Although I had a million ideas for this column, I came to the conclusion that most of them would bore you to death. Here are a few; you be the judge.
Comedic news reports taking over Generation Y’s interest in politics. Boring, right? Fast food workers’ internal hate for their job; I mean, really, I just want some extra fancy ketchup not a piece of gold. Last, but not least, my latest trip to the tattoo parlor. This could have been interesting considering how long I debated my newest ink splatter, but none the less nothing mind boggling. I like mind boggling. So here it is. I regret settling.
It all began in August of 2006. I was a freshman Bearkat determined to be a broadcast star. This lasted all of one semester. The moment of truth came when I tried to be a DJ on 95.7 the Kat and failed miserably. I neither like, nor understand technology. So being behind a switch board, a video camera or anything else tech savvy was like being a bull in a china store: a disaster. So I made the short leap to print.
I have always loved to write and have been told I am pretty good at it, but as time dragged on I considered it more of a hobby, not a passion. My passion has always been music, but since there is still no degree plan for becoming an international music sensation, I stuck with print.
I settled. I knew this wasn’t what I wanted for a career or even a back up plan. I knew because every time I was given a news assignment I became deflated and irritated at the idea of being told what to write.
I could feel my artistic freedom being ripped from my soul and my pen evolving into a light saber trying vigorously to defend my honor. What the heck was I going to do? Not only did I begin to despise the idea of being a journalist, I was on the road to graduating with a degree in it.
Then, lo and behold I began taking upper level electives, and fell head over heels madly in love with psychology. For the first time in a long time I wanted to be in class. I wanted to study. I found myself fascinated with human beings the same way I am fascinated by lyrics and their ability to alter minds. I found an extra passion, but for me it was a little too late.
Growing up I had some rough patches like most of us, and I unwillingly attended counseling. I’m not sure when it happened, or how it happened, but one day I let go of my past and began to live again. I believe a huge part of that transition can be accredited to my psychologist. I guess what I am trying to say is that at 18-years-old I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life, but because the rest of the world expected me to, I chose something random.
Now I am a summer and a semester away from graduation, and I wish I knew then what I know now. My dreams of going back to Nashville and pursuing music are still alive; I just wish my back up plan was something I loved, not just something I am good at.
I wish I was a psychology major. I don’t want to be a reporter, but I guess that is how the cookie crumbled. Depressing? Well, a little. I think I will just lay my money down and place my bet on music, because if I don’t make it I have two options: settle, or unload another couple thousand dollars into Sam Houston’s top hat. We shall see.
P.S. as much as I would like to believe this scenario is unique to me I know it is not. There are many people out there still searching for a deeper meaning to life, still settling. Mind boggling? To me it is.