Tag Archive | high school

the “c” word


That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. College.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about whether or not I want to go. Obviously my parents want me to. The hard part is trying to factor in whether or not that really matters to me. You see, I want to be a dancer, there’s no mistake about that. The question is, how do I get there? I don’t want to be a ballerina. Contemporary and commercial dance are where my heart’s at. I don’t necessarily need to go to college to be able to do those, I just think my parents believe that all successful roads in life start with university.

The problem, part two: I don’t want to waste the first four years of my adulthood, when I could be joining a company/agency or getting better training and seeing the world (London, specifically), trapped taking jazz and working towards a useless bachelor’s degree. I wanna do exciting things and meet exciting people. I want to dance.

Some of my friends’ life goals look like this: graduate high school, go to college and get a meaningless degree, and maybe work a little bit before marrying a dude and raising his family. I’d rather not. I have ambitions. Every day college starts to seem less like an achievement to aspire towards and more like a roadblock on the path to what I really want to do. I’m in the eleventh grade and the reason for everything I do nowadays has been reduced to “It’ll look good on your transcript.”

I overheard a conversation between a friend and his mother when they were the car yesterday. He told her that he didn’t want to go to uni because voice acting was the career he was after, which made college somewhat unnecessary. His mother said to him, “Will you feel the same way when you can’t feed your own family?” and that swiftly ended the conversation. Tense silence in the car.

Our parents just want the best for us. But I’m not ready to dedicate more anxiety, time, and money thinking about something that will determine the course of my adulthood. It’s too big for sixteen. I just want to dance honestly.

— Bethany.

we like archaic kinds of fun


Hello, everyone, it’s Bethany. Been a while, hasn’t it?

Me and the girls haven’t been on the blog too much lately, I know. Sorry about that. I just wanted to get on here and give some updates on what we’ve been doing this winter. It’s been quite eventful for us, and I’m really excited to see how the rest of 2014 plays out.

Maddie started college this term. Hopefully she’ll be on here within the next couple of weeks to talk about that. She’s decided she wants to study to become an engineer, which I think is very fitting for her. She has started going to TNCC to study all her necessary intro college classes and, this is my opinion, I think she’s enjoying it. For the longest time she had no idea what, exactly she wanted to do with her life, so I’m glad that she’s found something to study.

Krysta is working as per usual. She’s the only one out of the three of us who has a steady job, go figure. We see each other more now that the new year has started; which is great considering we’re both so busy.

As for me? Dancing, dancing, dancing. My time is split somewhat equally between ballet, theatre, schoolwork, and writing. My music is becoming more important to me now as well. All my energy is geared towards finishing high school and muting the stress with my outlets. To be honest I think chaos is the nicest way to occupy oneself.

So that’s what we’ve been up to lately, I hope you’ve all had amazing winter breaks.

— Bethany.

girls just wanna have funds


It’s my birthday today. Turning sixteen has always been depicted in movies as a big deal for a girl, but for me it’s just another road sign on the path to finding a job. I have been looking for places to work for about two months now, but haven’t really seen anything I like yet (I know what you’re thinking: “Silly Bethany! You’re not supposed to like your first job!” but I’m not a fan of pointless experiences, so I want to like it at least a little). Truth is, on the inside I feel about thirty years old, but on the outside I look about thirteen; those two things simultaneously make it difficult for me to find places of employment that will both accept and suit me.

This weekend I’ll be having a proper birthday slumber party in true American fashion, with junk food, a Doctor Who marathon, and about twelve other sixteen-ish girls. Lots of my friends have jobs now (Anna works at Dairy Queen, Krysta is a part-time nanny, etc.), so late on Saturday night I’ll probably get to ask them some questions about the whole “working girl” thing. One thing I do know is that I do not want to babysit. Some girls adore children and like taking care of them for long periods of time on a regular basis (like my friend Ahna-Louise, who wants to be a teacher), but that’s not really my thing. My younger sister is only three years my junior and she’s pretty good at taking care of herself, so I don’t have much experience in this field.

In a perfect world, where ballet classes are free and Niall Horan from One Direction is my boyfriend, I’d be able to do the kind of short-term work I would prefer: waitressing or retail. I can fold clothes, I can smile and carry things; these jobs are ideal for me. But, being as young as I am, it’s a little difficult to secure a steady income anywhere. Krysta and Maddie, the other co-owners of this blog, are both older than me, and as far as I know they didn’t have a hard time getting their jobs. Le sigh.

Long-story-short, it’s my sixteenth birthday (and yes, I always have birthdays in the middle of the week. Leap years screw it up for me), and I need a job so I can write up a well-functioning budget plan. I’m the one who likes to make lists and charts and itineraries. Ask Maddie and Krysta.

I’m one step closer to England today. (:

— Bethany.

Maddie’s First Job (And Other Traumatic Things)

Hello, homo sapiens, and my fellow not-so-homo sapiens! How are y’all doin’? Well, it’s my turn to report. I was forced by my fellow cohorts in crime to get to thinking about what to write next. So I thought, “What have I got going on in my life? Nothing, self, nothing!” But that’s not true. I gots me a job!

I work for my Uncle John. Of course we’re not actually related; he was deemed my uncle by the ancient customs of the “Bro Code.” I work for him painting game pieces. The game pieces I paint are 10 millimeter-scaled war figurines, and they have to be historically accurate and extremely detailed. These game pieces are used to play “war games,” and although I would like to explain what, exactly “war games” are, all I really know is that there are rules, dice, a board (which is usually several tables large), and figurines. And I think that I do an okay job on them; it does take me forever to paint them though. This sucks because I get paid by the figurine; so some days I make $40 and others I make about $8.

The reason I had to get this job is because, for a seventeen-year-old girl, I have really bad legs. “Oh no! What’s wrong with your legs Maddie?” you ask. Well, it all started when I was thirteen, and I started having pain in my knees. The pain slowly got worse and worse, for about a year until I became a high school freshman. My mom ended up taking me to the doctor, and a couple misdiagnoses later it was decided that I had terrible maul alignment in my legs. That means that my femur twists one way and my shin bone twists the opposite direction (if ever there was a time for One Direction, that would be it); and it was scaring my cartilage away. Long-story-short, I had my first surgery at fifteen and a couple ones after that due to a relapse.

Two whole years later I’m still in physical therapy and my two friends have this plan to go live abroad in England. It sounded cool, and I didn’t have a single clue as to what to do with my future, so I hopped on board. Of course, this meant that I needed a job, and I was still pretty messed up from all the physical trauma, so my dad talked to my Uncle John, and that’s how I got my job.

So now that I have my job I’m of course saving all the money that I can. My plan is to save as much as I possibly can. And I’m trying to get my mom to come with me to the bank so that I can open a savings account, because I have a feeling that squirreling away hundreds of dollars in your books on your book shelf is a bad idea.

Till I write to you next, my dears,