It's a kind of shitty process that the world has created for, well, life.
"Hey bro, do me a favor and uh figure what the fuck you wanna do for the next 76 years of your life starting....now" said the world when I was 14.
I was still picking popcorn out of my mouth.
I didn't quite know myself enough to even fathom what I wanted my life to center around. High school didn't provide me with enough resources to draw conclusions either, though it's not its fault. When you go to an African-American high school, you get African-American curriculum.
By the way, I'm not African-American.
No one would've or should've concluded what I'd subsequently settle on nearly 6 years later. My passion for Super Smash Bros. Melee and Linkin Park would've hazed it instantly.
I wanna be a psychologist.
I realized this about 4 nights ago, after writing what has to be a 21-paragraph dissertation about money buying happiness for no one in particular. I'm still debating posting the sophisticated brain fart anywhere. And yet, I felt extremely satisfied having created it. Like a roundabout form of masturbation.
Like a roundabout form of masturbation.
I always had a penchant for it. Not masturbation but psychology. The only question was whether or not I had a strong enough liking for it. But after playing amateur psychologist for the past 2 weeks (A weird little experiment a future blog will soon explain), and the impromptu essay, I've solidified my choice. Being a writer will come with the territory, and of course, music is never a forgotten option. But psychology will be my weapon of choice.
Mostly because anything that is comparable to a fleshlight experience is deserving of my entire life's dedication.