Ponder

Every year it seems I go through this phase where I have a minor freak-out about my life. Well, maybe not so minor, as I'm sure many people can attest to the fact that I mull endlessly over the same subjects, going forward in such away that I arc around, ending back where I started. Just going in circles, repeatedly. And in the end I do nothing, decide nothing, or come to some definitive conclusion that two minutes later will be nullified by a new thought on my part. Sometimes I wonder how my friends put up with these circuitous conversations of mine that usually involve me responding to their suggestions with an "I know" and basically just answering my own questions with more questions.
The problem is, I feel I have absolutely no clue what I'm doing. Probably something akin to what every university student feels, I wonder at what exactly I am studying, why, what I'm going to do with it, and am I likely to actually have a career after this... Right now, I am a declared international development, spanish, and minor in journalism student. But I have a problem with that. First off, I didn't really want to do international development- it's too ideological. I want something concrete, something practical- I dont want to study the theories of development or argue the definition of a developing country. The fact of the matter is, those are just arguments based on every conceivable different perception people could have- and as much as those are interesting, they don't offer any sort of solution to the problems that exist.
So, in short, I found my major to be too fluffy; and dropped the 2nd half of the course.
In the end, I've decided to try and go for Middle Eastern Studies- I love Arabic, and for some oddish reason I am drawn to the history, stories, and culture of the Middle East, North Africa, and further. I suppose that that interest was first sparked when I noticed in Central America the extent of influence the Arabs have over Spanish Culture. Every other girl in Guatemala was being being christened Fatima- a phenomenon in my eyes as that name is that of the Prophet. Not something I'd expected in the middle of Central America, a predominantly Catholic and sex-obssessed part of the world.
I also remember a chocolate shop run by a man named Abderahman, whom everyone called Ishmael since they couldnt pronounce his name. But I loved it, the way the mouth comes together then parts, the toungue touching the roof, flattening, fluttering for the rrr, and the tip carressing the breath of the h in the middle. His accent, the chocolate and the strange fact that Arabs were present in this place that breathed and lived in color and heat etched in me a curiosity for the culture that has driven me to study it today.
It's all well and easy to romantisize about this passion for Arab and Hispanic culture. In order to study the Middle East however, I need to transfer. Easier said than done. I'm currently in limbo for next year as I wait for McGill's rejection or acceptance. I'd apply to U of T, but right now the finances will only allow for applications to one school.
Then comes the bit that has been driving me loony for the past few weeks.
What do I do after? What sort of career am I looking at? Work in the foreign service? For the States? Which, I'm sorry, but after living in Canada for the past few years, doesnt feel all that much like home? Oooorrrr, say I do take up journalism. I hate that sort of writing. Business? Um, no. Not an option. Not even conceivable. Or human rights law- now that sounds cool; but thats the problem. It all SOUNDS good. Getting a masters sounds good. But how much do I actually want to do that. Why do I want to do that.
I've found myself neglecting all those things that I once found important... my writing, my music, my sketches, and reading. My consistent need for physical activity. I cannot concentrate on the work I get from school- there is no passion or drive for it. I get no satisfaction. And I find myself wondering where it all went.
I remember back in the day, back in the day being high school, that brief period where everything I did was infused with this singular purpose. I had a goal, I knew what I wanted and I worked to get there. But I didn't get there, and now I'm not even sure if I would have wanted that or not. When I was interested in something, I researched it and read about it. I was inspired to draw, would spend hours doing that. When I was restless I went out and climbed a tree or could take it out on the playing field. When I was plagued with insomnia I would read or write, filling notebooks, feeling each time like I was expanding, growing to something. Now I just lie there. And I mean that for everything. My mind wanders.
I suppose that brief period of purpose in life coincided with my believing full-heartedly that I would go into the military. Sea Cadets- as though the uniform gave me a purpose. Its difficult now to imagine myself being that way- but I was. And I liked it. As much flak as the military gets, and as much flak as I give it myself, the year or so that I spent going to drills was a time I felt like every part of me was being fullfilled. Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, I felt in tune. I'm not sure when that came crashing down- maybe after boot camp, maybe after I started going up in rank and started seeing my personality become different with authority. Maybe it was getting a boyfriend.
I don't remotely want to join the military now.
But I want to know what happened to my self-discipline. What happened to my sense of purpose.
I stop and ask myself what I'm doing, where I'm headed, and I do not know.
I do know that I'm not going to KNOW anytime soon. I do know that I'm probably going to be going to school for a very long time.
Part of me is too impatient. I want to be out now. I want a career where i can see my own handiwork, where I can see what I've done with my hands. I remember how satisfying it was to work in the carpentry shop in Guatemala, to see something come together and take form beneath my hands.
When I'm by the sea I wonder how it could be possible for me to not be doing something that requires me to be there. That passion has always been there.
I'm going to run away to the circus; I need a career.
I discussed taking circus classes with my friend Sean, then dismissed it as folly. His response was one of my favourites. "Embrace your eccentricities Brittany. No one else is going to do it for you. Just do it."
Then I found out about the National Circus School in Montreal where you can earn a bachelor degree in circus studies. I wonder if my parents would support me in that. Don't think I'd get past auditions- this is for agile people who have backgrounds in dance gymnastics, and dont have a bum knee that acts up like an old man's on rainy days. Still I think what if.. What if? I mean, I'm only yound and foolish once- my body in a few years won't be able to even begin this stuff. May as well try when I can.
- I dont think anyone is going to take that one seriously.
The more I think about it, the less certain I am about what route to take. Where to go.
I started seriously thinking about becoming a professor. That would require a masters. I'd need an honours. Ummmmm...... I don't even know what school I'm going to be at, let alone if my grades are good enough- let alone the major I'd be doing, considering I dropped the intro class for mine.
I'd like things to be simple. I'd like to learn a trade and study part time until I actually know what I want to do academically. I want to find my inspiration again.
Its time for some soul-searching and decision-making. I guess what I'm missing is some sort of goal. I need something to work towards... it could be im overwhelmed at all the possibilities. Or frustrated at the lack of resources. I just need to settle on something.