Rant & Rave
Rant & Rave
Growing up really sucks. I'm stuck here in Los Angeles. Well, not really stuck. I guess I chose to stay up here after the academic year for a summer film internship. But I miss my girlfriend. Being away from her is just one way to accent the lonely journey toward adulthood. Reality bites
in Los AngelesThe world has changed even in my time. Walking around, I see 7-year-olds cussing and carrying CD players. I don't think I swore publicly until I started high school at Punahou (great school, not in any way responsible for my potty mouth). I got my first CD player in 11th grade.
This is like discovering you have two legs and must learn to stand all over again. You know what kind of questions run through my head? Here are a few: How do I enter the movie industry? What happens if I don't make it? Will I ever be able to move back to Hawaii? Will my girlfriend break up with me when I study in China in the fall? If I get a car, do I make enough money to pay for insurance and gas, in addition to paying college loans, rent, electricity, gas and phone bills? Should I stick out this crappy job or find something better?
Growing up sucks not only because of responsibility, but also because of the cynicism it brings. Working at the gift department at the USC bookstore really chips away at your school pride. People, is it really that hard to put a shirt back on a hanger? I think this is why parents ask their kids to fold their own clothes -- because adults don't have a clue how to do it. Sorry if we don't carry your size in that style at the moment, but you know, sometimes s-- happens.
Life is not much fun anymore. It's not like third grade when I finished homework in 30 minutes and then rushed out to play football until dinner. It's not even like high school when I worried about getting a B on a silly paper.
Now, I have to feed my own sorry ass. Once I get off work, I have to cook, then wash the dishes and iron my clothes for my internship the next day. By then I'm beat. Then there's vacuuming, cleaning the toilet and sink and finding quarters for the laundry machine. How the heck do I muster the energy to write screenplays?
Why can't I be like other Asian kids and be content with being a doctor, lawyer, businessman or dentist, or any occupation 10 out of 10 Asian mothers recommend? Why do I have to be an aspiring filmmaker? Why do I have this compulsion to create? Why do I hate seeing what's on today's screens so much that I feel the urge to make a better film? Why'd I have the confidence (or naiveté) to think I can do a better job?
Perhaps the scariest revelation may be that nothing is absolute. You can't always depend on your parents; they are only human and don't have all the answers. Love is tumultuous. As for jobs, doing your best is not enough; you need to kiss someone's ass to move up.
Seeing that abyss below your feet is frightening, but tough. The only thing that you can control and depend on is you. And don't try to make sense of an absurd world, or else you'll go insane. You have to look inside yourself, suck it up and realize: Yes, the world is difficult, but don't be a crybaby about it.
Alan Khamoui is a 1999 graduate of
Punahou School who is attending USC.Rant & Rave allows those 12 to 22
to serve up fresh perspectives. Speak up by snail mail:
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