Joonies.
I was going to write this post about attention whoring Persian girls. But instead I want to focus my efforts on an issue, even more painful than that (can you imagine?)
The Future.
No, not ‘the future’ in the do-aliens-exist artificialINTELLIGENCE kinda way. And defnintely not in the what-are-we-doing with our ozone layer/MotherNature’sPermanentPMS kinda way either.
I’m talking about each one of our futures. What the f#ck are we gonna do with them?
I see the anxiety on everybody’s faces. And especially when I look in the mirror.
I have so much anxiety and stress about planning what to do with my existence, that I forget that I’m currently existing.
Does that make sense? I can’t plan my future because I’m SO scared I won’t succeed that I’d rather escape the planning part in the first place.
Anyone with me on this? FAILURE-PHOBIA?
And I hate that one conversation I’ve had since I got accepted into college (EVERYONE HAS EXPERIENCED SOME VARIATIONS OF THIS):
“What are you majoring in?”
“ My Major is ________________”
“Oh…so, what are you gonna do with that?”
I’m guilty of asking that question, and I have heard it said to me so many times. I know it doesn’t mean to be condescending all the time, but ‘what are you gonna do with that?’ leaves me tempted to give an equally cheeky response:
I plan on taking my degree in what you consider BULLSHIT, and sticking it up your ass.
But usually I respond: I want to get my masters/lawschool/MBA/phD/jobopportunity—I think I’ve said about every postgrad choice there is, and all of them have been in some form , a lie.
But the real answer is: I DON’T KNOW WTF I’M GOING TO DO WITH THAT, AND I WOULD APPRECIATE IT IF YOU DIDN’T ASK.
Even my dad falls into this habit (on our monthly calls): Saaghi, vat are u doing? Vat are going to do vit dat? Do you tink dis has any value for de current job market, Daddy joon?
No Daddy, everything I’m doing is worth squat to employers, prime example: this blog. No one wants a closeted-nympho/shopaholic/foodaddict with daddy issues and no shame.
In college, my dad would joke that my major was actually called ‘Golaabi Shenasi’ (FARSI WORD OF THE DAY) which means ‘the study of PEARS’…which is Persian dad code for: BIGGEST.BULLSHIT.I.HAVE.TO.PAY.FOR.
He can’t understand why I deviated from the three divine careers of medicine, law, and engineering. I’m sure even if I end up buying the dude a Bentley he’ll still shake his head that ‘I’d have been better off an engineer.’ Even Peyman Moadi (Iranian Screenplay writer/Actor/HOTTIE) got a degree in engineering to shut his parents up before pursuing film (his real passion).
A SEPARATION FTW.
While my career conflict with my father is worthy of its own NOVEL, this post is not just about a career.
Its about the plan.
If you’re in high school, its easy to think that people who have organized their college admissions by rankings, visited every campus, and are looking up plane tickets for orientation– have bright futures. Or that the kids who get into the top schools—have their futures guaranteed.
Or in college, the ones on top of their GRE/LSAT/MCAT/JOB ish are set fo LYFEEE.
Or after college, the ones who make more $$$ and rave about it at happy hour, are essentially—happier.
But its not true. There’s a few things that we need to come to terms with, a habit Persian parents ingrained in us:
Comfort over Passion:
This is one of the few things I believe in (clearly, religion is out of my arena nowadays). Persian parents, rich or poor, have strived to give their kids a better life – materiastically. This is 100% true. Regardless of how you feel about your parents “parenting skills,” they most likely bent over backwards to buy you a FURBY and provide you with a CAR when you needed it.
They’ll let you live under their roof (bc quite frankly they can’t let go of you either) until whenever you please, and your mom will do your laundry if you’re a doodool tala FORSURE.
But this is, at its root, a problem. If we’ve always been comfortable, we won’t have any tolerance for being in withdrawal. Think: If you’ve always lived in a mansion, it’ll be hard to downgrade to a shack. But at the end of the day, we’re not our parents. WE HAVE TO BUILD OUR LIVES FROM NOTHING to SOMETHING—
And that requires hardship. It requires budgeting, couponing, and pride-swallowing. It means doing bitch-work to get to the top.
(Something we are not good at)
I used to pride myself on not being TOO much of a princess, until I traveled around Europe—and really got smacked in the face. Try sleeping in a few foreign airports and you’ll catch my drift.
something like this...
Our parents inadvertently taught us the standard of living we should have. And there’s nothing wrong with it. But to think that you should have a Mercedes off your first job from college is DELUSION, and nothing else.
This brings me back to the planning.
Planning for the sake of comfort, is just as bad as escaping planning. Planning for approval. Planning to plan. Planning because everybody else is doing it….
Don’t take the LSAT because you don’t know what else to do. Or do something because you know your parents will fund it. You’re a fucking human being, and I’m sure something makes you tick. FIND IT and DO IT. If it makes life hard for a while, suck it up and go cry in the break room.
No more excuses, bitches.
Whether you’re undecided about how you’ll be unproductively procrastinating tomorrow, or how you’ll earn a living when Daddy’s threats of cutting you off become a reality, you probably haven’t thought of a concrete plan of what the next five years will look like.
Corny. But really, Stalin- the man with the five year plan...no one wants to be Stalin.
And believe it or not, that’s fine.
Don’t believe the hype: your parents didn’t have sh!t planned (including you – sorryboutit).
sexandfessenjoon@gmail.com
Above the Influence,
saaghi ساقی
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