"All that you desired when you were a child was to be old, was to be old / Now that you are here / Suddenly you fear / You've lost control, you've lost control" - Bastille, Weight of Living, Part II
As I sit in my room in North Bend that I just moved back into (that I should probably also be cleaning), I've been thinking about how far my life has come the past year. My first year at Seattle University has passed, and I am now a senior in college.
I did two years of Running Start at Bellevue College, and went one extra year to finish up my AA, so I'm a year ahead of schedule. And that means, one year closer to adulthood.
When I go on to my senior year of college, I feel like I need to have what I want to do figured out. But to be honest, I really don't. I do to some extent. But at the same time, my life feels like one big existential crisis.
The most I know is that I don't like working in an office. I have learned that this year after having a job that mostly required me to sit in front of a computer, typing. It's what I'm doing now, to be fair, but I make exceptions for my writing (which also begins and gets edited on paper before it goes to keyboard).
I've learned that what drives me is the effect reading and writing can have on us. Writing helped me immensely when I was recovering from PTSD after a pistol-whipping and robbing I was a victim of back in November. Reading (The Catcher in the Rye, in particularly) has helped me get over a lot of tough situations as I was growing up.
I attended many events that the English department offered: career panels, panels about graduate school. I talked to my creative writing professor. I talked to old high school teachers. The career I keep coming back to is a high school language arts teacher.
But thinking about that makes me think about how I graduated high school only two years ago and I'm already almost qualified to teach high schoolers.
I'm not ready. Growing up is scary. What do I do once I'm adult? What's my purpose?
I'll leave my first blog post on a positive note, with what one of my high school teachers assured me: "You'll do fine."
Somehow, I know this.
As I sit in my room in North Bend that I just moved back into (that I should probably also be cleaning), I've been thinking about how far my life has come the past year. My first year at Seattle University has passed, and I am now a senior in college.
I did two years of Running Start at Bellevue College, and went one extra year to finish up my AA, so I'm a year ahead of schedule. And that means, one year closer to adulthood.
When I go on to my senior year of college, I feel like I need to have what I want to do figured out. But to be honest, I really don't. I do to some extent. But at the same time, my life feels like one big existential crisis.
The most I know is that I don't like working in an office. I have learned that this year after having a job that mostly required me to sit in front of a computer, typing. It's what I'm doing now, to be fair, but I make exceptions for my writing (which also begins and gets edited on paper before it goes to keyboard).
I've learned that what drives me is the effect reading and writing can have on us. Writing helped me immensely when I was recovering from PTSD after a pistol-whipping and robbing I was a victim of back in November. Reading (The Catcher in the Rye, in particularly) has helped me get over a lot of tough situations as I was growing up.
I attended many events that the English department offered: career panels, panels about graduate school. I talked to my creative writing professor. I talked to old high school teachers. The career I keep coming back to is a high school language arts teacher.
But thinking about that makes me think about how I graduated high school only two years ago and I'm already almost qualified to teach high schoolers.
I'm not ready. Growing up is scary. What do I do once I'm adult? What's my purpose?
I'll leave my first blog post on a positive note, with what one of my high school teachers assured me: "You'll do fine."
Somehow, I know this.