Mostly Everything Happens for a Pretty Good Reason

My father once made up a phrase to describe strange things or happenings: "weirdo-beirdo".

This week has, indeed, been weirdo-beirdo.

Somehow I thought the last days of my undergraduate career would be more...memorable. But between the heinous allergic reaction and the ridiculous amount of unnecessary stress, this week was definitely forgettable.

I guess I pictured tearful goodbyes, wise words from mentors and many gatherings with close friends, remembering our time at Otterbein. Instead, when I wasn't in class or working at Starbucks, I was sprawled half-naked on my futon in a benadryl-induced vegetative state, cursing the college for never installing air-conditioning in my sorority house.

What did I really have in mind? I think some part of me really honestly believed that I would end up with an A-list agent and have to leave school early to embark on some unbelieveably well-paying acting gig; that my four years of blood, sweat, tears and emotional melt-downs would've resulted in a fairy-tale ending. I would move to New York right after graduation and start this glorified starving-artist life that would result in me becoming a Broadway superstar.

But I think anyone who has ever performed thinks that at one point in their life.

Right now, today, at this time, this instant: I don't want to move to New York. It's hard. The weather sucks. There aren't any mountains or trees. And it's expensive.

Instead, I think I want to be an english teacher. I want to move back to Portland. I want an apartment far enough away from my parents but not so far that I can't conveniently go there for dinner a couple of times a week. I want to drive down Brockman really early in the morning and see the silhouette of Mount Hood. I want to get married. I want to never have to feel lonely as long as he's there. I want to have kids. I want to drive them to soccer practice every day. I want their crazy little friends to come over after school and eat freshly baked cookies. I want a backyard. And a barbecue. I want to host a block party on the 4th of July. I want a Doberman I can go jogging with ridiculously early in the morning. I want to teach kids Shakespeare. I want them to read plays. I want them to be excited to go to their high-school english class every day.

For so long, the only option I gave myself was to move to New York and be an actor. If I didn't do that, in my mind, I was a failure.

That's so silly. There are so many other fulfilling things I can do with my life.

Maybe this weirdo-beirdo week, more so this whole weirdo-beirdo year, was a message. I have this philosophy - no, belief - that mostly everything happens for a pretty good reason.

Whatever it means, obviously I'm supposed to be exploring other options. Otherwise I wouldn't be exploring them, would I?

I think my cat just ate a jelly bean...




The place where you are right now, God circled on the map for you.
- don't remember where I heard this one...