going

Once upon a time I gave up Facebook

I have this preconceived notion that people care about my life. And that’s not to say that my friends and family don’t care, but I care too much about what the random person walking down the street thinks. And believe it or not, random person actually doesn’t care much about me. Even old Facebook friends, have their own life stories to be all wrapped up in, I’m sure they don’t take much notice to mine. And so be it! That’s supposed to be ok! I need to stop feeling like everything I do is being judged against this whole valedictorian/most likely to succeed/ quiet, smart girl persona. How outdated to constantly be battling against the potential of your 18 year old self. I just assume people are waiting for me to screw up or become Hilary Clinton. Seriously, in my little brain, that’s what I think.

So I decided to chuck it all out. No Facebook for forty days. One of the reasons I did that was because I was beginning to think that my actions were being shaped more to please that other person. This person who I went to high school with, who I felt the need to impress, to brag, to be better than everyone else because they knew me at a moment in life when everything seems possible and the fact that you don’t know how it’s all going to end is part of the fun and excitement. I needed a step back. I needed to know that it didn’t matter what those people thought. I needed to find out what I wanted.

During those days and weeks, I wanted to really find out what I wanted and where perhaps it all may end up.

And I get it. That’s a lot of pressure to put on a time period, blah, blah, blah. But I also went into it all knowing that my contract for my current position was coming up and I needed to make some choices.

You see, I’ve written a lot about wanting to be an artist, about having to at some moment in time chose between art and politics, about evading that choice as if it mattered.

I had coffee one day with someone who is much smarter than I am and she said, “You never have to choose. You can define yourself however you want to…” she continued by adding, “…I will always be an artist...” and it was that comment that struck me.

I will always be an artist.

No one is going to walk up to me and take away my desire to design, my knowledge of art history, my creativity, my aesthetic. It will always be a part of me. I will always be a creative.

Always. As I exist and evolve so will my art.

Ok, well then…

Funny thing about running away from what you believe people’s impressions of you are—sometimes you find out that they were right all along.

I realized that everyone was expecting so much of me because it was actually what I wanted. I really do want to go off and struggle and live abroad and study hard and long and have student loans and save the world. I want to be in the thick of it all battling out conversations about international aid and the state of corruption in African educational policies. I really do. Sounds great. Sounds liberating.

After much persuasion from a friend of mine I applied to graduate school. After a lot of thought and this internal conversation of my own, I’ve decided to go.

First I had to tell people I applied. Even my Mom didn’t know (which in case you are unaware, is a rarity in my life). And then, I sat on it for a few days pondering the course my life could take if I went, what could happen and who I could become. The irony in all of this is that I had sworn off graduate school, sworn off abiding my people’s expectations and judgments only to find amongst all the noise of the outside world my own inner voice. This inner voice is strong-willed and opinionated and giving and knows what to go after. There is no more floundering.

In August I will pack up again and move. I will take a plane and land a first year post-graduate at the University of Edinburgh pursuing a Master’s of Science in Africa and International Development.

Sometimes the next step is a leap of faith.

And I’m going with it regardless of what you think.

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