procrastinating being deep for once.
In all seriousness though, this core question reared its ugly head today.
Dear lord, “ugly”, I used to know synonyms. That’s exactly my point though, although I sometimes found English boring, I was always much better at it than Maths. My prowess in Biology seems to be solely because it’s the easy science and as soon as a degree of difficulty pervades the mush of memorising I falter and fall behind. My science and maths dominated timetable is beyond uninspiring.
So should I be pursuing something like Journalism? I’m kinda ok at things, but writing is the only one that I’ve ever felt natural talent in. Music, Sport, Drawing, always kinda mediocre. Always practicing to no avail.
I guess my Science and Arts course at University says it all really. “I don’t know what i’m doing with myself, I hope someone employs me before I die.” God this is morbid. I wish I lived in the fucking 60s. No, that still doesn’t work. Expected this to be cathartic (good word, well played) but I feel that’s it’s simply compounding my problem. Or perhaps helping me slide towards that inevitable conclusion that I need to “Sort my life out” as a famous Cadet Leader once said, alot.
My parents have always said that I shouldn’t let my true passion turn into a career. Obviously this doesn’t apply to everyone but their obsession with theatre really didn’t turn out for the best. I fear if I turn to cars, my true passion, I will ruin that. Perhaps I won’t though. Therin lies my dream. To be a car journalist. To endlessly differentiate between the feel of a doorhandle on a Mercedes as compared to a Ford. To find a thousand words for rumble and endlessly create metaphors for the intense communication your arse has with the back wheels. To evaluate the curves of the latest Porsche as I would those of an attractive woman.
Thank God I can do more Arts next year.