Unready

In a short while I will be graduating from college. And I am not ready.

Unlike a lot of seniors, I am not yet tired of where I am at the moment. But then again, my situation is peculiar. Having switched my major rather late in my college career,it is only this year that I am taking a lot of classes I enjoy and doing something I am passionate about. I have had a chance to make valuable contacts with professors, staff and students. I enjoy having stimulating discussions with my professors and it fills me with dread to think that very soon, that cord of communion will be snapt.

I have been so fortunate to be here, in this place with its wealth of resources and nurturing environment, that makes it possible to bring to world to me if I should wish it. If I have a question, be it anything, I could pursue the answers here. I regret the many years in which I was blind to all that was before me. Oh just how much could I have done if only I had had an awakening earlier. Besides doing a Bronte thesis, I could have double majored in what inspires me every day: Art. I could have started a Bronte Society in my college, presented at a conference, procured funding to go to conference elsewhere, or had rewarding summer internships that involved doing things I really liked to do, like teaching. I am convinced I could have brought Juliet Barker to speak here, with some persuasion and support. I could have written for the college publications, or started one of my own. I could have taken actual creative writing classes and submitted some of my stories for competitions. I could have formed more meaningful relationships with people instead of telling myself to be satisfied with indifference. I could have done so much with what I was given. Just this one year of doing something I like, makes up for the past three years in which all I remember now is being in some sort of trance, working like a machine without being free, trying to achieve something without asking the vital question: What do I really like?

I was truly blessed to be here and even during those times when I get a grade I didn't expect or the internship I didn't get, I think about the great discussions I've had in classes or with professors afterwards and I know that the journey has been worth it. Besides classes, this is the only year in which I actually opened myself to freedom: not just emotionlly but physically as well, for I've taken up a couple of sports I enjoy doing.

Very soon this will be no more. I will literally be forced to move out of my niche and fend for myself. Myself alone. Moving home is out of the question, at least not for the present. And then, I don't know what I will do or where I will go. I don't know what type of people I will be surrounded with, whether they'd have the kindred spirits in them or whether they'd mock my eccentricities. If I could have my way, I wish I could get paid to research the Brontes or work on Children's Literature. Even if it is possible to do this at some time in far future, thinking of my present choices is not very comforting.

I suppose I should not complain. But job anxiety is kicking in, especially when I see a lot of seniors with jobs. I suppose everything happens for the best...but we only know that in hindsight...we have to go through the journey first.

And I don't know if I am ready to do so soon.