Wednesday, October 15, 2014

The Road Not Forsaken

There are many ways in which my life feels like a bridge collapsing behind me...only in the best way possible, of course.  It's just that, as soon as a new goal materializes in the horizon, my present circumstances seem to become hogwash, intended solely for completing some requisite task at hand.  The problem is that I'm pushing for something to happen when that something simply needs to enfold on its own.

This first month of senior year has been rough for me, not in any traditional sense, but in the sense that I don't feel like I belong here anymore.  After a long summer of preparing for law school, I've realized just how much I've grown out of that na├»ve 18-year-old that stepped into her first (and only) college dorm.  I've heard freshman upon freshman rehash the latest frat party, inquire about Dance Marathon, and over-enthusiastically recite Chaucerian Middle English, all of which have led me to somehow appreciate the remainder of college less and less.

This isn't to say I no longer value the experiences I've had.  Though it's true that I wish I had more "Kodak moment" memories, I've still had at least my fair share, along with a bounty of lessons to teach the grandkids some day.  Nonetheless, I can't help but feel as though spending hours finishing up this undergraduate linguistics degree isn't going to mean much beyond, well, semantics.

So what's the solution?  For this, we must look to that presumably ancient proverb that encourages us to be as present as we can in everything that we do.  Sure, you might be waiting for that all-important LSAT score to come in so you can submit your law school applications and solidify your future, or you might be in the process of applying for jobs in order to advance into the real world.  But college is right here, and it's something we're lucky to finish, to engage in, and to reflect upon.

I think back to elementary school and the much clearer meaning everything had.  It seemed that almost every trip to the bathroom was a milestone, and when something was especially important, you laminated it--a sure sign that you accomplished a feat worth remembering!  I cherished those tokens for what they were, and for the exercises in self-worth they would always be.

What can we really do beyond making the most out of every experience we're given (or, even better, every experience we seek)?  And who's to say there aren't multiple unpredictable ways by which we can laminate our experiences?  Only you can answer these questions, and while the results might not always please you, they will certainly ease you into a path most suitable--one that grows infinitely, but in a way that always seems to work itself out.

Findeth feith, myn brethren. :)


Dress and Shoes: J. Crew.

All photos thanks to Alex Zhu, and all animals thanks to his sister, Julia, in Switzerland!

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