A Beer Commercial Decided My Fate

A beer commercial has brought me clarity. Just recently I was watching television and a Samuel Adams commercial comes on. Now, I have always liked Samuel Adams commercials; they tap into an emotional cheesiness that many other products cannot obtain without losing its credibility. What can I say, I like the dude’s work ethic. As a point, or small inconsequential factor to this anecdote, I was undergoing some Kevin Spacey. I was zoning. But through that, I had retained one line: “Get a job you love, and never work a day in your life.” That line was loosely adapted just now, as I could not recall it word for word and my internet sleuthing skills have failed me. That singular line stuck. My noodle marinated in it.

Growing up I have always struggled with that relentless question: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” When I was younger it ranged anywhere from a singer/songwriter to a mail carrier. In the second grade, I went through a bout where my career goal was to become a librarian. I was a library girl. I must have gone to the library at least once a week, and those would be the days I looked forward to most. I would painstakingly anticipate the trip all throughout math lessons, lunch, recess, and the bus ride home. And as soon as my mom got home from work, we were off. I was an avid reader, a bookworm if I may. I ransacked those shelves; I poured over those books. I braved the swings with Ramona Quimby, I stuck my nose up with Junie B. Jones, and earned my badges with the Pee Wee Scouts. If I were Jewish, the public library would have been my Israel. It only made sense to become a librarian.

That ship came and went. The idea of being a librarian and I just drifted apart. It was mutual. Musical differences. We were both going in different directions; it wanted to pursue a solo career, and I wanted to put together a synth-pop duo. From then on, my prospects started becoming more conventional: teacher, lawyer, et al. In the seventh grade, I started playing the drums. I didn’t so much as play, but dabbled. For a few years. Now, in those days, I dreamed of making it big time as a quote unquote rockstar. I wanted it all: sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll. But with my lack of progress, and through the help of my therapist, I realized that I wasn’t so much interest in actually playing the drums, but rather the idea of playing the drums. Fame. Glory. Acknowledgement. This guy was good.

For the past few years now, I’ve been stuck on this one vocational direction that I haven’t been able to shake: music journalist. And on that dreary night as I was first emotionally and verbally abused by my stepfather for something I was wrongfully accused of, and then sent to bed without supper, I had myself a grand realization. I had just received Almost Famous in the post from Netflix and since I was not left with many other options to spend the rest of my night, and I obviously wasn’t just going to go to sleep, I popped it into my portable DVD player. Almost Famous is a semi-autobiographical movie about a teen, William Miller who is assigned a story for Rolling Stone magazine. He tours along side a fictional band, Stillwater, interviewing them, all the while struggling with the conflict between the values he was taught by his mother, and the social values he is quickly learning from this band and its groupies and/or “band-aids.“ This movie hit me hard. I bawled. I tinkered on the edge of blubbering. The reason partly being events that unfolded earlier in the evening, but mainly because of the heart wrenching love fiasco that unfolded throughout the film. But within this emotional entanglement that I had quickly found myself in, I did take away from it something very powerful to me. The movie only further validated my desire to become a music journalist. A rock critic. The “enemy.” The thought of it put me in a sex-crazed frenzy (joking). But I was attracted to the idea of listening to new records, interviewing musicians, and bribing them to have sex with me in exchange for a promise of the cover. I was all set.

Somewhere along the way, I think I lost sight of what was really important to me. I gave in further to society's terms of success, rather than abiding to my own. I wanted the money, the cars, the ability to live comfortably. I wanted to be a pharmacist. Or so I thought. For the past six months I have tricked myself into believing that I could and wanted to become a pharmacist. The money is was attracted me to vocation, and I couldn’t tell you one other reason I wanted the job if I tried. Not even with a gun barrel to the back of my throat. I made plans. I was going to go to UW. I was going to complete 2-3 undergrad years. I was going to get into pharmacy school. I would become a pharmacist. And then what, be happy? I had it all wrong; I had let my morals be fogged my society’s views and perceptions. And the sad thing is, it took a class assignment to research our desired major for me to realize this. In the critically acclaimed film Little Miss Sunshine, the ever endearing Dwayne voiced to Frank, played by Steve Carell, “You do what you love, and fuck the rest.”