Friday, April 14, 2006

Being Asked Questions

I remember that when I graduated from high school, the question most asked was "So, what are you going to do next?"

I hated being asked this question. I knew that people only asked because a) they cared and were curious or b) were just killing time, shooting the breeze and didn't really care.

Either way, it meant that I had to have something to answer with. This was a bit of a problem because I wasn't really sure back then. You develop your stock semi-amusing answer, however, and learn to deftly change the topic.

This is also how I also answer the inevitable " Wow, you sure are tall, do you play basketball? No, well you really ought to, I bet the coach would sure love you."

My usual response?

Something self-depricating about a lack of both talent and coordination. It's both true and non-offensive. This is repeated ad nauseum instead of responding more truthfully and completly with: "I'd rather stab pencils in my eyes than play a competitive sport, especially basketball, with highly competitive and agressive athletes, because that whole team-sport thing actually sounds kind of like a mid-level ring of hell. Right in between the one for jerks who park in handicapped parking and the ring for overly biased journalists with no understanding of proper research methods."

Oddly enough, I used to get asked that question ALL THE TIME. Especially by strangers, the more random the stranger, the more likely I get that same damn question. Now my random stranger question still revolves around how tall I am, but with a new twist.

It is now: "Wow, you sure are tall. It must be really hard to find boyfriends tall enough."

My usual response: "Nah, my fiance is about the same height I am. Whoever's tallest just depends on the shoes we wear."

What I will someday say if I ever get annoyed enough: What? Seriously? Aaaargh. I'm leaving. I have better things to worry about than how tall my boyfriend is.

I'm now getting asked the "So, what will you do now with your spanking new degree? Grad school?"

It's understandable. I know. Enquiring minds want to know. My answer?

"Grad school? Dear God in heaven, please no. Not more school. Not for a while. Maybe a job. I hear you get money when you do them. That sounds very fun."

I've been working on this degree for six years. That isn't to say I've always been in school, but it has been my overarcing goal for that long. That is a long time. That's a full quarter of my life. I won't say never for more school, because the world has a way of throwing forever in your face, but I will say not right now.

I'm also getting married this summer, and then moving two timezones away. To a very large city where none of my friends live. I'll know a few people there, but mostly it will be people I've only very recently met, and no family of mine.

That is a lot of change. So to do all that and start school again (even if I wanted too) would be too much. Plus the whole money thing. It sounds intruiging.

My plans aren't really any more concrete than that. I don't know if that is a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, I'll have options. On the other, I'll have no (well, little) direction. We'll see how I do in this world with the B.A.


Jen said...

At least you have a degree.

Well um ah..... see.... a year ago I met this Aussie bloke who I haven't seen for like.... 10 months.... but I miss him and ah.... well, see, goes like this:

Huge tax refund + long distance love = move to the other side of the earth for a while, you know, to see about this bloke.

School? Well, yeah. Sure. It was interesting. Killed some time. Kept me entertained. A degree? Whoa. Hold yer horses. Interest in one entry level course does not a fulltime student make! Um.... (to get you to shut up at this point in the conversation) sure. Sure. I'll look into Geography classes in Oz.

Plans? What plans? I'm in love. I'm moving. I'm having a fabulous career at Starbucks as a coffee specialist. I am so absolutely sick and tired of having to make plans that revolve around school or career. Pardon my pottymouth, but sod off.

Saw a tshirt recently I thought of purchasing to wear to family gatherings and anyplace someone might want to know what I'm doing with my life in a judgemental way. It's a black Emily the Strange shirt, with sparkly pink writing and her kitty's face on it. Says There's No Place Like Alone.

You'll have to let me know your new address so I can send you outrageously tacky postcards from Sydney where my friend count so far is two, including Paul. Three if Jo is still there, but I haven't heard from her in a few years.

Feminist Military Spouse said...

I think you are making good choices. Getting married and moving to a new place is ALOT of change. Take it from an expert.
And if it makes you feel any better, I don't have much direction either, at least not right now. My pathetic life revolves around whether or not I can lose the 10lbs I have left in order to meet height/weight standards for the Navy so that they will approve my breast reduction. You would think losing 30lbs in a year would be plenty, but it's not. I know it is good for me, but I can't help but think that if they would cut the damn things off, I would lose 10lbs.
Anyway, good luck with the wedding. If I had it to do all over again, I would elope. It was seriously the most stressful day of my life.
So if you need to learn some deep breathing excercises or just need to talk about it, let me know.