By Amari D. Pollard
Many of us are under the misconception that we have time, and a lot of it. We always think we have now, and today, and tomorrow, and the next day—but time isn’t something that is guaranteed, nor is it something that moves slowly [when you really think about it].
Last week when I walked into the café there was a table set up promoting prep courses for the GMATs and LSATs and GREs, basically every graduate-level standardized test you could think of. Looking at that purple table with the alphabet plastered across it, I realized for what felt like the first time that I was a sophomore in college [complete weirdness], which meant I didn’t have much time before I would be taking one of those tests.
Suddenly I was so aware of my future. That in less than three years I wouldn’t be at Le Moyne, that I would be let out of my cage and released into the wild, that my parents would be starting the process of completely detangling me financially from their lives. [If you just heard a deathlike shriek, don’t be alarmed. That was just me screaming at the thought.]
Considering all of those things, made me think: If I’m not at Le Moyne, where will I be? Will I have a job? Will I even survive?
In high school my future felt so set, as if a hot iron had branded it into my skin. It was clear—Go to Le Moyne, play lacrosse, study communications. But now, what comes after college, what comes after Le Moyne, doesn’t seem so simple.
The possibilities after college are infinite. I could go to graduate school, or I could go straight into the workforce, or I could do a graduate internship, or I could do all three, or worst of all, I could be jobless and living at home with my parents [that was me screaming again].
Sometimes I want the power to freeze time. To stay in this moment perpetually, to stay 19 for the rest of my life because being 19 seems like the best limbo there is. Here I’m an adult—for the most part— but I’m not all around 100 percent responsible for myself. I can be carefree and I can dream. But getting older means waking up.
I wish I had the answers—for everyone. The unknown can be/is the scariest part of life and the future can seem so daunting. And I could choose to focus on that, to allow myself to get lost in the darkness of the future, to let it wash me away.
Or maybe there’s a way I could let my fear fuel my drive.
Stay in and study on a Saturday because I’m afraid my GPA may not be where I want it to be. Apply for internships because I’m afraid my resume shows I don’t have enough experience. Network the heck out of the world [so when it comes to finding a job my connections are endless] because I’m afraid the job market will be difficult when I graduate.
David Joseph Schwartz once said that in order to fight fear, we must act. So I think I’ll choose to act.
What will you do?
Picture Courtesy of http://www.nerdwallet.com