that mode. But sometimes, it's hard to actually care what they're talking about. For one thing, this is just a huge introvert characteristic and I am a huge introvert (88% introverted according to the IPIP-NEO personality test). We hate small talk. I'd rather talk about important stuff. Not to be one of those "I wanna talk about the universe and philosophy" kind of girls who thinks she's really deep, but you know what I mean. I just get bored.

Me on my escape into the bathroom so to not have to socialize during the last 15 minutes of class

So here's my dilemma. When meeting new people I tend to put myself in this situation of coming off as a person that people generally like but they can't really put their finger on the reason why. (It's because I listen intently, which not nearly enough people do. And I feel like I have bragging rights about this quality of mine because it took a LOT of time and willpower to make myself a good listener.) So they really like me, but they have this idea of who I am because of what I come off as, and that's not really who I am. I also kind of set myself up for disappointment because I really like when people ask questions back to kinda balance out the conversation, but when they only talk about themselves, even if it's prompted by me, I just get bored. I'm showing all this interest in something that I'm uninterested in, I'm bored listening to someone else talk the whole time and sitting there feeling like the conversation is one-sided, and I'm giving this person a false idea of what I'm really like as a friend. When this person and I get on the next level of friendship and I begin to show less interest in them and more interest in topics that I have a genuine interest in, that's when I feel like things will go downhill. I don't want people to think I'm rude, or a bad friend. I just am SO INTROVERTED and it shows when I talk about the weather vs when I talk about my favorite movie. One of the topics is spoken about with a lot more enthusiasm.

Am I overthinking this??? Am I inconsiderate? Is this just what adult friendships are? I'm friendly with so many people, but that's so different from being real friends with someone that you're comfortable with. Someone who is easy to be around and with whom you can be yourself. Is that too much to ask!? Are my expectations too high? Am I just not going to find friends who share similar interests to me and who I don't have to talk about family traditions with? 

Back home, I have a lot of people that I can be myself around simply because there is less social pressure. I think that part of this is just a freshman year thing. We're all so concerned about not looking stupid.

Usually, I end blog posts like this with some sort of conclusion about the lesson I learned and some advice to anyone going through a similar situation. But this time, I'm the person who needs the advice. I haven't figured this one out yet, and I'm feeling kind of pathetic for making something that should be so easy into such a challenge. I guess all I can say for now is that I'll just keep being friendly with people as I always am, but also try to be more real with people. Balance it somewhere in the middle. We'll see how this goes. 

part three: where i'm going

My Planner is Color Coded

I have ALWAYS been organized. In the past few years, it’s gotten obsessive. Every event, appointment, job, social gathering, or personal errand I run/attend/make happen is entered into my Google calendar as well as handwritten in .05mm Black Micron felt tip pen and then highlighted with the color that corresponds to the activity type. Pink is personal appointments, purple is social events, orange is work, yellow is school, green is exercise and yoga, blue is homework, and grey is other. I have every confirmed function in my planner within seconds of it being confirmed. I have events planned out a year in advance at times. I am rarely late and I always know where I’m supposed to be. 

My world is about to be flipped up-side down.

Stepping outside the box immediately knocks having a time sensitive schedule off the list of things to be concerned about. The reality is that I just can’t plan for what is going to happen in the next few months ahead of time like I love to do. (I’m pretty pissed that I already have every single SCAD class for ten weeks starting on 10 September written and highlighted in my planner.) I’m going to have to start writing in pencil now, and although it’s going to take some getting used to, I think it will ultimately be good for me. I think I need to take opportunities that arise and make last minute decisions. I need to allow change to happen because change is a catalyst for growth. 

“Be Brave.”

So, here we go. I know I’m probably going to get asked by all the inquisitive adults who were asking me what college I was going to a year ago what my new plan is. I hate to disappoint, but unfortunately I just don’t know. I’m going to talk to as many people as I can, take what opportunities I can get, continue to build a portfolio and resumé, and see where life takes me. And if I don’t like it, I’ll change directions again. I am in charge, and I'm gonna figure this out.

Here is my wake up call, my leap of faith, my 180 degree turn. If I don’t do it now, I might never. In the words of the most influential person of my life, Joe Frontier: “I learned the most about how to teach kids by teaching kids, not by learning how to teach kids.” In other words, I have to go and learn by doing, not by letting someone tell me how to do it. (AGAIN I’M NOT SAYING THAT’S ALL COLLEGE TEACHES YOU. There’s so much more but I’m making a sacrifice of general education classes and the social aspects of college for something I find a lot more interesting.) I’m just gonna go do… even if the introverted/judging aspects of INFJ are telling me not to… gotta follow the F on this one.

I’m not going to pretend to be all tough, okay? I can’t put up that façade. This is going to be hard enough on its own, I don’t need the weight of a titanium wall leaning up against me too. I’m fucking scared. But the reality is, I’d be scared either way. Sure, I find a small amount of comfort in the people who would tell me that college was the right thing, and who would continue to do so if I decided to continue on with it. But it’s like putting a band aid on a scratch. It covers up the problem, but it’s still there, suffocating, unable to heal because the air can’t touch it. 

I have to rip off the band aid and realize that a life of dissatisfaction and being unfulfilled is MUCH scarier than stepping outside the box.

Here goes… everything.

To Joe Frontier: Thank you for seeing something in me that for the longest time I didn’t see in myself (and maybe still don’t see but I trust your judgement) Thank you for showing me that there are other options. Thank you for your patience and your honesty and your kindness. 

To my mom and dad: Thank you for believing in me. I’ve always just wanted to make you proud.

part two: why i'm here

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.

1. Go to elementary school and learn the basics of everything. Math. Science. Reading. Language. Art. Physical Activity. Music. Socialization. Respect.
2. 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.
3. 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.
4. Put all you learned in step 3 into action and actually go to college and get your really expensive paper.
5. Get a job.
6. Make money.
7. Have a family, because that’s the American dream, right?
8. Raise your kids; guide them along the same path that you took because THAT IS THE ONLY WAY.
9. Retire (if you’re lucky).
10. 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)

latency

final photo project for photo 113 at scad.

spring 2018.