for it.
I’m battling my own career ideas, too. I hate college, I love my art. The choice should be simple. But I feel overwhelmingly guilty when I think about quitting college. Mom and dad would probably be pissed. Actually, scratch the probably. They would be totally pissed.
At a red light, I lean my head against the headrest in my car and stare at the roof. Why is being an adult so freaking hard? Why can’t I just throw caution to the wind and follow my dreams like Park and Jace are doing?
I’ve legally been an adult for two years now. But I don’t feel like one. I mean, I still live with my parents and I’m still a virgin. It seems like everything in life is going on, growing up and taking control of life while I’m just sitting here idly wishing I could do things but not actually doing any of them.
By the time I get home, I don’t feel any more empowered about my future.
In fact, I feel smaller than ever.
Chapter 11
I’ve just done something really stupid.
Last night, after wallowing in my own insecurities, I had stayed up until two in the morning making art. I painted every single canvas I had left, all fourteen of them. I spent an extra hour going through my quotes notebook and searching the internet for more inspiring things to paint on future canvasses. In my sleep-deprived state, and probably slightly high from all the paint fumes, I had made a decision. I was going to quit college.
Mom was awake in the living room, binge-watching a show on Netflix that she’d recently become so obsessed with that she often stayed up late into the night watching more episodes. Armed with confidence and paint fumes, I had marched into the living room, looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Mom, I’m quitting college.”
She snorted and looked back at her television. “Get to sleep, Becca. You’ve lost your mind.”
I was so tired, I did what she said without complaint.
Now, it’s ten in the morning on a Wednesday. I shuffle down the hallway and into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal. I’m off work and school today since I only have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s a perfect day for lounging around and doing nothing.
Mom sits at the kitchen island eating some yogurt and reading the newspaper. “Good morning,” she says with a yawn.
“Hey.” It would be easy to continue on with my day acting as if everything is fine and pretending that last night didn’t happen. But that’s what the old Becca would do. I wasn’t out of my mind last night. I’ve never been more sure of something in my whole life.
If Jace and Park can quit their careers and start a business, then I can find it in me to quit college, which currently isn’t doing anything for my future and start up a business that is already earning good money. If I fail, then I fail. I can always go back to college. But I really want to try this out now, while Becca’s Inspirations are selling like crazy.
“Mom, can we talk?”
My mother’s eyes bulge as she sips her coffee quickly and then sets the coffee cup down with a clink. “Of course,” she says. I can see it now: her head is filling with all the horrors of what I could possibly say next. Mom, I’m pregnant. Mom, I’m in big trouble with the mafia. Mom, I totally crashed your car into a retirement home and killed a dozen nice old ladies.
I smile to ease her fears a bit. “Remember last night?” She nods. “Um, I wasn’t joking about it. I really want to quit college. At least for a little bit.”
She takes another sip of coffee. “Why is that?”
Suddenly the well-rehearsed speech I had formed in my mind while making my cereal is gone. Totally erased from my memory by the power of Mom’s piercing stare. “Well…I’m not doing so well in my classes,” I begin.
Mom shrugs. “You get the same degree with C’s as you do with A’s. As long as you’re passing, who cares?
“That’s just it, Mom. I’m going for a general studies associate’s
I’m battling my own career ideas, too. I hate college, I love my art. The choice should be simple. But I feel overwhelmingly guilty when I think about quitting college. Mom and dad would probably be pissed. Actually, scratch the probably. They would be totally pissed.
At a red light, I lean my head against the headrest in my car and stare at the roof. Why is being an adult so freaking hard? Why can’t I just throw caution to the wind and follow my dreams like Park and Jace are doing?
I’ve legally been an adult for two years now. But I don’t feel like one. I mean, I still live with my parents and I’m still a virgin. It seems like everything in life is going on, growing up and taking control of life while I’m just sitting here idly wishing I could do things but not actually doing any of them.
By the time I get home, I don’t feel any more empowered about my future.
In fact, I feel smaller than ever.
Chapter 11
I’ve just done something really stupid.
Last night, after wallowing in my own insecurities, I had stayed up until two in the morning making art. I painted every single canvas I had left, all fourteen of them. I spent an extra hour going through my quotes notebook and searching the internet for more inspiring things to paint on future canvasses. In my sleep-deprived state, and probably slightly high from all the paint fumes, I had made a decision. I was going to quit college.
Mom was awake in the living room, binge-watching a show on Netflix that she’d recently become so obsessed with that she often stayed up late into the night watching more episodes. Armed with confidence and paint fumes, I had marched into the living room, looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Mom, I’m quitting college.”
She snorted and looked back at her television. “Get to sleep, Becca. You’ve lost your mind.”
I was so tired, I did what she said without complaint.
Now, it’s ten in the morning on a Wednesday. I shuffle down the hallway and into the kitchen to make myself a bowl of cereal. I’m off work and school today since I only have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s a perfect day for lounging around and doing nothing.
Mom sits at the kitchen island eating some yogurt and reading the newspaper. “Good morning,” she says with a yawn.
“Hey.” It would be easy to continue on with my day acting as if everything is fine and pretending that last night didn’t happen. But that’s what the old Becca would do. I wasn’t out of my mind last night. I’ve never been more sure of something in my whole life.
If Jace and Park can quit their careers and start a business, then I can find it in me to quit college, which currently isn’t doing anything for my future and start up a business that is already earning good money. If I fail, then I fail. I can always go back to college. But I really want to try this out now, while Becca’s Inspirations are selling like crazy.
“Mom, can we talk?”
My mother’s eyes bulge as she sips her coffee quickly and then sets the coffee cup down with a clink. “Of course,” she says. I can see it now: her head is filling with all the horrors of what I could possibly say next. Mom, I’m pregnant. Mom, I’m in big trouble with the mafia. Mom, I totally crashed your car into a retirement home and killed a dozen nice old ladies.
I smile to ease her fears a bit. “Remember last night?” She nods. “Um, I wasn’t joking about it. I really want to quit college. At least for a little bit.”
She takes another sip of coffee. “Why is that?”
Suddenly the well-rehearsed speech I had formed in my mind while making my cereal is gone. Totally erased from my memory by the power of Mom’s piercing stare. “Well…I’m not doing so well in my classes,” I begin.
Mom shrugs. “You get the same degree with C’s as you do with A’s. As long as you’re passing, who cares?
“That’s just it, Mom. I’m going for a general studies associate’s
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