Fail // Future // Plans

When Plans Fail Me 

 

I've been a very unproductive homebody for the past two and a half weeks (some of which I was sick). However, upon returning to a state of good health, I am beginning to realize that being unproductive is a source of stress in my life. When I lack productivity, I make lists in my head and in my journals and on my phone until my mind is clear of the clutter that has not become a reality. When I lack productivity, I cannot sleep because sleep is a reward for working. When I lack productivity, I feel lethargic (it's a brutal cycle). Currently, I am writing this blogpost to feel productive. But it doesn't help much.

I've been meaning to write a blogpost since before finals week. The last time I posted, it was about leaving home (which really meant leaving school) and it was the first blog post I shared of the internet (on Facebook *gasp*). Now, I am more comfortable and confident in my writing, though I'll admit that my writing still needs to be cleaned up and I am still finding my voice, I realize now that the only way to have a voice is to practice using it. I was going to write about stress, which consumes a large portion of my thoughts and is actually beginning to affect my health (hence being sick), but then I realized I don't like writing about stress.

I've actually been scared to write about this or even acknowledge this for a while because it was terrifying to think that I, the one who finished in the top one percent of her high school class, could suddenly stop caring about school. I was the anomaly. I went to some little private school when I had the grades, extracurriculars, and standardized test scores to get into a "good", reputable college. High school had conditioned me to go to a UC school and be a good little drone. I could do it and I didn't. I could have been "successful" and I wasn't. I was the loser who went to some school that no one had ever heard of. I finished this semester with grades that were below my standard and less than what I expected. They were mediocre. They were average. They were below my expectations and even below my planning. But it is over and I find that I do not even care that I got a 3.0 this semester. I really just do not care anymore. I always assumed grades would be important to me, but now that my desire to go to med school is gone I do not feel inspired to try in my classes that were merely for going to med school. I don't think it matters anymore. 

I know what I want and I don't need to go to college to get it. I want to run a non-profit. I want to start one. I have my plan. I have the vision. The first ever all inclusive women's health center. I want training for girls, sex education, proper sex education with the encouragement of abstinence since we gain no business from taking advantage of them. Our main goal is to help women, not make money.