Sometimes, life is shit. And when life is shitty we then proceed to feel shitty ourselves, and it’s basically a snowball effect that results in a big, toxic pile of bad feelings, self-doubt, regret, remorse, etc. Throw in some ice cream, a few bags of Doritos, and multiple marathons of Disney movies and you have yourself one big mourning fest.

This is sort of how I feel right now. Not that my life is actually bad or difficult or trying, but in a college student first world sense, I suppose it could be. You see, I had built up an idea of what my summer would look like. It’s my first summer in New York- the iconic first summer that is the gateway to my ultimately very successful, creative career- where I’m overworking myself but I’m also changing the world, getting a book published by the time I’m 23 (or 26) and one day making enough money to only shop at Whole Foods and to hire a permanent gardener to grow my herbs and tomatoes for me. This was the plan. I had a plan, and don’t we all know (I guess I didn’t- whoops) that whenever you have a plan, it never, ever goes as desired.

I guess all of those rom-coms and Hallmark movies that I’ve spent hours watching had taught me nothing.

Sometimes I think that I forget that I’m 19- not even the big 2-0 yet, and that I have a million more fuck-ups and fails and Friday nights accompanied by an entire pint of Cherry Garcia to go through before I am living the life that I am ultimately meant to live. Or maybe this is the life I’m ultimately meant to live- right here in the here and now, at Washington Square Park next to some (German? Dutch?) girl who looks like she could be the lead singer of a lesbian disco-pop band. (That was actually meant to be a compliment, she’s very pretty. Kind of Lea Seydoux from BITWC). According to the self-help book that I’m currently reading, “You Are a Badass”, life is more about the journey than the end result. And maybe I should appreciate my journey, because if the worst thing right now is the fact that I quit my internship and don’t know what to do with myself, then I should probably shut up and appreciate the fact that I have food, a very nice dorm room, and a prosperous life ahead of me.

Since this seems to be evolving into a self-indulgent rant, I also want to touch upon the fact that I have no clue WHAT to do with myself. Is the fashion industry too superficial and shallow? What is it contributing to the world, other than avant-garde collections for the wealthy to appreciate, and pollution to our lands and oceans? Should I be doing more with my life? Should I save the puppies and turtles and start a non-profit foundation for the homeless LGBTQIA youth? What is the meaning of life, and how do I embrace that? Is there a meaning to life, or are we all a clump of cells who will live and die, and our great-grandchildren will have to suffer from the air we’ve polluted, oceans we’ve trashed, and political/social conflict and injustice we’ve created?

I think often times, we (me) forget the greatness and glory and potential that we possess. We wallow in our setbacks and allow those things to hinder us in our work and progression; whether that wallowing be in the form of Cheetos or weed or self-loathing or Vodka (or all of the above), it is all deprecating nonetheless. And maybe, if we muster up the courage and outfit, we can pull an Elle Woods (post-Calloway hitting on her and she quits the firm and briefly questions her life choices) and march right back into that courtroom, pink heels on and Bruiser/handbag in hand, and slay the fuck out of all the self-doubt or doubt from others that has ever crossed our minds/paths. A bend and snap might not cure everything, but self-confidence and utter persistence always, always will.