Internet, I have to tell you something. Knowing me now, this may not come as a total shock, but the truth is that I used to be a pretentious bitch (HAHAHAHAHAHAHA—I’m still that way, it’s a joke, yo). Why, pray tell, did I have this revelation this week? We’ve had to do a few “reflective” exercises about our high school and college years, and I was reminded of two particular things that were exceptionally annoying about me.
In sixth grade, I read a book that remains one of my favorite young adult novels, Here’s To You, Rachel Robinson. Rachel is a teenager who is practically perfect to an adult: she plays the flute, listens to classical music, gets perfect grades and has OCD about her room being perfectly clean. Around the same time, I read a Sweet Valley High novel about a model student (the title escapes me, and I scoured Amazon to no avail). Jessica and Elizabeth (who stood at 5″6, wore a size six, had sparkling eyes the color of the ocean and drove a red Fiat! Dumb bitches!) were competing to become the Model Student of Sweet Valley, and doing things like making a checklist of chores and arranging their perfectly ironed outfits.
Anyways, at age 12, I decided to make these book characters my idols. I began reading Shakespeare, cleaning my room, doing perfect work, practicing my clarinet and basically being annoying. I remember chastising my dad for playing rock music at a slightly elevated volume, something I considered highly irritating. I thought that this was the ideal to lust after…until I discovered Green Day, started middle school and decided I liked No Doubt, being slightly irresponsible and enjoying myself.
Sadly, my pretentiousness didn’t stop there. No, I’m quite ashamed to say that when I started college, I had quite a love affair with the idea of getting a Ph.D. I envisioned myself being called “Dr.” and having some 50 page thesis to my credit. I loved the idea of studying for years, and then emerging, a totally respected, educated person.
Sounds fine, right? Except for one line I grew quite fond of. People would ask me when my ex and I were going to have kids, and that, my friends, is where I’d say this:
“My first born’s name will be Ph.D.”
Yes, this line came out of my mouth more than once. In fact, a lot more than once.
While I am still a snob sometimes, still enjoy classical music, and still want to go to grad school, if you ever, EVER hear me uttering anything as pretentious and annoying as that, PLEASE PUNCH ME IN THE FACE.