When Your Entire Resume Is a Joke, It’s Really NOT Funny
I struggled on and off for years figuring out what to do with my life. They say do what you love. Well, I loved dogs, but I didn’t want to breed, groom, walk or train them. I also loved sex, but I realized that just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean it should be your profession.
Let’s go back in time. My first career idea came when I was eight years old. I wanted to be a fashion designer. That seemed normal, feasible, and somewhat exciting. Thirteen years later I dropped out of a graduate program at Parsons School of Design after being given a homework assignment that entailed painting 957 shades of yellow. I also couldn’t sew or draw and had previously failed a draping class where Asian students were excelling in intimidation tactics by whipping up couture origami-like gowns in ten minutes, while I could barely pin an A-line skirt on a crash dummy in three hours.
After that things went downhill.
I had a lot of ideas, but little follow through. I lacked motivation, enthusiasm and serotonin. I also wasn’t good at pretending, which is why I never considered becoming an actress. I couldn’t even fake an orgasm — partly because I’m lazy, but mostly because I’m just not that nice.
People threw ideas at me. “Why don’t you . . .” fill in the blank with anything awful…
