defining entropy

When I'm at work, I loathe running into high school classmates.  When they see me, they ask one of two questions, or sometimes both:  "What are you doing here?" and/or "What happened with art school?"  It hurts me deeply because there's a perceived failure there, like I either dropped out or flunked.  Because, really, who has a bachelor's degree and works some crappy part-time retail job?  Well, me, of course.  In my defense, however, that does seem to be more the norm these days.  Work is hard to find for many people all around.  Good work is even harder.

But that doesn't stop me from feeling like a loser.

Por example, I was at work the other day, ringing up a lady when a girl I went to high school with passed by and recognized me.  She was the most popular girl in my grade, dare I say the most popular girl in the school.   Her parents were teachers at our school so everyone kissed her butt, adults and kids alike.

"Hey Brannon!" she called out.  I looked over the pile of clothes on my counter and saw her.  It took a second to register her face.  I haven't seen this girl since high school graduation nearly eight years ago so her physical appearance had changed.  She looked more mature, slimmer, prettier.  And there I was, overweight, unshaven, and sweating from the heat in the store and the heavy belly fat around my waist like a sauna suit.

Crap, I thought to myself.  I said hello and asked how she was and she said she was fine and asked me the same thing.

"Fantastic," I said with more than a hint of sarcasm in my voice.  She carried on and I finished ringing up the lady and then wanted to run out in traffic.  Why her of all people?  Why that day when I looked worse than usual?  Why did I have to run into her at all?

I wasn't exactly unpopular in high school but I wasn't beloved by the masses.  I always felt slightly skanky, not because I actually was but because I was such a mess with my weight and bad skin and other physical flaws that ate away any confidence I should have been building during those crucial years.  I didn't wear great looking clothes because nothing ever fit me correctly and I just didn't know how to dress myself properly.  I hung out with the rejects and pseudo goths.  I wasn't preppy or popular and I didn't exactly mind but I always felt I was looked down upon.
 
And I always said I'd graduate from high school and get myself together physically and emotionally and get a great job and show those snooty high school classmates that I wasn't white trash.

But as much as I've tried to fight it throughout the years, I can't.  I am white trash.  And I proved it to the most popular girl in school the day she saw me working in a low-rent retail clothing shop.  Naturally, I heard she's gone on to do quite well for herself, marrying a gentleman with a great job.  She's set for life.  She'll end up having a couple of kids and everything will be puppy dogs and ice cream for her.  Why shouldn't it be?  It always has been for her.

And why shouldn't my life be depressing?  It always has been for me.

A part of me wanted to follow her, to defend my achievements (dean's list!  cum laude!  Glenn Close at my graduation!) and go into a spiel about graduating but just not being able to find work in my field.  But I never tell them my filthy little secret:  I never even tried to find work in my field.

Even before I graduated, I had second thoughts about being an animator.  All of my classmates were so much better and more passionate than I was and the industry is so competitive and I knew I didn't stand much of a chance against my peers.  I even had a professor tell our class we weren't good enough to find a job right out of college.  He didn't even say it to be a jerk.  He had a point.  We had just learned the basics of animation, had just scratched the surface of everything there was to learn.

In my three years of college, I took twenty-seven courses and only around five of them were actual animation classes.  The rest was foundation fluff to inflate my tuition fees.  The best part was we were supposed to pull our best work from those five animation classes, which were all introductory.  Many of these pieces were our very first animations.  We basically had to pull together our best practice pieces and that doesn't make for a compelling portfolio.

Becoming an artist was something I almost feel I was pigeon-holed into doing.  I don't want to blame anyone because ultimately it was my choice to do this but everyone just expected me to be an artist because I was pretty talented at the time and it just felt natural for me to go that route.  I was so convinced by everyone else's conviction that I never took the time to explore or purse other passions.  Not until it was too late.  I fell in love with writing during my time in college but I was months away from graduation at that point, which wasn't the best time to switch my major.  I decided to continue on with animation.  Besides, I was always told it was easier to get a job with any kind of degree because it showed you were disciplined and could do good work.

But all of that is hard to explain to someone, ya feel me?  So I just say work is scarce and then slink off to the shoe department to devour a couple of desiccants.

This just isn't the kind of life I wished for myself.  This isn't what I worked so hard to achieve.  I did everything I thought I was supposed to do.  I made excellent grades throughout middle and high school, community college all the way up to university.  I didn't get distracted by drugs or drinking and I worked hard and studied hard, all to end up at the bottom.  I know the world doesn't owe me anything.  I also know my existence disproves good karma.  That doesn't make any of it easier to accept.

I just feel like I've worked so hard only to be embarrassed by those who have done better for themselves at a fraction of the cost and struggle.  I'm not above my job but I do feel I have more to offer than folding shirts and taking crap (sometimes literally) from entitled customers.  I feel bad enough about where I am without having to feel the shame of it every time I see an old classmate, especially a popular one.  It's like, "Yep, there's Brannon.  He wasn't much in high school and I see he still isn't.  No big surprise.  Someone's gotta keep the low class clothed."

Yeah, at least I'm working.  That's something.  And no, I shouldn't care what anyone else thinks about me because no one knows what I've endured but I've just always been preoccupied with other people's opinions of me.  It's something I've got to work on.  Of course, the biggest thing I've got to work on is the low opinion I have of myself.

I'm just tired of feeling like I have to define my gradual unraveling, constantly having to explain why I am where I am and who I've become.  It shouldn't matter and shouldn't really be anyone's business, especially to people who don't matter to me.  As I said, I haven't seen the girl in approximately eight years and don't care to ever see her again so why should her opinion matter so much?

I wouldn't feel so down on myself if I was at least working toward something.  I'd like to go back to school but I have no idea what I'd like to study.  Well, I do.  I'd like to study writing but, just with animation, it's not practical.  I just wish I could be interested in something that would allow me to break free from my small town.  Why can't I be like, "Yeah, I'm jazzed about being an accountant!"  I'm no longer working on my book due to chronic laziness/fear of rejection.  I'm basically whiling away the days with zombie games and bad television.  I suppose my concentration on losing weight has trumped everything else.  I'm not good at multi-tasking.  One crisis at a time, I guess.