running blind
As a rule, there is no reason to think that life works itself out. Every shift that I make closer to that moment where what I am and what I have, what I need to survive and what I strive for are all lined up in this perfectly balanced wheel that is going somewhere, that has somewhere to go. At the end of the day, I know, that I am really, truly lucky to say that I am or have ever been anywhere close to that moment to be able to see it glowing at my fingertips in all its splendor and all its promise. But some subverting part of me stops my hand every time that we almost reach that moment, wonders over all of the paths that we turned aside to reach it, and find ourselves looking down some other path, utterly new or fraught with memory, dreaming and wishing that it were ours.
I don't wish to be a child again; I couldn't be, even if there existed some magic to make it possible, but that's no longer the only reason. But I do still envy the way that children can flit from one thing to another and if they have the ability, excel at all of them, be it ice skating or piano or writing or drawing or whatever it is they or their parent's have gotten into their heads would be good for them. What does it gain us adults now that the orgy of extra-curricular activities is over? I feel truly blessed that I got the opportunity to do all of these things, and without consequences -- we could all strive to be the best, without ever having to worry if we ever actually got there. But now have I gained the drive to be able to do so many things at once? Not really, if anything, I am more afraid to do new things, terrified of the pangs of regret that I will/do feel when I have to set it aside or relegate it to 'just' a hobby.
All this is a convoluted, long-winded way of saying that I adore my internship. There is much meaningful work to be done that (for the most part) exists at the intersection of something that I am pretty good at and something that I enjoy. There are things that I still must learn and that I'm not actually responsible for as an intern, and there are things that I enjoy less, but of course, that is normal and hardly detracts from the quintessential characteristics of the ideal job. On top of that, everyone at my job is super-nice, and we're doing something really wonderful for health care in a time when such work is so desperately needed and at a moment when it is receiving prominent attention, and hence, the mobility for change.
All well and good, but I already have an ideal job, one that I'm good at, have trained for, enjoy greatly, know all the ins and outs and ups and downs for and have planned my life around. This is the job for which I actually have a growing network of connections to pull on, and though I know that I am no prodigy, I do pretty well for myself, and I know that I have a shot at getting somewhere. But in order to get that somewhere, I realize, because this is the real world, because we are not children anymore, everything else will have to be relegated to secondary importance or my ever-shrinking 'free time'.
I've always felt that if I don't feel a little bit miserable, my current boss has said, then I'm doing something wrong. But I don't want to feel miserable, not yet. One day, I will have to worry about supporting myself and my career trajectory and my life and my happiness all at once, but just this summer, I should just kick back and enjoy a moment in which none of that quite yet matters, and pretend there are no consequences. The consequences are there though: out of sight, but not quite out of mind.
Somewhere, somehow, there is a way through this. I believe it, actually, no matter how much I may worry or complain. I just can't see it yet.
I don't wish to be a child again; I couldn't be, even if there existed some magic to make it possible, but that's no longer the only reason. But I do still envy the way that children can flit from one thing to another and if they have the ability, excel at all of them, be it ice skating or piano or writing or drawing or whatever it is they or their parent's have gotten into their heads would be good for them. What does it gain us adults now that the orgy of extra-curricular activities is over? I feel truly blessed that I got the opportunity to do all of these things, and without consequences -- we could all strive to be the best, without ever having to worry if we ever actually got there. But now have I gained the drive to be able to do so many things at once? Not really, if anything, I am more afraid to do new things, terrified of the pangs of regret that I will/do feel when I have to set it aside or relegate it to 'just' a hobby.
All this is a convoluted, long-winded way of saying that I adore my internship. There is much meaningful work to be done that (for the most part) exists at the intersection of something that I am pretty good at and something that I enjoy. There are things that I still must learn and that I'm not actually responsible for as an intern, and there are things that I enjoy less, but of course, that is normal and hardly detracts from the quintessential characteristics of the ideal job. On top of that, everyone at my job is super-nice, and we're doing something really wonderful for health care in a time when such work is so desperately needed and at a moment when it is receiving prominent attention, and hence, the mobility for change.
All well and good, but I already have an ideal job, one that I'm good at, have trained for, enjoy greatly, know all the ins and outs and ups and downs for and have planned my life around. This is the job for which I actually have a growing network of connections to pull on, and though I know that I am no prodigy, I do pretty well for myself, and I know that I have a shot at getting somewhere. But in order to get that somewhere, I realize, because this is the real world, because we are not children anymore, everything else will have to be relegated to secondary importance or my ever-shrinking 'free time'.
I've always felt that if I don't feel a little bit miserable, my current boss has said, then I'm doing something wrong. But I don't want to feel miserable, not yet. One day, I will have to worry about supporting myself and my career trajectory and my life and my happiness all at once, but just this summer, I should just kick back and enjoy a moment in which none of that quite yet matters, and pretend there are no consequences. The consequences are there though: out of sight, but not quite out of mind.
Somewhere, somehow, there is a way through this. I believe it, actually, no matter how much I may worry or complain. I just can't see it yet.