so i attempted, for the third freaking time to turn in my application for my mass comm major and once more, i was sent back with my entire package of papers and transcripts to get another verification for the mass comm class i took at mt. sac over the summer. i just want to be a mass comm-er! gosh, everyone laughs at us anyway, what the hell.
and i got to thinking. i have absolutely no idea what i want to do and when i think about it more and more, it gets me really sad, really angry, really cynical. because there are so many people out there, so many of my friends, that just know. i mean, they've had this magical incident, this happening that said to them, this is what you want to do. and they're inspired. and i want to be inspired. i want to know. yeah i'm a mass comm-er, psych hopeful - but what? what am i going to do with that? i don't want to be a psychologist. i don't exactly want to go into journalism. i just - love learning what i learn. and people call us humanities majors party kids trying to take the easy way out but the truth of the matter is, i love what i learn. because when am i ever going to learn this stuff - i'm not going to just waltz into the louvre on my free weekend and catch up on my renaissasnce art, pick up a weber essay and start reading about class struggle, sit in on a lecture at the nearest university to freshen up my history dates. but right now, i'm thrown head first into the vast array of knowledge that is right in front of me. so i'm just going to take it, enjoy the ride, and hopefully be thankful in the end that i did chose to abandon reason for speculation. call my major bullshit, tell me it's easy, sure, go ahead. but i love it. and you can't take that away.
god, but still, what am i going to do with my life? (and these are the two things i have at least a slight passion for)
1. my own magazine
2. nevermind, there was only one.
i'm lacking a drive. passion. inspiration. i just want to be inspired. because the last time i was, i remember being happy. knowing at least that i wanted something. okay, then it was someone, but that's a whole other story. that person did inspire me though - every piece of me, every fiber that constitutes my being, every aura within me. it felt right, like i deserved it even. and i probably took it for granted because now, three years later, i can't find any source of inspiration. and i need it badly.
and i got to thinking. i have absolutely no idea what i want to do and when i think about it more and more, it gets me really sad, really angry, really cynical. because there are so many people out there, so many of my friends, that just know. i mean, they've had this magical incident, this happening that said to them, this is what you want to do. and they're inspired. and i want to be inspired. i want to know. yeah i'm a mass comm-er, psych hopeful - but what? what am i going to do with that? i don't want to be a psychologist. i don't exactly want to go into journalism. i just - love learning what i learn. and people call us humanities majors party kids trying to take the easy way out but the truth of the matter is, i love what i learn. because when am i ever going to learn this stuff - i'm not going to just waltz into the louvre on my free weekend and catch up on my renaissasnce art, pick up a weber essay and start reading about class struggle, sit in on a lecture at the nearest university to freshen up my history dates. but right now, i'm thrown head first into the vast array of knowledge that is right in front of me. so i'm just going to take it, enjoy the ride, and hopefully be thankful in the end that i did chose to abandon reason for speculation. call my major bullshit, tell me it's easy, sure, go ahead. but i love it. and you can't take that away.
god, but still, what am i going to do with my life? (and these are the two things i have at least a slight passion for)
1. my own magazine
2. nevermind, there was only one.
i'm lacking a drive. passion. inspiration. i just want to be inspired. because the last time i was, i remember being happy. knowing at least that i wanted something. okay, then it was someone, but that's a whole other story. that person did inspire me though - every piece of me, every fiber that constitutes my being, every aura within me. it felt right, like i deserved it even. and i probably took it for granted because now, three years later, i can't find any source of inspiration. and i need it badly.
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