Don’t Go to College Part 8: I’m rich, biotch.
Welcome friends. It seems that I haven’t posted in a while. This is because I’m very important and have to tend to important things from time to time. I wish you wouldn’t be so needy.
You probably want to freshen up on your DGTC history. It’s like re-reading all of the Harry Potter books before you tackle the finale. I can’t believe I just made that reference.
Read. Enjoy. Go to my sponsors. Send money. Or cookies. No, just send money.
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So I hunkered down to become a financial genius. And by hunkered down I mean I did a moderate amount of work and a significant amount of partying. After all, I had just proved myself cool in high school. Shouldn’t I be cool in college? My abercrombie wardrobe sure thought so…
I was semi-serious about my studies. In my second year, I decided to spend a semester abroad in Barcelona. It was the closest I got to actually utilizing the great gift of higher education. It spit me out of my comfort zone and away from the (in my case) developmentally atrophying environment of a small private school. I studied art, history, literature, language, and, to appease my future financier-persona, international business.
I cringe internally when I look back at this juncture in my life. This could have been a turning point for me. Never were subjects that I embraced and loved so starkly juxtaposed with subjects that I thought I would grow to enjoy but secretly despised.
People are always convincing themselves that they really love things that they don’t. I once met a guy who said his passion was manufacturing or supply chain management or something like that. I quietly excused myself, strapped on roller skates, and kicked him in the mouth. Show me someone who says they are enthralled by logistics and I will show you a liar. At best, they are interested in it or find it stimulating. The word love is too lightly used, particularly when it comes to vocation.
After my semester in Barcelona, I came back to my little comfort nest. Except now I was different. I had been abroad*. I was distinguished from my peers in a way that I couldn’t describe and others couldn’t fathom. I began every third sentence with, “Well, in Barcelona…” I can’t imagine how annoying I was. This is something that I still find myself guilty of. Throw a couple pints in me, and I will find a way to mention my travels while insinuating that I’m probably the smartest guy in the bar. It’s horribly embarrassing.
* If I could italicize this any more, I would. Extra slanty.
Hi I'm David. I'm horrendously unphotogenic, so this is as close as you get! Cheers!
September 30th, 2009 at 2:06 pm
This made me think about the commercial a few years back that had a little kid saying “I want to work my way up to middle management.” It made me laugh.
October 5th, 2009 at 7:24 pm
I would like to add when you came back from Barcelona you had spikey hair. Yes spikey hair…..aahh that was great. How did that part get left out?
October 8th, 2009 at 6:47 pm
Oh, how I remember those “Well, in Barcelona…” sentences and stories - they were every sentence though for a while, not every third sentence - get it right
ps…we miss you down here in Georgia, come visit!
January 3rd, 2010 at 5:04 pm
“For money has a power above the stars and fate, to manage love.”