Plan B...because Plan A is Fast Unraveling
Growing up sucks big balls.
In my mind, this whole concept of "becoming an adult" should end when people turn 21.
I mean...if being able to legally drink urself into a blur of spinning rooms, highly questionnable behavior, and entirely disgraceful life choices is not a sign of being a full fledged adult...then damnit...i just dunno what is.
The way i see it, 21 would have been the perfect time to throw my hands up and declare with confident finality "well! I'm all done being an adult now! Its been real!".
but ohhh no.
the years had to keep comin'...and with each year came new responsibilites....new problems....a new set of seemingly unanswerable questions ("wait. do i really have to pay this bill? and this one too? wait. is this a joke? daddy? hello? DADDY!? did he hang up??").
like, its been kinda weird.....working full-time and pretending like it's a normal or an acceptable lifestyle for me. Keepin' this facade...this "anyone who's a real adult works full time" charade is incredibly exhausting. Mostly because i know it isnt true. For one, Paris Hilton doesnt work fulltime. She hobbies fulltime. Oprah doesnt work fulltime. She makes money equal to the GDP of a reasonably large country fulltime. Major, major difference folks.
like ,this one time, i saw 70 hrs on a timesheet and then right after that, i blinked and saw my name on the same timesheet. apparently, i'd blanked out midweek and gone into a zombie like trance as i picked cotton in the hot blazin' sun while Mr.Overseer whipped me across my sweaty back and kicked me in the stomach when i fell.
Also, for no good reason i can tell....and usually when i'm really tired & thinking of plucking out each of my individual eyelashes... my boss will stroll by my office and casually say over his shoulder .... "see ya saturday!" the same way one would say "nice shirt!" except the latter leaves one feeling fuzzy while the former leaves one feelin grizzly.
Usually when i'm busy looking for a pair of scissors...a letter opener...a rusted nail...anything. ...to gouge my eyes out... i think to myself "what's up with this guy? doesn't he know that I can just up and quit? What am i...a modern day african slave? I mean, I'm only doing this 'cuz i wanna. not 'cuz I need to or anything. Once summer's over...i'm going back to sch---. oh shit. wait. I graduated! oh shit, shit, SHIT....I havent even applied for that Phd in Fashion @ the University of China in Madagascar that'll buy me 5 extra years of doing much of nothing but reading glossy magazines & pretending to be smarter than the average while using really big words when ordering pizza or something else just as mundane...like...."the texture of this eggshell white cheese pizza against this alizarin...or is it maroon-sangria colored sauce...Falu red...thats it!... will so totally inspire my organza with lamé & tulle creation".
.....
The way i see it, if i must continue to be an adult, then i must be an adult who lunches, shops, and occassionally dabbles in botox treatments...just for the crow's feet around the eyes...nothing excessive....and says to the nanny..."you woke me up at noon to tell me there was a medium sized fire in the kitchen? what? you can't handle these things?"....kinda adult.
No, really, in all seriousness...this is my plan B.
...
No. really.
In my mind, this whole concept of "becoming an adult" should end when people turn 21.
I mean...if being able to legally drink urself into a blur of spinning rooms, highly questionnable behavior, and entirely disgraceful life choices is not a sign of being a full fledged adult...then damnit...i just dunno what is.
The way i see it, 21 would have been the perfect time to throw my hands up and declare with confident finality "well! I'm all done being an adult now! Its been real!".
but ohhh no.
the years had to keep comin'...and with each year came new responsibilites....new problems....a new set of seemingly unanswerable questions ("wait. do i really have to pay this bill? and this one too? wait. is this a joke? daddy? hello? DADDY!? did he hang up??").
like, its been kinda weird.....working full-time and pretending like it's a normal or an acceptable lifestyle for me. Keepin' this facade...this "anyone who's a real adult works full time" charade is incredibly exhausting. Mostly because i know it isnt true. For one, Paris Hilton doesnt work fulltime. She hobbies fulltime. Oprah doesnt work fulltime. She makes money equal to the GDP of a reasonably large country fulltime. Major, major difference folks.
like ,this one time, i saw 70 hrs on a timesheet and then right after that, i blinked and saw my name on the same timesheet. apparently, i'd blanked out midweek and gone into a zombie like trance as i picked cotton in the hot blazin' sun while Mr.Overseer whipped me across my sweaty back and kicked me in the stomach when i fell.
Also, for no good reason i can tell....and usually when i'm really tired & thinking of plucking out each of my individual eyelashes... my boss will stroll by my office and casually say over his shoulder .... "see ya saturday!" the same way one would say "nice shirt!" except the latter leaves one feeling fuzzy while the former leaves one feelin grizzly.
Usually when i'm busy looking for a pair of scissors...a letter opener...a rusted nail...anything. ...to gouge my eyes out... i think to myself "what's up with this guy? doesn't he know that I can just up and quit? What am i...a modern day african slave? I mean, I'm only doing this 'cuz i wanna. not 'cuz I need to or anything. Once summer's over...i'm going back to sch---. oh shit. wait. I graduated! oh shit, shit, SHIT....I havent even applied for that Phd in Fashion @ the University of China in Madagascar that'll buy me 5 extra years of doing much of nothing but reading glossy magazines & pretending to be smarter than the average while using really big words when ordering pizza or something else just as mundane...like...."the texture of this eggshell white cheese pizza against this alizarin...or is it maroon-sangria colored sauce...Falu red...thats it!... will so totally inspire my organza with lamé & tulle creation".
.....
The way i see it, if i must continue to be an adult, then i must be an adult who lunches, shops, and occassionally dabbles in botox treatments...just for the crow's feet around the eyes...nothing excessive....and says to the nanny..."you woke me up at noon to tell me there was a medium sized fire in the kitchen? what? you can't handle these things?"....kinda adult.
No, really, in all seriousness...this is my plan B.
...
No. really.
posted by AfroPosh at 8:34 AM
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