On uncertainty, dreams and writing.

So here I am. Applying for jobs that I do not really want, building up this mythical image of myself using as many ‘buzzwords’ as humanly possible in the desperate hope that some recruiter out there will fall prey to buzzwords such as ‘driven’ and ‘innovative’.

Along with millions of other graduates across the UK, I am taking the first tentative steps into the rat race. As collectively a generation of graduates moan and groan about the ills of the entire application process, parallels can be already drawn with people 20 years into their career moaning about the soporific nature of their work. Are we unknowingly being carried along by the strong currents of uniformity? By the time we are washed ashore will we just be cogs in the well oiled machinery of another money making entity? Or am I being too pessimistic, am I actually on the cusp of a life changing position that will serve as a stepping stone for greater things. There is no way to know for sure, but one thing I do know is that I feel I am taking the coward’s way out.

Had you asked me when I was 12 years old what I wanted to be, I would have instantly told you “a writer!”. Inspired by Tolkien and Rowling, C.S.Lewis and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle alike, I wanted nothing more than to be part of the next generation of story tellers sharing the workings of their wonderful minds with gleeful bookworms across the planet. Now you may put this down to youthful exuberance, and point to the swathes of unrealised Astronauts, Professional Athletes and Supreme Commanders of the Universe. But maybe that’s a generation of Astronauts , Athletes and leaders!? that we have missed out on to our detriment! Obviously all children have wishful dreams, but some of them (mine included) continue buzzing around your heart like a persistent fly attracted to a pile of steaming shit. We swat and swat trying to get rid of this pesky bug as we grow up and begin to realise what a difficult path it is beseeching us to follow. A path of uncertainty , of fleeting successes interspersed with crushing failures and rejections. Faced with the opportunity of a vocational degree leading to a relatively comfortable job, who can really claim to have had the courage to follow this dream? Maybe 1 in 100. So a generation of brilliant artists , entrepreneurs and dreamers is replaced by a horde of mediocre engineers , lawyers and doctors.

Is there any point to saying all this? All I have really said is most people don’t have the courage to do what they really want to do, in the face of what they are ‘expected’ to do. Nothing particularly groundbreaking. I guess I am just expressing what has been on my mind for a while, the gnawing feeling that despite being content with where I am in life right now, there is a part of me that has been missing for a long time. The process of job applications has led to some serious self reflection about my future. Whilst I am still unsure about 99% of it, the 1% of certainty is that the part of me feeling discontent was the inner writer in me crying out to be exercised. He has been confined to a cell in the deepest recesses of my inner mind for several years, growing bloated and lethargic, 2 prison guards “Fear” and “Procrastination” standing watch diligently. I suppose this blog could be best described as a jailbreak attempt of sorts. I am tired of being afraid; afraid that my writing is not good enough or that I could be spending this time doing something more productive, and tired of telling myself I will start writing soon, after my exams, after I graduate, once I am financially stable. There is an ocean of excuses out there, and every person has the choice to accept his fate and drown, or to try and swim frantically for their life in hope that they will come across an Island soon. (I just realised I use way too many metaphors).

So while I most definitely have loved my time studying electrical engineering and am not going to undertake any radical career changes overnight, I have come to the realisation I cannot neglect my childhood dreams any longer. Whatever form it takes, whatever meagre audience it reaches, however terrible it is, I want to start writing again. In other words , to paraphrase Robert Frost, I want to take the road less traveled by. Here’s to hoping it makes all the difference.