I wish life would print out an instruction manuel for me because I can’t seem to follow my own. 

Seeing as how my days in high school are coming to a quick but satiate end, I’ve been concentrating wildly on professions lately. The following jobs I am considering:

An editor. I have a passion for words, and I tend to overexert myself whenever I edit a peer’s essay because I don’t settle for average; I settle for perfect. It can get annoying at times, but I manage because I enjoy it. 

A high school English teacher. I’m not sure about this one; teenagers have a knack for sending me over the edge. I can hardly get along with my compeers at school, and it’s hard for me to understand them. But, like my mother mentioned once, it’s a different situation once you’re an adult.

A veterinarian. I admit it: I don’t like science. It doesn’t impress me; and frankly, it’s rather dull. The process to become a vet requires a variety of science classes as well as math classes – another subject I can’t tolerate. With these two combined, how am I able to sit through hours and hours of said classes without giving myself an aneurysm? 

An English professor. In the high school teaching environment, I won’t be allowed to exercise my wild and abiding love for literature to its full extent because frankly, I would probably get a bit crazy. If I would give this a go, I intend to get my Ph.D. Albeit, I’m a tad weary about this because I need to learn a second language. The memories of Spanish I and II during 10th and 11th grade provides no vaunting, believe me. But, I am thinking too much ahead, and should focus rather on getting accepted to a university first, and then see what my thoughts are after a few English classes.

I have a lot of careers to choose from, all of which are demanding. I’ve always imagined having the title of “Dr.” before my name, and the option of being a vet or a college professor satisfies that dream. 

I reluctantly (right!) skipped school to go shopping with my aunt today. I love going with her because it’s never rushed, but it’s also not dragged on and on and on like it is when I/we go shopping with my mom. I’m not huge on shopping due to the outrageous prices that accompany a beautiful desired item of clothing I want. It’s upsetting, and I’d rather not go through that emotion whenever I see such prices. I also don’t care to walk around department stores because honestly, department stores make give me a dirty feeling. I don’t know what it is, but I get a downcast feeling when I see families upon families walking through aisles with screaming toddlers trailing behind.

Anyway, some of my favorite clothes I purchased today: (Excuse the poor image quality, I used my iPhone.)

I’ve been unimaginably tired these last couple of days. It’s the type of tired that seems to swallow your brain, chew it up, and spit it back out as, unfortunately, a pile of doo doo. Because that is exactly how I feel at this very minute: a pile of doo doo. My eye lids are constantly at a downward position, screaming LAY DOWN! LAY DOWN! at me as soon as I hint at doing a physical activity. The faint buzzing sound in the back of my head doesn’t make matters any better, either. My grandmother always claims her ailments predict the weather. Perhaps the hurricane of doom is bearing towards California?