My "goal in life" changes a lot. I get that I'm young, so it's expected to do that, but it's still off-putting. It's my own fault, too. Back when I was (what I believe to be) depressed, I began planning everything. I thought I knew how my life was going to turn out. I was going to grow up, meet a guy right out of college, fall in love, have a kid, and be the successful American dream woman, balancing my home and career. Once I snapped out of it (rather, once I moved in with my mother and got away from the source of my depression), I realized that none of that really makes sense.
Why the hell did I try to plan my life out? Who knows when I'll meet the love of my life? I mean, I could've met him already and not even know it! Besides that, I don't even want children. What kind of awful crack was I on?
At that point in my life, I'd decided I wanted to be a high school history teacher, just like my uncle. I figured I liked history, and all my favorite teachers reminded me of me, so why not? There were lots of reasons not. If I didn't like learning to standardized tests, why did I think I would enjoy teaching to those same standardized tests? I have issues with authority figures even when I agree with them. That situation wouldn't have ended well at all.
The issue with realizing that I was in a really bad place back then and wasn't thinking straight is that now I know that I, you know, don't know anything. I know I don't want kids, but that's about it. I get that I'm a selfish human being who doesn't want to set her career back, and I know that I want to fall in love. That's just about the extent of my knowledge of myself. Not even kidding.
I take career suggestion tests all the time because I have no clue what I want to do with my life. Actually, that's not true- I have clues. Lots and lots of clues. A veritable ocean of clues. In all honesty, there are more fields I'm interested in than there are followers of this blog (not saying a whole lot, but you get the message).
"You should work with computers." A lot of people suggest that. My step-dad told me I should do something where I can "analyze the shit outta something." I agree whole-heartedly. My Mimi wants me to go into a field in which I can use my knowledge to the best of my ability. She wants me to be a doctor. Doesn't matter that I hate biology and can't stand studying cells- she's convinced I should be a doctor and find the cure for cancer.
I kinda want to do something involving law enforcement. I like the idea of catching the bad guy. I've looked into jobs where I could analyze things like JT suggested, and it seems like criminal psychology would be a good bet for me. I don't like the idea of saying, "I want to do this!" because it seems whenever I become certain of something, I lose interest or it floats away.
Slightly philosophical blog posts FTW?
I'd love comments on if you know what you want to be "when you grow up," even if you're an adult. I love asking these kinds of questions. One time I asked an attorney and he said he wanted to grow up and be the Grinch. (He was kinda strange.)
About the Author
- Artemis.
- One of those crazy teen blogger types. Completely bribe-able with coffee. An INTP.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Thursday, October 14, 2010
My Zombie Apocalypse Bug Out Bag
I was surfing through the Zombie Survival Wiki and came across this brilliant little euphemism: the Bug Out Bag (link in title of post). I call it a euphemism because I think a far more appropriate name would be the "Holy Shit! Zombies! IMMA GET OUTTA HURR! Bag." But I digress.
Range Weapons: Slingshot (for rocks), JT's gun/ammo,
Melee Weapons: Hammer,
Food & Water: Bottle of Gatorade, bottle of Coke, two bottles of water, vitamins, jar of peanut butter, English muffins,
Lighting: Flashlight, candles, keychain with LED light,
Information: Two notebooks, pens, pencils,
Communication: Walkie-talkies and spare batteries, cell phone and charger,
Survival: Whistle (rape or survival, doesn't matter), mini-mirror,
Clothing: Spare jeans, jacket (worn, not carried, if possible), socks, spare tennis shoes
Camp Kitchen: Fork, spoon, bowl, empty can,
Fire Starting: Lighter, matches, second notebook
Entertainment: Playing cards, Apples to Apples To Go,
Hunting/Fishing: Heh. Crap. Whoops. Next.
Optics: Glasses, spare glasses, prescription sunglasses in the case,
Personal Hygiene: Toothbrush, toothpaste, chapstick, small bottle of hand sanitizer,
Shelter: Fuzzy red blanket, small pillow,
Maintenance/Tools: Glasses cleaner and cloth,
Repair Kit/Supplies: Duct tape, scissors, super glue, pocketknife with the little mini-tool things, two screwdrivers (different heads)
First Aid Kit: Band-aids, hydrogen peroxide, gauze, Tylenol,
Carrier or Bag: Purple hiking backpack thing,
Other/Special: Pepper spray,
Range Weapons: Slingshot (for rocks), JT's gun/ammo,
Melee Weapons: Hammer,
Food & Water: Bottle of Gatorade, bottle of Coke, two bottles of water, vitamins, jar of peanut butter, English muffins,
Lighting: Flashlight, candles, keychain with LED light,
Information: Two notebooks, pens, pencils,
Communication: Walkie-talkies and spare batteries, cell phone and charger,
Survival: Whistle (rape or survival, doesn't matter), mini-mirror,
Clothing: Spare jeans, jacket (worn, not carried, if possible), socks, spare tennis shoes
Camp Kitchen: Fork, spoon, bowl, empty can,
Fire Starting: Lighter, matches, second notebook
Entertainment: Playing cards, Apples to Apples To Go,
Hunting/Fishing: Heh. Crap. Whoops. Next.
Optics: Glasses, spare glasses, prescription sunglasses in the case,
Personal Hygiene: Toothbrush, toothpaste, chapstick, small bottle of hand sanitizer,
Shelter: Fuzzy red blanket, small pillow,
Maintenance/Tools: Glasses cleaner and cloth,
Repair Kit/Supplies: Duct tape, scissors, super glue, pocketknife with the little mini-tool things, two screwdrivers (different heads)
First Aid Kit: Band-aids, hydrogen peroxide, gauze, Tylenol,
Carrier or Bag: Purple hiking backpack thing,
Other/Special: Pepper spray,
Sunday, October 3, 2010
Ten Reasons My Friend Xeno Kicks Ass
Well, I have this friend. His name is Grayson, but I don't allow anyone to call him that. If you meet him, you have to call him Xeno, otherwise I may or may not crucify him. He and I have only seen each other in real life a few times, and have only had one physical conversation, but we're pretty tight online. Thank you, Facebook. A few moments ago, I told Xeno to give me something to blog about. He told me to write about my badass eighth grade friend who can't spell for shit. I told him I'd get right on that.
1. He's a criminal mastermind.
Xeno is what most people would call unethical or immoral. He prefers other words, like "commie" and "awesome," but I know the truth. All this means he has a black hole where his heart should be. In a good way.
2. He's freakin' hilarious.
This Xeno guy makes me laugh. Really hard. In the face. He and I have exactly three metric shit-tons of inside jokes, and the end is anything but near. Honestly, if Xeno were a comedian, he would... okay, so maybe he wouldn't be too successful, but I'd totally download illegal versions of his albums from the Pirate Bay. (I joke! I would never do such a thing! Heh.)
3. He doesn't make fun of my Britishisms.
He really can't make fun of my British spellings and slang, otherwise he'd be a complete and utter hypocrite, but I still appreciate that he doesn't insist on American word usage. It gets irritating when I'm innocently (or not-incredibly-innocently, if you count certain conversations I've had) chatting away on Facebook and someone nails me with a "You spelled that wrong! It's 'organize,' not 'organise!'" and I have to point out that they are, in fact, a cultural jackass.
4. He's open about himself.
Almost scarily so. Xeno is not afraid to tell anyone certain things about himself (or so it seems to me, the chick who hides with her secrets in the shadows of the alleyways off the streets of society). Since we first spoke (or, rather, typed) with each other, he has told me many things that, if I were him, I would have kept under lock and key.
5. He doesn't tell me to eat meat.
Not once has Xeno told me that I "have to" eat meat. This is quite the feat, as most people are constantly telling me that there's no way I'm getting enough protein without ingesting flesh (despite the fact that I actually get more protein than your average fleshy, or meat-eater, most of the time). Xeno honestly just doesn't give a shit what I eat.
6. He gave me a present.
He's threatened to give me a number of gifts (a machete, a vibrator, and the beginning of the zombie apocalypse, to name a few), but a few days ago Xeno actually went through with it! I am now the proud owner of a pocketknife. It has a little scissor thingy that amuses me to no end. That is all on this topic.
7. He lets me ramble.
Most people give me about thirty seconds to ramble and then decide to cut me short with an "Artemis, get to the damn point already." Not Xeno. Today he actually encouraged me to tell him a story about my cats. Encouraged! The fact that Xeno allows me to ramble without cutting me off makes me enormously happy.
8. He uses proper grammar.
Most of the time, that is. Xeno also has this tendency to use proper capitalisation, something almost unheard of here on the internets. I have a feeling that if he didn't suck at typing, he would probably spell things correctly as well. As it is, he frequently makes typos and has been known to say such things as, "Fuck typing."
9. He understands the word "privacy."
Xeno gets that some people don't share everything. There are even a few things about Xeno that I don't know. There are (for sure) a lot of things about me that Xeno doesn't know, and unlike some people (ahem, I'm talking to you, Pretty Princess), he doesn't demand that I inform him of my every little thing. Granted, I usually bitch to him about most things anyways, but it's nice to know that he understands secrecy.
10. He makes awesome cookies.
I'm not even kidding. Xeno is the Queen of Baked Goods. I swear to God, he must put, like, unicorn blood and magic in his cookies. And crushed sleeping pills, because after I ate about twelve the other day, I was exhausted. Those chocolate chip cookies are definitely in my list of the top ten tastiest things I've ever eaten.
Those are the ten (main) reasons my friend Xeno kicks ass, even though he's a muffinfucking jackwagon communist who deserves to burn in Hell.
1. He's a criminal mastermind.
Xeno is what most people would call unethical or immoral. He prefers other words, like "commie" and "awesome," but I know the truth. All this means he has a black hole where his heart should be. In a good way.
2. He's freakin' hilarious.
This Xeno guy makes me laugh. Really hard. In the face. He and I have exactly three metric shit-tons of inside jokes, and the end is anything but near. Honestly, if Xeno were a comedian, he would... okay, so maybe he wouldn't be too successful, but I'd totally download illegal versions of his albums from the Pirate Bay. (I joke! I would never do such a thing! Heh.)
3. He doesn't make fun of my Britishisms.
He really can't make fun of my British spellings and slang, otherwise he'd be a complete and utter hypocrite, but I still appreciate that he doesn't insist on American word usage. It gets irritating when I'm innocently (or not-incredibly-innocently, if you count certain conversations I've had) chatting away on Facebook and someone nails me with a "You spelled that wrong! It's 'organize,' not 'organise!'" and I have to point out that they are, in fact, a cultural jackass.
4. He's open about himself.
Almost scarily so. Xeno is not afraid to tell anyone certain things about himself (or so it seems to me, the chick who hides with her secrets in the shadows of the alleyways off the streets of society). Since we first spoke (or, rather, typed) with each other, he has told me many things that, if I were him, I would have kept under lock and key.
5. He doesn't tell me to eat meat.
Not once has Xeno told me that I "have to" eat meat. This is quite the feat, as most people are constantly telling me that there's no way I'm getting enough protein without ingesting flesh (despite the fact that I actually get more protein than your average fleshy, or meat-eater, most of the time). Xeno honestly just doesn't give a shit what I eat.
6. He gave me a present.
He's threatened to give me a number of gifts (a machete, a vibrator, and the beginning of the zombie apocalypse, to name a few), but a few days ago Xeno actually went through with it! I am now the proud owner of a pocketknife. It has a little scissor thingy that amuses me to no end. That is all on this topic.
7. He lets me ramble.
Most people give me about thirty seconds to ramble and then decide to cut me short with an "Artemis, get to the damn point already." Not Xeno. Today he actually encouraged me to tell him a story about my cats. Encouraged! The fact that Xeno allows me to ramble without cutting me off makes me enormously happy.
8. He uses proper grammar.
Most of the time, that is. Xeno also has this tendency to use proper capitalisation, something almost unheard of here on the internets. I have a feeling that if he didn't suck at typing, he would probably spell things correctly as well. As it is, he frequently makes typos and has been known to say such things as, "Fuck typing."
9. He understands the word "privacy."
Xeno gets that some people don't share everything. There are even a few things about Xeno that I don't know. There are (for sure) a lot of things about me that Xeno doesn't know, and unlike some people (ahem, I'm talking to you, Pretty Princess), he doesn't demand that I inform him of my every little thing. Granted, I usually bitch to him about most things anyways, but it's nice to know that he understands secrecy.
10. He makes awesome cookies.
I'm not even kidding. Xeno is the Queen of Baked Goods. I swear to God, he must put, like, unicorn blood and magic in his cookies. And crushed sleeping pills, because after I ate about twelve the other day, I was exhausted. Those chocolate chip cookies are definitely in my list of the top ten tastiest things I've ever eaten.
Those are the ten (main) reasons my friend Xeno kicks ass, even though he's a muffinfucking jackwagon communist who deserves to burn in Hell.
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