OK, here is an unnecessary breakdown of “the life and times of Andie Gomez,” in blog form. Sorry. Memoir soon (as in 10+ years) to follow.
(1990 – ?) I was a complete terror of a human being from the time I could form a sentence. A foul-mouthed rebel without a cause (at least in my own mind), I spent the majority of my adolescence stripped of the priveleges enjoyed by my peers … including a brief period without a bedroom door circa 2004. (I don’t even want to GO there.)
Cut to: Despite my constant rule-bending in school – particularly my blatant disregard for my high school’s attendance policy – I miraculously graduated in May 2008.
Cut to (exactly two weeks later!): A relatively harmless misstep which shall remain unacknowledged until my future memoir … or an FBI background check for the genuinely curious.
Cut to: BSing my way through my B.A. (I know, I am oh-so wonderfully clever). Andie Gomez: Political Scientist. That’s how bachelors degrees work, non?
Cut to: As has been the case for the past year, what the hell am I doing in LA? I’m not an aspiring actor (or anything, really), and aside from my shameless addiction to the E! network, my interest in the entertainment industry is basically nonexistent. Damn you and your perfect weather, you terrible West Coast city.
For those of you haven’t been religiously following the intimate details of my life as outlined in previous blogs, here is a brief overview. (Disclaimer: most of it bores even me. Feel free to stop reading now … mom, that includes you.)
Since 2012ish, my life has been a blur of fledgling startups, unemployment, underemployment, and a series of painfully cliche quarterlife crisis bullshit. Oh, the angst and drama! I’m still uncertain as to how I made it out of college with a degree in anything other than advanced slackerism (thank you ASU), but I did it so who the hell cares how I got there?! Slightly off-topic, I know, but I’m allowed SOME bragging rights for graduating from the renowned Harvard of the Southwest. Whatever.
This may be a different topic for a different day – and likely is – but it seems like a fitting conclusion. Maybe, maybe not. You tell me (or better yet, keep it to yourself).
Although I expend a borderline excessive amount of energy criticizing the aspiring actors/directors/circus clowns I encounter on a daily basis living in LA, I can’t help but admire their tenacity. Take their oftentimes outlandish dreams out of the equation, we (the aspiring so-and-sos and I) actually have at least one thing in common – raw fucking ambition. Yes, I may think most of their “dreams” are flat out idiotic and delusional, but at least they’re clinging to SOMETHING. While I have the drive to be “insanely great,” I unquestionably lack the relative insanity needed to work toward – or even identify – a specific life goal.
Unless, of course, you count working at my leisure on projects I deem worthy of my time a 5-year plan … (to be continued)