Silly Little List

“So what do you want to do?”

Whenever this question was asked, I felt the angst inside me swell with reflexive alertness, searching for the most convenient escape from the perceived danger of a discussion, that was actually, in all reality, a completely harmless and frankly polite gesture. Maybe this uneasiness expanded inside me because I genuinely had no idea, which would be an admission of an extreme uncertainty, an otherness in today’s day and age where self-fulfillment is most attractive, the pressure to achieve your most ambitious dreams almost oppressive. Or maybe, I really did know the answer, but this discomfort emerged from my hesitation to reveal it, as to do so would invite further questions that would inevitably lead to conversations I would not be prepared to have - therein my lack of experience or inadequacy in whatever self-proclaimed field of study or profession would be exposed.

The scene from Good Will Hunting sparked a response that met my lips before my brain was able to even process it.

“Oh a shepherd.”

“A what?”

“Oh you know, I will acquire some big piece of land and tend to my sheep. I hear there is a lack of women in that field anyhow.”

Laughter erupted. And for a minute, I felt the angst inside me - which had bundled itself tight around my chest and into my temples - relax and settle at my toes. It was then I decided that in the event of an unexpected inquiring confrontation, I wanted this escape route to always be an option. I started a list in the notes app of my phone, a list of careers that would either be so preposterous or far-fetched enough to divert the attention away from any sort of legitimate introspection the inquirer initially hoped to get out of me. Online dating ghostwriter. Wild animal babysitter. Runway model (I am five feet tall). Public restroom critic. Astronaut. Dark romance novelist (honestly who knows). Nail polish namer. Uber driver (I still find this one enticing).

“Yeah I have put a lot of thought into it and keep coming back to a sign language interpreter. I was greatly inspired by Rihanna’s ASL interpreter during the Super Bowl halftime show.”

And this was not to mock anyone who had ever asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and certainly not to mock any of these actually very real career choices at all - it was rather to calm myself down whilst getting a kick out of the reaction to the unexpectedness. This list grew and became pretty well known amongst my family as a little joke and I still reference it often. (Although it is very embarrassing when my dad will bring up my desire to be a shepherd in front of strangers or new company who do not quite grasp the attempt at witticism).

Naturally, as a rising senior, it is this time where I am actually required to - instead of making jokes - actually grapple with the root of this problem, an insecurity revolving around my unresolved identity. I often feel boring, like I lack some sort of depth - this feeling plausibly stemming from my addiction to melodramatic novels, but nonetheless - that everyone around me has.

I was having a hard time the other day - it was a bad day and bad days weigh significantly more during the summertime in my opinion, where there is the option to completely isolate. And so I did, residing locked in my room in my bed, avoiding any and all interactions. No matter how accustomed I become to these types of days, I am still surprised by the heaviness of them. My eyes were squeezed shut as the spiraling began when my dad called me. He was at work, so he had to have taken the time out of his busy day to tell me whatever it was, so I picked up, anticipating some level of importance.

“You know I was thinking about how the other day I saw some kids on the beach struggling to get their kite up in the air and it just came to me… you should become a professional kite launcher!”

I laughed and felt the tension that bounded my muscles like a tight knot release. We got into some sort of conversation about helium balloons lifting the kite - genius if you ask me - and by the end of the conversation my restlessness had given up and trudged out of my bedroom door. He must have known I was having a hard time and thoughtfully distracted me.

I am not sure when this list will no longer be necessary, when I will have an answer, a sure one to share with whoever I come across. I mean, I am sure I will be able to communicate like a normal human being and can engage in meaningful and intellectual conversations on this topic someday. But for now, I like my silly little list.

Love, El.