to know and be known
Being alive gives one tremendous responsibility to live usefully, but I go through periods of self-indulgence, when all I want to do is read and write and draw and paint and be a creative person and absorb the creativity of others. Is adding beauty and understanding to the world, or attempting to do so, a legitimate vocation? Or should one's mission in life require a greater sacrifice from one's self, and result in a more tangible benefit for the rest of the world? I've always thought that the greater the sacrifice, the greater the impact on the rest of the world, but I've been questioning that for the past three years.
On a personal level, the answer to those questions will determine what I do with my life. There are so many paths to choose from; I'm lucky to be in a position where my life could go in any direction I want it to, but what good is that freedom when self-knowledge still escapes me? "Know thyself," Plato said, but I don't, and I don't know how I will come to. Who am I? How do people know what they want? Some seem born with it; others find direction in a life-altering event, or perhaps through religion. In most of the ancient Greek texts I'm reading for my World Literature class, the main characters have missions and grand destinies that not only rule their lives, but the lives of so many around them. Often, this knowledge seems god-given. Sure, they have moments of self-doubt, but they are so consumed by their quests that they plunge forward anyway.
I don't want to spend my life figuring out what I want to accomplish with my life; I want answers that will lead to a plan of action, but I can't exactly put my life on pause and go on a soul-searching expedition tomorrow. Maybe I want too much. Or perhaps I should hope for divine intervention, or maybe even reincarnation. But I only have one attempt at living. As the second decade of my life draws to a close, I'm realizing that the rest of it will fly away all too quickly, and I still feel like a child in adult's clothing. When will I grow up?
I've assumed different identities in 19 years. I've been religiously apathetic, devoutly Christian, atheist, and now consider myself an agnostic who believes in spirituality, although lately I've been intrigued by Islam. I used to be very interested in my appearance: I wore makeup everyday, took pains about my hair, worried if I was the right size and shape, but now I wear makeup rarely, and worry about the rest even less. Being able to compete with the boys in math and science used to be important to me; I took advanced math and science classes throughout high school, but never really enjoyed them. Even now, I'm a pre-med student, but the idea of having all math/science classes next semester (with the exception of World Lit) is extremely unappealing. I thought good grades were central to my identity, even though I never worked particularly hard for them, but I failed the second semester of calculus senior year because of apathy (I still managed a 5 on the AP test, thanks to Mrs. Mallery). Despite the fact that I intend to be a doctor, my recent blood-giving debacle (perhaps that's not the right word) really, really freaked me out. I want to add to global peace, health, and understanding, but I wonder if I would be just as happy living a smaller life, with my watercolors and a blank canvas in a remote studio, detached from the rest of humanity. I thought I would be attending college at a small, private northeastern institution, but here I am at huge state school in the south. I thought I was a feminist, a proponent for equality between men and women, but I'm partial to the idea of being a stay-at-home mom. I've wanted to be a medical doctor, a primatologist, a writer, a journalist, an artist, a fashion designer, a photographer, some type of social scientist, a diplomat, a professor...
In essence, I don't know who I am; is this just a part of the process of maturity, or am I extraordinarily lost? I'm not any one of the people I described, but neither am I not all of them. I suppose the only thing I can do is live in the present, but it certainly damages my credibility to be such a capricious person. I wish I could retreat into a cave and/or a very deep sleep, and return when I have a better grasp of myself.
On a personal level, the answer to those questions will determine what I do with my life. There are so many paths to choose from; I'm lucky to be in a position where my life could go in any direction I want it to, but what good is that freedom when self-knowledge still escapes me? "Know thyself," Plato said, but I don't, and I don't know how I will come to. Who am I? How do people know what they want? Some seem born with it; others find direction in a life-altering event, or perhaps through religion. In most of the ancient Greek texts I'm reading for my World Literature class, the main characters have missions and grand destinies that not only rule their lives, but the lives of so many around them. Often, this knowledge seems god-given. Sure, they have moments of self-doubt, but they are so consumed by their quests that they plunge forward anyway.
I don't want to spend my life figuring out what I want to accomplish with my life; I want answers that will lead to a plan of action, but I can't exactly put my life on pause and go on a soul-searching expedition tomorrow. Maybe I want too much. Or perhaps I should hope for divine intervention, or maybe even reincarnation. But I only have one attempt at living. As the second decade of my life draws to a close, I'm realizing that the rest of it will fly away all too quickly, and I still feel like a child in adult's clothing. When will I grow up?
I've assumed different identities in 19 years. I've been religiously apathetic, devoutly Christian, atheist, and now consider myself an agnostic who believes in spirituality, although lately I've been intrigued by Islam. I used to be very interested in my appearance: I wore makeup everyday, took pains about my hair, worried if I was the right size and shape, but now I wear makeup rarely, and worry about the rest even less. Being able to compete with the boys in math and science used to be important to me; I took advanced math and science classes throughout high school, but never really enjoyed them. Even now, I'm a pre-med student, but the idea of having all math/science classes next semester (with the exception of World Lit) is extremely unappealing. I thought good grades were central to my identity, even though I never worked particularly hard for them, but I failed the second semester of calculus senior year because of apathy (I still managed a 5 on the AP test, thanks to Mrs. Mallery). Despite the fact that I intend to be a doctor, my recent blood-giving debacle (perhaps that's not the right word) really, really freaked me out. I want to add to global peace, health, and understanding, but I wonder if I would be just as happy living a smaller life, with my watercolors and a blank canvas in a remote studio, detached from the rest of humanity. I thought I would be attending college at a small, private northeastern institution, but here I am at huge state school in the south. I thought I was a feminist, a proponent for equality between men and women, but I'm partial to the idea of being a stay-at-home mom. I've wanted to be a medical doctor, a primatologist, a writer, a journalist, an artist, a fashion designer, a photographer, some type of social scientist, a diplomat, a professor...
In essence, I don't know who I am; is this just a part of the process of maturity, or am I extraordinarily lost? I'm not any one of the people I described, but neither am I not all of them. I suppose the only thing I can do is live in the present, but it certainly damages my credibility to be such a capricious person. I wish I could retreat into a cave and/or a very deep sleep, and return when I have a better grasp of myself.