"Whatever I'm meant to be doing, it's not this". I wrote that on Facebook a few minutes ago, and until I did, I had no idea how true it was. My mother says (citing the rabbis) you know a person through how they drink, how they deal with money, and how they act when they are angry. I think, in a certain sense, I know myself through my writing. (Does this mean I'm having a "Borges y yo" moment? I feel so cool!)
This week, I sent a few emails that were "not me". By not me, I don't mean they were un-me, but rather, that they were not the optimal me - and when I am not me in my writing, that's always a sign that there's something larger going on. Instead of studying, I've been re-reading a lot of my blog posts. This is partially because I'm an ego-maniac, but its also because I've been trying to look at my process of growth, places I've gone wrong, where I wanted to end up and where I am - a place which is, of course, a new beginning is so many ways, and every beginning is a gift from God, so I must be grateful.
In many places, I'm not where I wanted to be. In some ways that is good, in some it is not. But these past few months, for the first time in my life, I've really felt like I'm on the wrong path. Don't get me wrong: There have been times before when I've felt I'm not on the optimal path, or that I could be on a better one, but never (thank God) that I am on the WRONG path.
Until now, I've chalked this feeling up to the sheer amount of investment in schoolwork necessitated by my new surroundings - of course when you have nothing in your life but work, and you don't like the classes you're doing work for, it feels wrong! Just keep your eye on the goal, and carry on.
But what if I don't like the work because I'm on the wrong path? What if the fact that the goal does not fill me with excitement, an excitement that makes the work worthwhile, is proof that I'm on the wrong path?
I've worked hard at school before. I've never hated it this much. Maybe I was just lucky (i.e. blessed by God). But at the same time, there are so many things I could see myself doing with my life, most of which require a less difficult path - so why pursue the difficult one, if I'm not more passionate about it? Because it earns more money? Finances are an important consideration, but the thing I value most of all is my health - both physical and mental - and while both these things are in God's hands, I am not willing to sacrifice either one for my schoolwork, at this juncture in my life - at least, not for something I'm not truly passionate about.
For me, my education has always been about enriching myself as a person, about helping me become the person I want to be. I feel like recently my schoolwork has been about the opposite. I'm not looking for a dream career: I'm looking for something that pays the bills, while not having me bored out of my mind. Ideally, I'd even like intellectual stimulation and a feeling I'm somehow doing something to improve the world - but I also accept that intellectual stimulation and improving the world can come from things outside of one's career as well. I'm too young to settle for a career I don't like, so I'm aiming for the good career, as opposed to the "what I can live with" career - but I distinguish between the good career and the ideal career, because the ideal career simply might not exist in this universe.
One thing I know for sure: I'm not willing to be the person I've been for the past two weeks. Yes, hormones and various waxings and wanings of the moon might play a part in that person's character (this really makes me sound like a werewolf, doesn't it?), but at the end of the day, that's not who I am, and that's not who I'm going to let myself become - even if the price to pay is not doing well in exams. Because I'm not willing to become someone I don't like between now and February 20.
And even if I do well in exams, I am going to take time to reassess if this is the path I want to continue upon, because sometimes the truth does come out in writing, even if its via something as silly as Facebook statuses.
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