You know how when, you’re a little kid, you have all kinds of big dreams? You want to be in movies, or President… or you’re that little smartass in the back who pulls a Lennon and says you just want to be happy? Me, I just wanted that stupid american dream. You know the one, the wife who’s a stay at home mom with our 2.2 kids. House in a middle class neighborhood with the idyllic white picket fence and a two car garage. I didn’t dream of what job was part of that picture, because to me, as long as it paid decently and I didn’t absolutely hate it, it just made the dream possible. And if all the brainwashing they do in high school is any indication, to get a job that pays well enough for all that stuff… you need to go to college. Otherwise you’re going to end up living in a hovel and flipping burgers. Well, six years, plenty of stories, and a couple of scars later, and I’m finally getting started on that college bit.
Is it weird that I’m actually terrified of finally being in college? I mean granted, none of my classmates frighten me. Half of them are maybe half my size, and the rest seem like decent enough people. Not a future serial killer or closet psycho among them, I figure. And the classes aren’t all that bad. Yeah, taking a bunch of gen. ed. classes that won’t really mean anything to the rest of my life is kind of shit, but it’s not as if they’ve been terribly difficult thus far. Even the fact that I can’t legally go to a bar with most of these kids and tease them when they’re wasted after a few beers isn’t all that bad. Mostly, I’m afraid of fucking this up. I mean, most of my high school classmates have graduated from university already. Some have their masters. Hell, a good chunk of them are even married with kid(s) already. And I’m way more awesome than those retards, so I’ve got to pull this off. Anything less just wouldn’t do. Can’t let five year old me down, after all.
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