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Jul. 31st, 2005
The other day I came to the startling realization that this time next year I'll be going away to university. And I still have no idea where I want to go.
So today I started looking around at different schools and came, fairly quickly, to the depressing conclusion that there is nowhere that I want to go. At all.
I've mostly been dealing with it by not dealing with it because that's easiest, just putting it off, but I have to start thinking about it now and it's so full of expectations. Like there's a man at every university waving a flag, screaming "LIFE GOALS! WHAT'RE YER LIFE GOALS? Tell me, kid, what do you want to do with your life? Tell me your dreams!" And there's someone at the back who says "I want to be a linguist, and major in Russian!" "Wonderful! To the majoring-in-Russian line, out the back! And good luck getting a job there, mate, you're gonna need it. What about you, kid?" "Well I- I want to put babies on spikes!" "GO, THEN! That's the University dream, babies on spikes! And what about you?"
And I just kind of stand there and scuff my feet and say very quietly "Don't know sir, sorry sir."
And the Flag-Waving Man is aghast. "You don't KNOW? My God, child, everyone in the whole world other than you is born knowing exactly what they want to do with their lives down to the last fiddly little detail! What's wrong with YOU then, eh?"
"Don't know sir. Sorry sir."
"Well we'll sort through this somehow, I guess, you fucking freak of nature!" (This is of course said in a jolly booming sort of voice.) "What're you interested in?"
"Um. Books sir. And films and music. But mostly books."
"BOOKS! Wonderful things, I hear! Alright, you're going to become a librarian!"
"But... I don't want to do that, sir."
"Fucking hell, you're picky. Alright. You like films? Why then you can be a film actor! You'll work with Sean Connery and James Mason who is God and-"
"I can't act sir."
"Can't ACT?"
"No sir. Sorry sir."
"You're pretty useless, aren't you? Fine then. You like music? You can become a musician! And play guitar and tour with Bowie and-"
"Can't play music sir. Got a tin ear sir."
"Right then. You've got to move around to this line here, where all the indecisive rejects who'll end up making slippers in a factory for the rest of their lives stand. Go, then! Make slippers for your fellow man!"
"But sir, I don't want to make sli-"
"No use arguing now, you should've majored in Russian like the sensible people. WHO'S NEXT?"
It's very upsetting. That's the only word I can use to describe it. Profoundly, intensely upsetting.
(And Izzardian, because I watched Dressed To Kill for the first time today and it seems to have rubbed off a bit.)
So today I started looking around at different schools and came, fairly quickly, to the depressing conclusion that there is nowhere that I want to go. At all.
I've mostly been dealing with it by not dealing with it because that's easiest, just putting it off, but I have to start thinking about it now and it's so full of expectations. Like there's a man at every university waving a flag, screaming "LIFE GOALS! WHAT'RE YER LIFE GOALS? Tell me, kid, what do you want to do with your life? Tell me your dreams!" And there's someone at the back who says "I want to be a linguist, and major in Russian!" "Wonderful! To the majoring-in-Russian line, out the back! And good luck getting a job there, mate, you're gonna need it. What about you, kid?" "Well I- I want to put babies on spikes!" "GO, THEN! That's the University dream, babies on spikes! And what about you?"
And I just kind of stand there and scuff my feet and say very quietly "Don't know sir, sorry sir."
And the Flag-Waving Man is aghast. "You don't KNOW? My God, child, everyone in the whole world other than you is born knowing exactly what they want to do with their lives down to the last fiddly little detail! What's wrong with YOU then, eh?"
"Don't know sir. Sorry sir."
"Well we'll sort through this somehow, I guess, you fucking freak of nature!" (This is of course said in a jolly booming sort of voice.) "What're you interested in?"
"Um. Books sir. And films and music. But mostly books."
"BOOKS! Wonderful things, I hear! Alright, you're going to become a librarian!"
"But... I don't want to do that, sir."
"Fucking hell, you're picky. Alright. You like films? Why then you can be a film actor! You'll work with Sean Connery and James Mason who is God and-"
"I can't act sir."
"Can't ACT?"
"No sir. Sorry sir."
"You're pretty useless, aren't you? Fine then. You like music? You can become a musician! And play guitar and tour with Bowie and-"
"Can't play music sir. Got a tin ear sir."
"Right then. You've got to move around to this line here, where all the indecisive rejects who'll end up making slippers in a factory for the rest of their lives stand. Go, then! Make slippers for your fellow man!"
"But sir, I don't want to make sli-"
"No use arguing now, you should've majored in Russian like the sensible people. WHO'S NEXT?"
It's very upsetting. That's the only word I can use to describe it. Profoundly, intensely upsetting.
(And Izzardian, because I watched Dressed To Kill for the first time today and it seems to have rubbed off a bit.)