| This will probably interest no one and that's fine by me. It may incite commentary, and that's fine by me as well. It is intended only as a method of self-guidance through a tough growing phase in my life, and maybe just a bit of a pity party...you've been warned.
So, at 21 years of age, with one more year of college left before I finish my hard-earned BM in Vocal Performance, I find myself at an impasse. Perhaps (and I most sincerely hope this is true), it is just a sign of my age, this aimless feeling I have, but honestly, I can't say I've never felt like this before. It's a conflict of the many sides of my personality, mixed with the troubled economic times, the unlikelihood of success in my 'chosen' career, and the normal self-doubt that every near graduate must face. I feel I've been putting off this soul-searching for a very long time, and it's finally chosen to show its teeth.
I knew I wanted to go to college when I was around eight. I imagined myself in England somewhere, and even then, I didn't really think passionately about any sort of career. I never desperately wanted to be a ballerina, or any of the other phases that children go through. I went through my own version of those phases, a milder, less influential version, which has most certainly contributed to my problems today. Which are, mainly, that I'm an adult, and I can't think of one bloody thing I'd like to do for a living.
Even if I could sit down and imagine my dream career, free of any constraints, nothing comes to mind. Directionless is not a word most people would use to describe me, yet here I am. The girl who knew where she wanted to go to college while she was in first grade can't even pick a career direction.
I know it's pretty common to go through something like this at least once in your life. My parents are always joking that they still don't know what they want to do when they grow up, and I guess I always felt a little sorry for them. I assumed, in that way children only think about their parents, that they were hopelessly different from me. I would obviously find my calling early, be wildly good at it, and make lots of money very quickly so that I could retire on a beach in Fiji. Or Hawaii. It didn't much matter as long as there was a beach involved. Unfortunately, with age comes a certain amount of accrued wisdom, and a slap in the face by my dear friend, Reality. My parents, I'm realizing only now, must have been here at some point. They must have spent a similar sleepless night wondering how to balance childhood dreams with reality and practicality and a new family and the economy and others' expectations and and and...
It doesn't help to know that other people are going through this. I still feel like I'm on my own. Maybe there's a bit of kinship, and most definitely a feeling of sympathy for those who have it worse than me (and I'm aware that there are many).
As it stands, I could continue exactly as I am for the rest of my life, and be very satisfied--no, be very happy. The life I'm living is a sort of perfect constant ebb and flow. I'm rarely bored, restless, or afraid, and I've got to admit that I feel a bit guilty for it. I mean, you hear all those stories about perpetual students--that guy who lives in his parents' basement and pays rent out of his FAFSA check, which he earns by taking three easy classes a quarter, while taking the summer off. I bet there are only a few people in the world who wouldn't at least think about living a life that stress free. Or maybe that's just me. The basement part sounds pretty awful, but here in my apartment, where I've lived for a year already, I feel at home. And I like knowing that my 'job' as student is located a ten minute walk away. I like that school is easy for me, and always has been just challenging enough to hold my interest without being so tough that I worry I'm going to fail. I've never failed a class before. I've made mistakes, sure, but I've never had to worry that I might not make it through. I've never really, REALLY screwed up. I know. Lucky me, right?
As I was saying, this life of classes, homework, and my two bedroom apartment is sort of my idea of a perfect career...problem numero one. I don't think this counts as a career. I'm quite sure my parents would back me up on that one. My dad would give me that look he has where he reminds me that he worked as many as three jobs at one time, has been working since he was very little, and how I should be okay with doing the same; how I should be grateful that the first 21 years of my life were so care-free. I can't help thinking that if my life had been just a bit harder, I might be more prepared to accept that weight on my shoulders. But a life of privilege only leaves you wanting more. After living footloose and fancy free for so long, anything else feels like an eternity of retribution. Is he right? Should I be satisfied with a mediocre future, content to remember my youth, when life had been whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it?
Don't get me wrong. I know a bit about sacrifice. I haven't always let things come to me the easy way. Academically, at least, I can be quite a champ. I took the road less traveled and all that rot many many times when it would have been easier, simpler to go a different route. I took honors history when it was offered, simply because I could, and it was a challenge. Same with AP. While other students were content to take college prep. English, I threw myself in the lion's den of straight A students (happily aware of my solid B average), and struggled for a year to make it through a class that has still surpassed all other classes I've taken, nearly six years of college later. I think that says a lot about who I am, at least on one front.
As for life's other sacrifices--so far they've been few. I've never truly wanted for anything important. I've always had clothing, food, shelter, the basics, and never had to wonder if I'd continue to have them. My parents have been examples to the rest of the world of how to raise a happy child without spoiling them. Mostly. I wouldn't say I'm spoiled, precisely. There is a big difference between someone who's always been satisfied, and someone who's always gotten what they wanted. I always, always had what I needed, but my parents were familiar with the word no, and I became familiar with it pretty quickly, too. I was doted on, but never indulged, and my parents certainly tried to instill the value of hard work in me. I don't know if it took quite right.
It doesn't seem natural for someone not to want to do anything with themselves. Normal people have ambitions, passions, dreams. I have a world full of half-developed interests, all of which I could be equally mediocre at, none of which I could ever hope to excel in. I think it should be one of those Chinese proverbs, something about only wishing well-roundedness on your enemies. People talk about it like it's this great thing, but try living a life of it. I think it creates someone a bit like me.
So here I am, ready to start my final year of college in just a few weeks, and until tonight, I'd been looking ahead to auditioning for grad. school, summer programs, and apprenticeships. Now I'm not even sure I want to sing any more. I feel burnt out, like what passion I did possess has been thoroughly spent--I've reached my quota, and I've realized that I've been making decisions for the wrong reasons.
I was planning on grad. school primarily because it would allow me two more years to sort through this mess I've made of my life. It would postpone the inevitable decision about what I'm going to do to make a living. What the rest of my life will entail. But, being coldly practical (which my friends would all agree I am), I cannot allow myself to do something so fiscally idiotic. Two more years of useless soul searching is not worth a lifetime of student loan debt, at least not to me. Perhaps I would enjoy it as well--if it wasn't for that small part of me that will always love music, I would have talked myself out of this career years ago, but that tiny spark is just enough to convince me to keep going. Surely if I feel anything for this career, I should pursue it, right? Haven't I just been complaining that I need direction? Well, yes, but I just don't think it's enough for me.
I want the whole package. I want to wake up and not dread going to work. I want to not be afraid of where my next meal is coming from, or how I'm going to pay the rent this month. I want to not be a burden on my family, who have always been more supportive than I could have hoped for. I want these things more than I want music in my life, therefore, music must not be my answer.
The only problem is, if it isn't music (and 21 years spent envisioning a career in singing is a lot to put aside), what is it? Can I really give up a lifetime spent in preparation for this career, and face the more immediate terror of not having a plan? Or, am I just talking myself out of something I want because I know it will be difficult?
I'm not going to answer these questions in a night, or, as I fear more and more of late, in a lifetime. There are so many more complexities to this story that I may never be able to put words to, but if I could, I feel like I might find my answer there. |
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angstcrow's journal
