To be a sophomore again…but I wouldn’t want to. Of course, there were some really good times, but no, I wouldn’t want to do it all over again. Plus in my mind at least (and perhaps a few others’) I was kind of awkward – even more so than now, if you can imagine that.
Yet awkwardness aside, without sounding too conceited, I have to say, going through my old high school sophomore/junior year notebook, I find myself sort of pleasantly surprised by the little wisdoms in the notes in the margins that I wrote to no one in particular, except maybe to future-me.
I honestly had no clue what I was going to write about this week, so on the off-chance that anyone’s actually reading this right now, I hope you too find some wisdoms from your own past as well.
With every choice, there is a gain and loss. You can’t force yourself to love something – it was there all along…In circumstances like these, you learn just how much you were meant to be in a place only after you had traveled a different road for so long.
Last night as I was “studying” in the commons in my dorm complex, I was struggling to find something utterly profound to write for this week. Then, one of my hallmates entered the scene, and we got into conversation about possible majors she had narrowed her choices to. As our hour-long conversation was nearing its close, I said to her, “Choose something that you could see yourself doing for the rest of your life” and alluded to the old Confucius quote, “Choose a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.” Then I realized that much of what we were conversing about related to my May entry.
Even now I worry about how in the world I’m going to make a living with my current major and minor (English and Journalism). In a perfect world, I’ll be living in my swanky bachelorette apartment, being bossly in a top-notch publishing/editing firm whilst donning an awesome business blazer, and jet-setting to various countries for both work-related purposes and leisure. Oh yeah, and become the next Suzanne Collins in my spare time.
In the real world, I know that I’ll be more likely to start off interning for a very small paycheck. But going back to Confucius, I know that at the time when I wrote this May entry, I was going through an academic related semi-crisis. In short, I was determining if writing was something that I could do without, career-wise. I knew it wasn’t a glamorous field. I still know that.
But I knew that if I had chosen a secure route, such as the sciences, yes I’d have a comfortable paycheck, but I’d probably die early of depression or something from hating my job so much that I wouldn’t get to enjoy spending that hefty paycheck. I considered business too – but I hate numbers. Unless it’s my starting salary, with a bunch of zeroes interspersed between multiple commas. I even thought about minoring in pre-law this year, but quickly decided against it, as I had been considering this possibility with wrong motives.
I’m obviously not a successful writer at the moment, at least not by the world’s standards. But I do enjoy writing these weekly postings whole-heartedly, even if my readership is limited to my parents, sister, and a few Facebook friends.
But something my Dad said a year ago still resonates with me now. As I proudly read to him one of my blog postings for a class, he said nothing for a few moments and said to my mom, “I think our daughter’s meant to be a writer.” Or something like that. Whatever the exact words, the message remains clear to me.
Of course, I still don’t know what exactly it is I will do with my life, nor where I go from here. Whether I’m the shark in the PR world or a columnist struggling to pay rent each month, I have a pretty good feeling that I’ll be okay, as long as I’m not – in light of Confucius’ definition of work – working for a living, so much as enjoying what it is that I’m doing, that I just happen to earn a living from.
And with that said…
It’s frightening to know that I’ll never what will happen a year or a hundred years from now – but it’s a beautiful thing too.