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Hello. My name is Hayley. I’ll be your tour guide for this particular post. Please keep your hands, feet, objects and unkind words inside the post and to yourself at all times. (Or whatever they used to tell me in elementary school. I always felt that ‘objects’ was code for ‘penis’.) So do that too. Keep your penis inside the post until the post has come to a complete stop. Thank you.

After that lovely intro, why don’t I tell you a bit about myself and how I came to be on postblink. Well, we can skip that crap about me because we know you don’t want to hear it. At least not now. How I came to be, you ask? It’s easy. When you date the creator’s best friend, you get the hookup. Thus, my writing here begins. Which is actually convenient for me. Because….see, I lied to you all already. I am going to tell you about me. Ready?

I’m a college freshman. At the beginning of the year, I thought I had it all figured out. I was majoring in art and design with the idea in my head that I was going to become a new kind of interior decorator. Not for the masses like that shit on HGTV. I wanted to design homes and spaces for people who had a bit of flair and knew what they wanted but were unable to do it themselves. I would be the creator of the swanky. Everyone knows the art kids on campus are ZoMg AwEsOmE!!!11! But that dream was shattered. When I began my first semester I had no idea that the first year program was a weed out, shall we say. In other words, there are way too many people wanting to apply for art programs, thus they had to make the core design program to break us down and get rid of some of us. Way to go Iowa State! I hacked along throughout the semester in the feared and loathed Design Studio 102. Any ISU art kids reading this will suddenly be cowering in the corners. I worked on their asinine projects. I wasted hours, nay days, of my life doing it. Miraculously, I passed!

I came into the second semester with a new feeling of hope. I’d made it through the rough part and now I was on my way. But clearly I’m feeling too happy now so let’s rain on my parade. My friend Garret announced that he quit the program. Talk about laughing at a drowning woman. Throw me a fucking life raft here! Now I had to get through it alone. Ok, Design Studio 131, let’s do this! As they say for Donkey Kong, it is ON! (In retrospect, it was not on.) I cannot draw. Drawing is really not a concern of mine for what I wanted to do in the future. This class was supposed to be teaching us to draw. Eff that noise! I had no idea what was going on half the time. I just kept putting shit on paper hoping the professor wouldn’t stop and stare at it too much. After about two weeks I couldn’t take it anymore. Iowa State had succeeded in making me hate my hobby. Bastards. Remembering Garret, I found the strength to quit. It just wasn’t worth it to stay. Being an art student is like repeatedly hitting a bullet with a hammer; you can probably get away with it for a little while and feel really smug that you’re doing it but eventually it’s going to blow up in your face. Considering the ass rape that it is to be in art, and the frantic worry about making it into your program and the like, it took nearly no time at all to get out. I met with my academic adviser, who I might add is the worst adviser in the world. She gave me my folder, signed her name and I was out the door. I collected three more signatures and suddenly the weight of an art portfolio was off my shoulders. I was FREE. I was taking my hobby back. Creating things was fun again, not pointless busy work. (i.e. making a pair of fucking vise grips out of nothing but paper and thread.)

So for most of this semester I’ve been an open/undeclared major. That made me feel like an ass hat because as you’ll recall from above, I thought I had it all figured out and now I was sitting with nothing and no idea what I wanted to do with my life anymore. After that long period of time, I finally figured it out. I’m going to major in English like I wanted to when I was a high school freshman. No, not to be a frickin’ teacher. I wanna be a writer. Sure, I will likely be homeless, but hey, I’ll be enjoying my time. I can write my bestseller on the inside walls of my box. If I should happen to hit it big, like say Harry Potter, then awesome. I’ll be paid royalties out the ass for movie rights, and merchandise. Get some! Which is why writing for this place is also convenient for me. I get to practice writing to entertain and I also think I’m funny, damn it. The End.

About The Author -  It's just me, myself, and I. Your window into my world. Buckle up babe, it's gonna be one hell of a ride, because I live for the moment, I dance to the beat of my own drum, I sing to pretend I'm a rock star, I love you like there's no tomorrow, I rock your effing face off, I am your giggle fest, I am your crying shoulder, I'm just a girl, I AM Hayley. Read more from this author

education, personal art, writing