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 How outdated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.
Sometimes the next step is a leap of faith.
And I’m going with it regardless of what you think.
