You know what the scary thing is?
Suddenly it feels like everyone here have been saying how good my writing is, how I should be pursuing this – as in, why not? – and then they wonder why I’m taking engineering. Or they sense that I don’t seem to be so into it. They probe, they question. I stay silent. Then I say, perhaps as a defense mechanism, “but I really like the environmental stuff, that one is genuine.” Only instead, they question further, “so why not take environmental science? Engineering and writing seem so far off from one another.”
I feel like I’m trying hard to hide the fact that this is where my passion truly lies – but even on the surface, it feels like people around can sense it. It feels like a lot of people are wondering why I’m not an English or language-writing whatever major. I’m starting to feel scared, because I know that in the end other people are not me – their words are theirs, they can say what they want but it’s still my life, my choices, my decisions… but more and more, and as the number of people saying this increases, it’s like my heart is speaking up too. It’s like my heart is trying to tell me that they might just… be right.
what do I do? Or rather, what can I do?
I’m realistic enough to know that in order to live the dream, I sort of let go of another one – in order to get here to the States, when I’d applied for scholarships, I put a basic major (engineering, without the environmental) that can land me a spot better (or so I thought).
I’m realistic enough to realize that even as it is, I am already so blessed, that I’m not suffering any major shortcomings, that even if I’m still somewhat half-in, half-out with this engineering shiznit, His Grace is really great – I’m still doing okay with the studies, still so far so good. In fact, better than I’d thought I would be honestly.
I more than understand that in a way I’m not entitled to complain, that when viewed from another person’s point of view, I am just so blessed - I’m here, supposedly being where I’ve wanted to, pursuing what I’d fought so hard for, being rewarded for the efforts I’d put in all this while, having such a solid support system back home…
In a realistic world, people hardly get what they want. Hardly. They get their second-choices or third or fourth, but they don’t always always always get their firsts just about every single time.
But I do. I do, I do, I do. I’m fully aware of this.
Yet,
How does one truly knows what is The Right Choice?
Realistically speaking as well, I know that my heart isn’t quite into this. Because my 10-year plan that’s in my mind is already skewed: get the bachelors in engineering and pursue something completely off-steer from it for Masters. For that time around, I’ve already decided even now that I won’t give in. I’ll take up something social science or English-based or whatever. Time and time again I keep wondering if I’m already in too deep – attached to the scholarship and all that jazz – that changing major is completely impossible. At this point right now, I feel it is. So I want to give up this silent hope (that keeps growing lately, more and more) in wanting to major in writing-stuff. Except surprisingly, it’s sort of coming after me. I want to tell myself right now I need to put on the engineering cap and off with the idealistic, emotional side – and so far yes, so good -
but my heart won’t shut up.
They say they’re surprised with my command of English, when it’s supposed to be my second language – they really feel I’ve something. Something truly worth it in this line, if I learn the right techniques and all that.
They feel I’ve real talent with this.
I know this is not an all-or-nothing situation. That writing, like many other things, can take in various shapes and forms. I’m being too dramatic – way too dramatic – if I say that I can never take it up, now that I’m in this position. That it doesn’t have to mean what it literally means – yes even in engineering, it’s not like I won’t be seeing it, still doing it.
But they talk about my style. My firm command. My potential.
What do I do? Isn’t it too late?
Yours, Jane
(P/S: On a not-so-serious side note, my roommate is having sex tomorrow. in this room. My dorm room. Oh wait, ours. But we’ve been very compliant of one another that it’d be selfish – I think? – of me if i were to say no, take it elsewhere. Do it elsewhere. So i’m staying out of the room tomorrow night. Let’s hope sex business doesn’t smell, cos if it does then that would be so gross, wouldn’t it?)
