Or eighteen. Maybe even in my early twenties, doesn’t really matter, it’s a fact. But when I say was interesting, I don’t mean that I turned completely dull and lifeless. Even though I like to lead the life of a grandma with her frequents cups of tea during the day and an obsessive desire to feed people, I’m still a 27 year old girl who’s young and has a life of opportunities ahead of her. It’s just that I don’t have the same fury anymore.
You’re seventeen and you argue with everyone around you about anything and everything and you want to do some thing with your life. But those things you wish to do are mostly what adults around you refer to as « passions »; meaning stuff you’re supposed to do in your free time. Your full time occupation should be school, earning a degree that will help you pay for utilities, mortgage or rent, and other stuff depending on what little time your job gives you as vacation and what little money you manage to save up.
There are smart parents out there who have the guts to support their children’s right to choose for themselves, whether they want a degree in the arts, or want to practice a sport full time, whatever it is, these parents feel like a passion is not just something you practice when you have time, it can be what you do for a living. Not every person that says they want to work in the cinema wants to be an actor, there’s a thousands other jobs in the industry, but sometimes parents feel like their kids are going out of control and want absurd things that won’t help them out in their future. It all comes down to fear; the fear of not having enough money, not fitting into society, not having a « serious » job, fear of failure, of ridicule.
And I feel like I wanted to do so much stuff and I have been tamed, my fury has been controlled and I fit in. I had blogs where I tried to be funny about my little teenage life and I had some success, engaged in various forums to learn how to use Photoshop, bought my first grown up camera when I was 20, was editor in chief of the student newspaper, did theater, created a club in college, did my first internship at a music festival; I was just so passionate. And I don’t know what happened, or rather I do know what happened but don’t understand how it has affected me that much. It’s not a person or a situation, it’s not my parents, it’s a mix of all that; I just stopped caring altogether.
I convinced myself that all of these things that I cared about were just passions, they weren’t serious, that what was important in life was a job, was a degree, and I regret it profoundly. I’m in my fourth year studying for my PhD and I’m wondering if it’s even worth it. I have no drive anymore, I followed a path that wasn’t mine, to fulfill desires that weren’t true to me. And I guess the point of all this is to say this : if you’re not doing what you want, at some point in time whether it’s now or in twenty years, you’re gonna feel sour and bitter. And I think it’s better for my ass that I feel bitter now because I still can do something about it. See if I reinvent myself as an interior designer or something. Or a photographer, I can still do that. I don’t know, point is; I wanna make a change. And I’m not gonna feel sorry for myself. I’m not gonna let a 17 year old know it all be better than me. That little girl is making me insanely mad because she fought for what she wanted. I wanna be just like her.