It's Sunday evening. I'm turning 22 this Thursday. It's been a good weekend. I just played a song that made me cry, and I'm watching a show that makes me laugh. I feel like I am on the edge of something. Not completely anything. Maybe an adult? Maybe not.
Am I getting the birthday blues? Possibly. I don't want to get any older. I feel like it's been meaningless since I turned 18. I'm stuck. I'm the same person (some may disagree) so why should I get any older? There's a lot of stuff I thought I would have done by now. There's a lot of stuff that I've done that I hadn't thought of doing. There's a bunch of stuff I didn't want to do that I've done anyway. Has it been a good year? It's been alright, I guess. That sounds a bit depressing doesn't it? It's not, really. It has actually been an alright year. I've learnt what it is to work (more or less), and to make my own money. I've learnt what it is to take the tube every day (it's a pain, that's what it is) and I've seen a bit more of London. I've also been to Hungary.
Hungarian is a gorgeous language. It isn't Indoeuropean, there isn't anything about it similar to English, Spanish, Hindi or Russian (yes, all these languages have more in common with each other than they have with Hungarian). I would like to learn Hungarian. It sounds difficult and really beautiful. I have been thinking a bit about the future lately, probably because next academic year is the last year of Uni, and now that I've worked for a year in a lab I'm not so sure about what I want to do. Well, no, that's a lie: I want to publish a book, become a rich author and spend my days walking around the city of my choice (probably London or New York, Paris once in a while, Berlin in spring and possibly Autumn, Vientianne when I want to get away, you get my drift) and writing and not doing much else (perhaps studying for a second and then a third degree). But this (probably) isn't going to happen. So. What do I want to do? I have no idea. I want to get a PhD. I want to study genetics. But that is a job. It is much more of a job than I ever imagined it to be. So what are my options? After years of saying I could never be a teacher I'm starting to realize that it's not a bad way out for me: plenty of holidays to travel, I could teach what I know, plenty of holidays to travel. Another option is to be an interpreter. I'd have to study a Masters for that. Or another degree. I wouldn't mind, but I don't think my parents would be happy with the idea. I want to study linguistics. What if I applied to Uni again to retrain as a linguist? Fact is, I have no clue what to do with my life. I know what I will most likely do, but I don't know for sure, and there's so many options. I could become a banker, or write for a magazine.
I'm happy to know that I don't know. People who have their lives planned out scare me. How can people know? I don't know where I'll live in a couple of years, let alone what I'll be doing in ten. I don't want to know. Today I was thinking about what I'll be doing on Wednesday evening, on my last night as a 21 year old. I'll be in London. That seems obvious now. Had someone asked me just five years ago I would never have answered that. So one hope for the next year: that it's unexpected.
