I'm currently at the Claremont Hotel Bar, drinking scotch and getting a little more work done for the day.
As much as I wish I actually lived this Mad Men-esque lifestyle (sans womanizing and false identity), I'm actually here because I dropped off my friends at a career fair. Yes, my budding little college buddies are in "real person" training, working on their
I find it a little ironic. I did literally nothing to prepare for real life, but I was handed a job that I should be waaaay more grateful for. I sit and complain about waking up early and having to use my brain for 10 hours a day, but do you remember how crazy it was to even imagine having a job someday? All the career fairs and workshops and resume building. It was like you needed to figure out your entire life the day after graduation.
I was looking through my computer for a work file, but I came across an article I wrote when I applied to write for the Daily Cal.
I didn't get the job, which was a God-send because having a responsibility in college would really cut into my "do abso-fuckin-lutely nothing" time. For those of you who know me, you'll notice there are a couple white lies here and there.
A couple takeaways after I read this:
- I can't write for shit anymore
- I repeat a lot of crap in this blog
- You aren't what you do. Who you are, truly are, depends on what you do with what you're given. We aren't guaranteed our dream job right away, but the only way to get closer is to take advantage of every opportunity thrown our way. Everything happens for a reason - make sure that reason is a good one.
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Perfectly Boring
Yesterday, while my roommate and
I were enjoying a lavish and nutritious dinner of Spaghetti-o’s and beer, she
paused between bites and asked, “Am I boring?”
How the hell do you answer that?
Better yet, how do you answer
that without sounding fake? Now my roommate is anything but boring. Works a
full time job with 17 units and still
manages a good human to textbook contact ratio. She’s incredibly passionate
about what she does and no two days are alike because she goes into each day
wanting something new.
So, here’s the dilemma. How do
you convince someone they’re awesome without shamelessly singing their praises?
For some reason, we’ve all gotten into the habit of finding more truth in
criticism than praise. I tried enumerating the many things I admired about her
and what she does, but it was going to take more than “I don’t fall into a coma
when you speak,” to convince her.
So, as a last resort, I asked,
“Well, what’s your definition of boring?” A few moments of silence and she replied,
“I don’t know. Something that isn’t interesting, I guess.” I decided to play
asshole’s advocate and asked what she thought “being interesting” meant. A
couple more annoying generic questions produced a satisfying definition: to be
boring means to not want anything for yourself.
Now, there’s a difference between
wanting something and wanting something for yourself. You can want to go to
Cal, you can want to go to grad school, you can want world domination. But why do
you want it and who do you want it for? If it’s to impress people, save your
time. These days people are impressed by cat videos and planking. What will happen
when you finally get what you want? Will you come to a stand still or will it present
new opportunities to grow?
From freshman year of high school
or even before, we start getting lectured and “taught” how to build a good résumé.
We must be (of course) “well-rounded.” Oh, that keyword we all know and love. Résumés,
college apps, what have you, are supposed to show how smart and, well,
interesting we are.
At a young age, we’re
taught/convinced/fooled into thinking that one needs X amount of volunteer
hours, be president of 4 clubs, cure cancer, and compose 2 (perhaps 3)
symphonies to even be on our way to a decent résumé. In high school, I, too,
fell victim to this myth and signed up for debate, dance team, Amnesty
International, and band. I volunteered at a nursing home and a soup kitchen,
and played three varsity sports while maintaining a respectable GPA.
Six college rejection letters
later, I found myself signing up for community college classes wondering where
I went wrong. I did what I was told. I hit every category, rounded every edge
of my being as well as possible.
I just had to sit down with my
older sister and my application and asked her to pinpoint exactly where I went
wrong. I was the ideal candidate. I had it all, right? She mulled it over, set
it down and simply said that I had given her a grocery list when I should have
given her a menu.
With a little consideration, my
sister’s unusual and cryptic criticism made me realize that my I gave her a
list of things that I’ve done, a checklist of skills I have but haven’t
synthesized into something I could offer a university. You don’t feed someone
ingredients; you give them well-prepared dish that reveals the chef’s
familiarity with each ingredient, which ones work well together, and how to
accentuate only the best flavors.
I could play an instrument, but
did I love music? I won races, but was I an athlete? I had some mean jazz hands,
but was I a dancer? I was too busy being Mrs. Potato Head, interchanging pieces
in the appropriate holes to make it look “right” when I should have been the
MegaZord from Power Rangers, joining my strengths and my best attributes into a
powerful, unstoppable force of good.
Don’t lie. That metaphor landed.
Obsessing over being the ideal
student or being “perfect” is an insane waste of time because perfection is an
instant, not a state of being. If perfection were a destination, we would
eventually come to a stop. Seeing it as a moment in time keeps us moving, keeps
us working toward the next time everything in our world just clicks and we find
a new opportunity to grow.
Perfection is that moment when
you find that one incorrect decimal place and come out with the right answer.
Perfection is when you declare your major. Perfection is when you know what you
want, not necessarily how to get it.
Einstein said, “Life is like
riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.”
You aren’t your résumé. It’s a
piece of paper that can be tossed out, thrown away, outdated. Your ideals and perception
of perfection should evolve with you because you won’t ever reach perfection.
You meet it. When you do, cherish it, embrace it, remember it, because in an
instant, it’ll pass, ready for the next game of hide and seek.
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Thanks for reading.
Ang
