The thing about being raised in Catholic schools for more than 3/4 of my life is that it sucks when that Catholic guilt catches up to you. Like this morning. My family hasn’t been to Mass in forever… I on the other hand went to Easter Sunday Mass at St. Patricks Cathedral (let’s be honest, it was because I was there anyways for the Easter bonnet parade…duh). We’re also embarking on a trip to Spain / France / Italy, so that being said, it wouldn’t hurt to remind God that we’re still Catholics (kind of). Sunday morning Mass was less than enjoyable. Crying children, the droning of the church choir… I remembered exactly why I disliked going to Mass. But at some point during the hour long obligatory stand and sit charade, I stopped zoning out long enough to hear the priest talk. “… People are losing what their purpose is in life… We need to reflect on what our purpose is in life”.
Now hold up. Don’t you dare think I’m going into some holier than thou, preach at me, type shit. Because I’m not. I’m not religious, but I would say I’m spiritual. Anyways, I decided to zone out the rest of the lecture, and really think about what the priest said. What IS my purpose in life? What am I doing here? Obviously the Church wants you to think about this, and miraculously come to the realization that “My purpose is to love and serve God! Hallelujah!” This girl? No. Instead, I thought about it, and came up with a few ideas. My possible purposes in life…
Marry rich. Consequently, become a housewife (with no children of course… its MY life), and possibly a Real Housewife of New York City (to be honest, as much as we love to make fun of / laugh at these gold digging/”self made” socialites, it would be kickass to be in their shoes – very nice Louboutins might I add). This could be my purpose in life… I mean, SOMEONE has to do it, right?
Be a power yuppie. Power lunches, power yoga flow, powerful career, power, power, power. My work will be my life, because I love it so much. I love my career, but not as much as I will love my dog that will be my only companion. I will probably be single into my 30s, thus, creating a mission for my friends to set me up with someone that I should marry. You know, like one of those movies based in NYC. My parents will be proud of my success, but will be completely embarrassed when I show up to their 50th wedding anniversary party alone.
Raise children and be a stay at home mom. Who am I kidding. This is definitely NOT my purpose in life. But I bet if you go to some different parts in the USA (AKA Republican territory), or different cultures, they’d argue that as a woman, its your duty to childbear. Fuck. No. I don’t even like kids, in fact, toddlers and babies make me very uneasy and pretty damn nervous. Not happening.
Be a wine connoisseur. Contrary to what you may think, I happen to have a discriminating taste for wines. But the good news is, I love them all! Zinfandels, chardonnays, cabernet sauvignons, merlots, pinot noirs, rieslings, champagnes, sparkling wines, especially roses… they all work for me. I’m really good at drinking them all. I already drink wine like its my job anyways.
Grow into an old, single, spinster. I will quilt, and do arts and crafts and then sell them on Etsy, thereby supporting myself on the little profit I make… Basically I will live off of foodstamps, and the kindness of my family who feels sorry for me so they occasionally will send me money, but never visit me because that’s crazy Auntie Maddy. This is very plausible.
I think this a solid set of possible life choices. Right? I still have some time to figure out what to do with my life. I think I’m going to take a little hiatus from the world, and make like Julia Roberts and Eat, Pray, Love and maybe, just maybe, I’ll figure out what exactly I should do with my life. In the meantime, I will be avoiding Church like the plague (there’s some biblical allusion for you right there! Get it? Like the plagues of Egypt? Ha. Ha.), because all I do is think about what a shitty person I am and that I have done nothing of consequence in my twenty years of life.
But seriously, can we go over this again? … I actually went to Church. I’m not bragging or anything… its more of disbelief.