White Person Problems

I’m so tired of this. I come from a suburb of Detroit, and one of the nicer ones at that. Led a very comfortable life. My biggest struggle growing up dealt with accepting my sexuality and coming out, and since this was the hardest thing I had to deal with, I’d say my life has been pretty easy. Great, but easy. Yeah, my dad’s still not okay with it/doesn’t believe me/can’t look at me the same anymore, but he’s the only person so far who has reacted negatively and not changed their mind within a month.

I didn’t try in high school. I was one of those kids who literally never studied, but usually got the homework done. This, combined with typical C’s on tests, somehow gave me a 3.7 GPA when all was said and done at Farmington High. A really good GPA, to be sure, but quite lower than most of the annoyingly intelligent folk at U of M. What I’m trying to say is I never formed any study habits. Didn’t need to. I got a 31 on my ACT, so obviously some stuff comes naturally to me, but that’s really only English and writing. Which was over half of the ACT.

Enter college. University of Michigan. The dream.

I’d always wanted to go here, so it was the only school I applied to. Got in. Decided I wanted to go into nursing. I liked the feeling that I was on a set path, in the same way that high school provided you with a clear path to take, the School of Nursing had a very strict layout of which courses to take and when to take them. But, y’know, I needed this. I need structure, especially when dealing with something that I’m not familiar with. This resulted in a fantastic first semester. I finally became the kid I’d always wanted to be. I started off high school as an extremely shy, borderline mute, unconfident boy who was too afraid to be himself. Left in a decidedly different state. College kept presenting me with interesting and amazing people that I fell in love with left and right. Yeah, being open about being gay from the start was cool, but it’s more than that. A fresh start can work wonders for the soul. I truly felt liberated. 

College contained a whole new world of experiences, as dumb/cliche/whatever as that sounds. I’d smoked weed a few times before, but never drunk. Never had sex. Never had a boyfriend or a fake girlfriend - well, one that lasted for more than a day. I learned that drinking can be fun. The hype was real y’all, getting drunk led to lots of fun. Yayz I’m so cool. Also led to lots of drunk tweeting, my unfortunate go-to activity when drink is in hand. 

Anyways, point is I never really cared about classes. Sure, I got all my work done. But. As much as I studied, I never really studied. As many all-nighters as I pulled, I never put an effective amount of studying in. I skipped more class than most people do their entire 4 years in college. I slept in past morning classes. I wasn’t the best student, but thought it’d be okay.

Everything will be okay. Everything will work out.

My life motto since coming out. Because it’d been true. Everything always works out to some extent. In the end, I was always happy. I’m legitimately not lying when I say I’ve never been stressed out until Finals Week, my first semester of college. Why not live your life carefree and easygoing? Any unhappiness is created by yourself, and thus, can be wished away when it isn’t needed. 

But then my grades. 1 B, 2 C’s, and a D. Not awful awful terrible awful, but still pretty bad. Like really bad. Not like how my roommate failed out with a 0.0 GPA, but still. Bad. Wake-up call that second semester would be different, right? I’d actually study, I’d stay on top of things, the typical resolutions one makes before starting a new period in their life.

A week into the new semester, I got called to the School of Nursing. Was told I would not be able to take my 6 credit Anatomy class or my 4 credit Clinicals class. So. This sucked. Not only was I depending on my clinicals class to tell me if I had made the right decision in pursuing nursing, but I was pushed back an entire year. If I stick with nursing throughout college, I will graduate with the class of 2016, instead of 2015. I had to scramble to find last-minute electives so that I could stay enrolled full-time, but ended up with only 12 credits. Thought I’d have 16, but despite the professor’s insistences, I never got off the damn waitlist. 

When Ginger Bitch at the Nursing School first told me this, she did so with all the compassion of a poacher approaching an endangered species they intended to sell the next day. Naturally, I was real upset. Tried to barter with her. Useless. Obviously. Walked out of the building in a daze, sat on a nearby bench and cried for a couple minutes. Not like Sun and Jin dying on Lost sobbing, but y’know. Tears yo. Only gave myself 2 minutes though. Cuz everything works out? Yes. This wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t supposed to.

I guess I should mention I’m not religious. My “everything works out” mentality has nothing to do with God having a grand plan for us all. I just think things work out because they usually do. Nothing’s truly awful if you look at it from the right perspective. Then again, this is coming from someone who’s had to deal with zero tragedies his entire life, both dealing with myself and those around me. I used to label myself as agnostic, but now I’d say I’m an atheist. I’ll just leave that there.

But yeah. I thought this was an epiphany that I was supposed to start focusing on my other passion, film. I’ve been interested in movies since a young age. Like young young. I thought for the longest time I’d be a film director, but what I’ve always loved in film is the writing. A great script trumps all. My writing here sucks donkey hole but that’s because I’m rambling. If the names Diablo Cody and Aaron Sorkin mean nothing to you, well. They should. I would love to be the next Diablo Cody.

So for the next few days  I was set. Swtich to some kind of film major. Nursing was never a realistic proposition anyways, right? But then another week passed and I began having doubts. I already knew that I’d stay enrolled in the Schoo of Nursing for the rest of the semester, I knew this decision was not one that could be made rashly.

Which kinda brings us to now? It’s been a little over a month since classes started. I wanna stick with nursing, despite the extra year it would add in tuition costs. Despite the embarassment that comes with repeating classes. Despite the fact that I can’t tell if nursing is what I want my life to become, even though its job market is far more secure than anything in the film industry. Or do I take a chance? Find something in the industry, maybe writing, maybe one of the other trillion things, and work with what I find most interesting in life? The thing that I’ve only met one other person with a similar level of passion for.

The thing that I think could be my instrument with which I make a difference in the world. I don’t feel important now. I just turned 19, so this isn’t that big of a deal. You can’t accomplish great things when 19. Which is why I’ve been focusing on “having fun” this entire time in college so far. But I see myself as more of a creative person than a practical person if that makes sense. 

So putting that decision off til the summer when I have to make it. Because what the fuck. I don’t know. I’ve never had to make a big decision like this before.

Not to mention, this is happening at the same time that I’m losing friends from high school. My two best ones. The ones I thought would stick. But as I made less and less contact with them, they got pissed. I thought no explanation was needed, this is what happens in college, but apparently not. I don’t know. Still unresolved issues there. But that was weighing down on me.

I finally found a kid that I like. Problem is, he’s living in a house with me next year. Along with 6 other people. So logic says “Don’t fuck this up, you can’t, stand down bitch”. We haven’t done anything. But we both like each other. We both know this. It’s weird. We hang out a lot and text constantly. He’s only the second guy that I’ve legitimately liked in my life. I’m not sure if we would really go anywhere if we “officially dated”. I kinda don’t think so. But that doesn’t change how either of us feels now, much as I would like it to. 

Bleh. Stress. White person style. This shit is too long.