RD3: I'm Only Twenty-Two

Kathryn Yadao
1 April 2011
RD3

My desk is a mess. My desk is littered with receipts, tissues blotted with lipstick marks, envelopes with barely legible scribble, and bottles of nail polish. My desk has absolutely no space for writing anything down – only corners are vacant. My computer screen glows in the dimness, lighting up various colors of nail polish bottles, giving them a wash of cool glow. I cradle my cheek in the palm of my hand, sighing. I make internal promises to myself to clean it all up and maintain cleanliness, but I know it’s not going to happen. This is the life of a beauty blogger, mess and all. Is this the life for me? Is it the life I want? [THESIS]The truth is that I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my years on this earth.[/THESIS]

When I was eleven, I decided I wanted to live in Oregon (because I thought it would be a great temperature there, not as hot as California and not as cold as Washington) and be an epidemiologist. I was engrossed in medical thriller books, and was convinced I wanted to work for the CDC, or USAMRIID, just like the heroes in those books. And then I realized that I’d have to deal with sick people. I’d have to deal with strange viruses. And a high chance of contracting Ebola and have to wear those scary bio-hazard suits. I realized that I’d have to travel, and live somewhere else, away from mommy and daddy. Suddenly, I was content with keeping those epidemiologists in my books, bound with string, on pages.

When I was twelve, I decided to be a pastry chef. Now, at twelve years old, there was not much I could do in the kitchen. I was also fearful of sharp things and heat. Oh, did I say was? I meant is. Anyway, my mom decided it would be fun if we took a Wilton cake decorating class together at our local craft shop. Sure, I was the only one there under fifty, but it was fun, nonetheless. I remember getting my own tool kit of different icing tips, piping bags, and icing dyes. We also had a cool practice piping book, with real pictures of different techniques under a sheet of plastic, so we could practice without having to bake a cake. Mom and I baked cakes almost weekly. We bought Crisco in bulk, and I learned to make different types of frosting consistencies. Anytime there was an occasion, I made a cake. We soon got sick of frosting, clogging the sink, stuck in every crevice of all my tools. I remember once I baked a cake and brought it to school for everyone to share, and the other girls thought I was weird for baking a random cake. It was then that I decided it wasn’t cool anymore, as puberty hit me like a sack of potatoes.

When I was sixteen, I got my first job, and realized the power and importance of money. It was then that I half decided to go into the Radiologic Technology program at my local community college. Upon graduating at seventeen, I went to Kapiolani Community College majoring in liberal arts, just to get the feel for college. I ended up dropping out, three times. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to make a decision. So I took on two part-time jobs, and worked. I worked, and worked, and worked even more. I realized that I liked money. I liked having it, I liked spending it, and I liked working for it. I told my mom that I was going to work three jobs and quit school. She basically said no, and told me she’d finance my schooling if I went back. I decided that because I liked money so much, I’d better major in something that made me money. I decided to go to business school.

Business school was fun. I went into the Accounting program and made friends. Business school was easy. I loved the click-clack of the computer keys, the slamming of the locker doors (yes, in business school), and the quiet laughter of friends in the computer lab. Eighteen months later, I graduated with my Associates degree in accounting with high honors. I learned about assets and expenses, stocks and bonds, and a million other things I can no longer remember. I learned how to use QuickBooks, Excel, and how to manage my own budget. I learned a lot about the business world, and how sometimes, it’s about who you know, not what you know. I met a lot of great people at that school. I got a lot of contacts, and it lead me to a job where I learned a lot about accounting and office work, and more importantly about myself.

This is where my path diverges. This is where things get hazy and not so straightforward. After leaving the job I got through business school, my life was in shambles. That job wasn’t for me. I started questioning things. Did I make the right choice? Did I waste tens of thousands of dollars of my mom’s money? Did I waste my time? I was broken. I felt stupid and lost, and back at square one. I felt like I had made one of the biggest mistakes of my life, getting my accounting degree. I hated accounting. I hated thinking about other people’s money. I hated myself for second guessing myself, wondering if I made a mistake, wondering if I’d be punished for it. But those nine months taught me a lot about what I could do, as long as I put my mind to it. I learned a lot from faking confidence and responsibility, because I realized I was no longer faking it. I was confident and responsible. I became an adult.

At that job, I met a good friend of mine that recently graduated with her Master’s degree in business. She’s only one year older than me, and I was inspired to go back to school because of her success. I left that job with the curiosity of nutrition and health science, because while I was making good money there, I’d hired a personal trainer. I had dreams of becoming a nutritionist, or a registered dietitian, and helping people fight through their demons or ailments. I wanted to be a superhero! But, I realized I had some demons of my own to conquer first. How can I help someone without first taking my own advice? Nutrition is still on the horizon for me. But I know I have to come to terms with my own problems before I can help others.

Nutrition and health then lead me to beauty, which is my current interest. It’s a fun hobby, I admit. It gives me confidence to look pretty, plain and simple. It gives me confidence to know what I’m talking about. It gives me compassion to help others feel that way about themselves, too. But it also gives me a sense of self to know that the beauty industry can be superficial and self-serving. Sometimes I feel like I’m going down the wrong path, only enhancing distorted images of myself and of others. Sometimes I just feel like I’m contributing to eating disorders and plastic surgery by making sure I look a certain way. But sometimes it’s just fun. Reading my website is free. I buy my own products for review. I don’t make any money at all by doing this. I do makeup and nails for me, to feel good, to feel ready to take on the world.

Can I turn this into a career? Who knows? In the recent months I’ve discovered things about myself. I wasn’t ready for a full class load. I have to focus on my health before I can make career decisions. I learned that while I was so concerned of maximizing the efficiency of my education and time, I was missing out on my life. I was killing myself, trying to stick to this ultimate age plan of getting everything done before I turned thirty. I’m coming to terms with understanding that I have a lot of time. I don’t have to do everything right now. I was the only one pressuring myself to live up to this warped goal in my head. I am my worst critic.

The few things I do know, I will take with me. I love to write. I love to blog. I love to make people feel good about themselves. I love medicine. I love learning. I love that my desk is messy with nail polish and lipstick tissues. And I love that I don’t need to make a decision right now. I’m only twenty-two.