One of my biggest fears, without question, is living a dull life. I guess I’m getting to the point where I see how easy it is to fall into the set pattern that’s expected of us, and what traps most of us: go to university, meet our future spouses, get whatever job will take us after college, get engaged, find a city, find a house, settle in for the next 20+ years. I’m not saying that there isn’t a part of me that wants that; I want the beautiful home, the husband, the children, the closeness to my family, and all of that is a dream in and of itself, but I’m starting to see how easy it is to slip into that without realizing everything else that’s gone undone. I know I have had an extraordinary life so far, and I have worked so incredibly hard to do the things I’ve done, but I think I’m starting to realize just how easy it is to fall into a “normal” routine, and I’m terrified that I’m going to wake up one morning to realize that those dreams and goals and precious time I’ve been banking on to be the most I can be are suddenly gone.
I need to start considering what trajectory I want to take my life. I know these things are clear: I need to be traveling, I need to be shooting, I need to be telling stories and hearing stories, I need to be making the world a better place. In particular, I love East Africa, I love animals, I love mountains and glaciers. I’m passionate about the natural earth. I’m passionate about animal rights. I’m passionate about bringing suffering to light through photographs, and alleviating it in any way I possibly can. But with all of these things jumbled together as my passions, I’m posed with this: what do I do with them? How do I create? Do I stick through to the end of my degree? Do I crumple it up and hop on a plane to Pakistan? I know I want a grant to do something, but, hell, how do I know what I want a grant for? I’m worried that at the end of my time in San Francisco, I’ll be offered a comfortable, quiet job somewhere and will gravitate towards that (for it’s easier and less complicated than packing up and moving to Kenya), and before I know it, my twenties will be gone, my thirties will be spent raising a kid, and I’ll feel as though I failed my 15-year-old self.
On days like today – a rainy Sunday where it’s 3 PM and I haven’t done much besides laundry and writing a paper and taking a meandering walk around the neighborhood – I feel like there’s something else I should be doing. I’m generally alone in San Francisco, but with that, I’m given a lot of time. I feel like I’m at a critical point now, where every hour I have can either be used to propel myself towards my goals, or be stagnant as I watch Friends and let another day go, unchallenged, unsuccessful. I put a lot of pressure on myself to be doing the most and the best, but I used to write off that pressure by thinking to myself, I’m too young, I’ll do that later. But now that excuse is futile. People my age are either faltering from this career, or they’re becoming National Geographic Explorers. I don’t know. It begins here. Maybe I’ll seriously start applying for grants (though I have no idea what the fuck I’d apply to do, but researching them would be a good place to start).
Look. I’m not special. I’m not here for any sublime reason; I don’t believe I have a purpose or that I’m any more important than anyone else. But I can tell you that I believe that we have failed as individuals if we do not attempt to leave the world a better place than it was before. I believe we can do extraordinary things if we abandon the empty tracks we’ve been told to follow, and instead we pour our hearts and souls into something, no matter how small, to make the world a bit brighter, clearer, light; even if it’s just something that fills our hearts and makes the most of our precious lives.
I don’t want to be the best at anything.
I just want to leave the world knowing that I made someone breathe a little bit easier.
theartofmadeline
gummygunk
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