What do you want to do?
It feels like I’ve been trying to answer that question for a while now. I’m 19, nearly halfway through college and everything seems to be ready to just fall into place. My future seems undecidedly set, and yet I realize that I still have the rest of my life in front of me.
When I was a little kid I dreamed of big things. Things like having a little place of my own. Somewhere that I can find inspiration in all its surroundings, like a treehouse in the Pacific. A lovely climate that caresses every morning with excitement. A place surrounded by imagination. And from that I could write whatever I wanted: prose, poetry, screenplays and stories involving action heroes…I guess these things have been calling out to me for a while now.
There’s some peace in the little writing that I have done these past years. I guess that comes with being an introvert. There’s a sense of reflection, that desire to consistently ask yourself how you are and put forward goals for self-improvement and at the same time, be allowed to push aside the boundaries of reality. It puts me in a comfort zone, and it’s beginning to become something that I’d love to do more than anything. I love writing out the thoughts I don’t know how to say. I love translating the sounds of life that surrounds me into words.
As I grow older it also means that I now have to tend to “grown-up” things. Schooling and working and teaching and cleaning and keeping an engaging social life is a delicate juggling act. It doesn’t give me much time to sit down in a chair and create. My students often look at me and say how they can’t wait to grow up – I can’t imagine what they see in my life that makes them think so! We are told to follow our dreams as we grow up, find the one thing they truly love to do and embrace it. But we are never really told how long this would take.
So, here I am – a soon-to-be teacher who’s stuck between knowing everything and nothing at the same time. There have been repeated messages, paths that have lead me back to the writer’s chair, to my dingy laptop and the open notebook, only for them to intertwine between other pit stops and detours, never fully reaching their destination. I have to chart my own journey now. And if not today, then when? Life’s only going to get busier.