I Am Irrational

They say the answer to living a happy life is finding your passion and making that your career. I don’t know which “they” people are referring to, and I am also not sure that this is the answer. Of course, if you can find your passion and successfully make a good standard of living over night all the power. But if you are in any way a normal human being this takes time, and life doesn’t wait for you to pay bills.

Personally, I think the secret to being happy comes from a different place. I believe it comes from the place of irrational thought.

My life has been made up of only irrational gestures. From ditching my college degree’s given field of work to move home to my childhood desk, to learning every Kings Of Leon song in hopes to impress a boy I was too awe-struck to speak too. Frankly the only difference from me and someone in an insane asylum is that white is not my color, so I would never wear a straight jacket. That, and I put my irrational thoughts into action.

It is in the most insane of moments I have learned we live in a field of hope. It is in the times that we fear the most, and others fear the most for us, that great things happen.

I decided to leave an incredibly well esteemed university that was a mere hour from my parental dwellings to treck into a land of dust storms and physically pressing winds. No, Texas Tech did not hold a candle to Baylor in academia, number of students who’s parents made in the millions, and dorm room space, but it did give me the opportunity to work an internship that turned into a job and realize my future all by the mere age of 21.

Another great instance in which I used irrational behavior to shape my life was in August, when I moved from a 400 square foot efficiency into a down town apartment. My mom was less than thrilled as I packed up boxes and checked my band account once last time. It made no sense in my mind why she was so worried, the remaining $2 balance in no way concerned me.

See, irrationality is great in both life changing, and life threatening experiences.

In neither sense was it understandable for me to make the moves I did, but in both the outcome was just. I wasn’t acting on irrational impulse in hopes to make something happen, I was doing it because inside I knew my life was changing for the better. Yes, I could have easily gotten into an apartment in which my rent check would have bounced, I’m sure both my parents were stashing their credit cards for the moment I came running. But I knew that by putting myself in a position of irrationality I would be forced to do more, and take one step closer to my passion.

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21 And All Figured Out

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The future beamed as my wobbly, stiletto dawning feet stomped across that graduation stage. A clear vision of me shaking Giuliana Rancic’s hand as she bid ENews a-due and I began my role as lead reporter to the stars unveiled. I knew exactly where my life was headed, and where I would end up, all at the mere age in which a I could legally toss a shot down my throat. I was 21 and all figured out.

Until I was no longer.  See, the thing with becoming the next face of broadcast journalism is that you have to get a job in broadcast journalism. With over 60 resumes and reels sent out, I perched up at my internship turned part time job with FOX34 in Lubbock, Texas waiting for good news. But email after email was left unanswered.

It made no sense. How could someone who tried so hard, took on so many internships, and put work before everything else in college not get a job? The thoughts turned into panic, and the panic into mental breakdowns consisting of nights crying on my un-vaccumed floor. My level of career focus was so high there was not even time to clean. And with such neglect to normal college activity, I could not even take to alcohol to soothe my fears as half a glass of anything left me out of commission for a minimum of three days. College had failed me in the two most important categories, careers and beers.

This is the thing about life, we are given these huge daunting signs, and chose to ignore them. We force ourselves down this path that we just KNOW is right. And, for the most part it is. For the most part your instincts, and either continually passing or failing classes in a major, direct you exactly where you’re meant to be. Though, I fell victim to the blame game. I told myself that the reason I wasn’t getting this dream job was due to lack of hard work, or lack of dedication. Even lack of enough clothes. It didn’t matter that my walk-in closet was packed, I blamed my failures on everything I could think of.

It wasn’t until I finally asked myself “why” that things fell into place. Because my why wasn’t actually to be a journalist. My why was to help people. I want to share stories, and bring light to others. I want to show graduates that they can chase a dream, and that hard work does pay off.  I have always told myself that I was meant to be something. It hadn’t occurred to me that being something came in more forms than being seen on TV.

At the mere age of 21 I packed my things and returned to my childhood desk to chase a dream unclear. In the year to follow I googled the definition of marketing, started my own company, learned lessons, moved out of my parents house, and began helping businesses grow. I don’t have a clue where this will all take me. I’m not sure I will still have a job tomorrow. I wish to write books and start talking to others about dreams. I strive every day to do bigger things and do better things. This is my start to being something, failures and all.

Always, Shelby