P-A Notes: Dear Parents/Guardian
No, it's not about the rooming, nor am I at Shizz.
It's about me. My future. And you.
I know I've made it clear that I don't want to major in the sciences or mathematics, nor do I want a career in any of those fields. And that I wanted to enter the arts, the performances, literature etc etc.
You don't get it, do you?
I.
Want.
To.
Perform.
Or to be more specific, I want to be in a band, I want to sing, I want to be poor, living in an apartment, working as a waitress scraping tips and being frustrated over making ends meet and writing songs at the same time. I'd gladly start as a penniless, nameless street performer on the corners in Chicago downtown or in an unknown band desperately hoping for a night in the Metro.
Yes, your eldest daughter wants to be a starving artist. In fact, both of your only daughters want to be starving artists, while everyone else in the family are raking in the riches, enjoying the stable jobs in the medical fields or educational fields. How does that make you feel? Confused why we're willing to endure years of suffering to come? Angry at our stupid decisions? Wondering where oh where you went wrong with your little pumpkin?
We're sick of this shit. Or could say...music was, and is, my lifeline, my IV, my LIFE.
Maybe I'm over dramatizing my life, but really, drama invited itself in ever since 1999, and yes mom, I still blame 1999 for all the shit that happened since. However, it was my first few tastes of a bitter life and music was what helped me though. One example?
My Chemical Romance and my middle school days. That band? You know, the one band that swears quite a bit, hailing from New Jersey (except for Bob Bryar, he's from Chicago, LIKE ME).
My Chemical Romance saved my life.
I don't care if I'm too much of a pussy to be a cutter, if it weren't for those five people, I know I would've been a severe downer at the time. Their music assured me over and over again that it was alright to be fucked up, because out there, there were five other people living just as fucked up lives. You can argue that my life is actually worth giving thanks for compared to the ones that have actual whining rights, but I don't know them, and frankly, it's what each person is going through that matters most to themselves.
Music has played a large influence in my life, you can't deny that, nor can you take that away from me. So what if being a teacher is a stable job? It means nothing, NOTHING, to me at all if I'm not going to be happy doing that job. So what if being in business gives me a better chance of survival in reality? I would rather go hungry and live on scraps if I get to live a life of personal sense of achievement than a comfortable life and wonder why I'm still stuck with a job I hate.
So you know what?
I'll continue being the obedient daughter until I can live on my own, but I promise you, this isn't going to be the Joy Luck Club.
I'm going to live on my own terms, and fuck what the family thinks.
It's about me. My future. And you.
I know I've made it clear that I don't want to major in the sciences or mathematics, nor do I want a career in any of those fields. And that I wanted to enter the arts, the performances, literature etc etc.
You don't get it, do you?
I.
Want.
To.
Perform.
Or to be more specific, I want to be in a band, I want to sing, I want to be poor, living in an apartment, working as a waitress scraping tips and being frustrated over making ends meet and writing songs at the same time. I'd gladly start as a penniless, nameless street performer on the corners in Chicago downtown or in an unknown band desperately hoping for a night in the Metro.
Yes, your eldest daughter wants to be a starving artist. In fact, both of your only daughters want to be starving artists, while everyone else in the family are raking in the riches, enjoying the stable jobs in the medical fields or educational fields. How does that make you feel? Confused why we're willing to endure years of suffering to come? Angry at our stupid decisions? Wondering where oh where you went wrong with your little pumpkin?
We're sick of this shit. Or could say...music was, and is, my lifeline, my IV, my LIFE.
Maybe I'm over dramatizing my life, but really, drama invited itself in ever since 1999, and yes mom, I still blame 1999 for all the shit that happened since. However, it was my first few tastes of a bitter life and music was what helped me though. One example?
My Chemical Romance and my middle school days. That band? You know, the one band that swears quite a bit, hailing from New Jersey (except for Bob Bryar, he's from Chicago, LIKE ME).
My Chemical Romance saved my life.
I don't care if I'm too much of a pussy to be a cutter, if it weren't for those five people, I know I would've been a severe downer at the time. Their music assured me over and over again that it was alright to be fucked up, because out there, there were five other people living just as fucked up lives. You can argue that my life is actually worth giving thanks for compared to the ones that have actual whining rights, but I don't know them, and frankly, it's what each person is going through that matters most to themselves.
Music has played a large influence in my life, you can't deny that, nor can you take that away from me. So what if being a teacher is a stable job? It means nothing, NOTHING, to me at all if I'm not going to be happy doing that job. So what if being in business gives me a better chance of survival in reality? I would rather go hungry and live on scraps if I get to live a life of personal sense of achievement than a comfortable life and wonder why I'm still stuck with a job I hate.
So you know what?
I'll continue being the obedient daughter until I can live on my own, but I promise you, this isn't going to be the Joy Luck Club.
I'm going to live on my own terms, and fuck what the family thinks.