You know, I really wish I had a better way of writing this…But I don’t. So, here goes.
When I started writing almost a year and some months ago, it was my first real job into the post-college world. I took it as graciously as I could because I wasn’t earning much from anything else.
Everyone was telling me how lucky I was to have had a job (because Type A tendencies make you scramble on the Internet to find pay a day after graduating) so quickly without worrying about my future.
But the truth is, I’ve never really had to worry about much. I was the one person who had back-up plans for my back-up plans.
I hated the school system and so set out to do better in other things like finding extracurriculars, work placements, and internships that I also made my way into the finance industry. I suppose the moment of clarity came when I fought with my Mom whilst in Prague (of all places!) about how I shouldn’t have gone on a Euro trip and missed my interview to one of the most prominent insurance firms in the country.
They never called me back when I told I couldn’t go to Manila that same week.
I was lost…in a way.
Trying to find my footing in the world we all live in. I wanted to go out to the city because I spent years building up a resume to not be anywhere else.
You know, I had this plan. I knew how my life was going to be: Graduate from college, go to grad school right away with a Master’s in Economics or Finance or Management and then work for a stellar multi-national corporation a few years before quitting to start my own company.
The end goal had always been to start my something that was my own. Something that was tangible and earned me an income to put my Grandfather’s to shame.
When you grew up in a family that prides itself for having five (!!!) different businesses, you’re basically groomed and encouraged to have your own.
Then this writing thing happened and the past year since graduation, I haven’t done anything more than make a blog, write for magazines and entrepreneurs a-like, before finally deciding on going to business school.
Although I really would prefer to go to IE Business School this year, in my heart I knew I wasn’t meant to go. Despite all the efforts of getting accepted and saving up much of my past year’s income for it… I felt unsettled.
Like, here was this wonderful opportunity to go to Spain — one of my favourite countries — and work my way towards the plan. Obviously, I didn’t expect to drop out and send a lengthy email to the Head Coordinator that I couldn’t go through with it.
I’ve had some serious doubts about going and had opted not to waste money on something I wasn’t 100% about given the circumstances. I even remember sitting on top of a hill at the Royal Botanical Gardens in Sydney, writing in my journal dated March 31st about how for the first in my life, I was uncertain of something.
This all happened during my first solo trip overseas. I suppose going to certain places you loved as a kid (yet in foreign territory) does that too you, huh?
I’ve always had this inner debate about being a designer and a writer — unwittingly telling myself, I can never have both. Never be both.
And because I was too curious for the world to stay in a damn cubicle or become a manager at some fast growing multi-national corporation in Europe, I needed to find my footing again.
I was so sure of my life then.
I had a plan.
I would forego writing and build a design service-based company because it felt more my streak (even if I wasn’t earning as a designer for half a year) instead of waiting for the perfect moment to quit a day job I will probably not like.
The funny thing is, I may not believe in a God but at times like this make me think: “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”
I was just about to launch my new company, Alternative Post, when the City University of London sent me an email saying I passed their first phase of the application process. Months after I sent it (read: Last October).
If you don’t know, City has the best Journalism program in the UK. And in turn, could open doors I never knew I could freaking open.
In fact, I seriously doubted I would be offered a place as they reject more than half of all their applicants from across the world. And, really, who was I….A girl from a small city in the Philippines with no Ivy-league degree (or even good grades) to get accepted?!
But I did.
And it was both the happiest and frustrating thing in my life.
Truly, a God must be laughing.
Do I love to write? Yes. Maybe not about travel, specifically. But I do love the digital world (and have long given up on how to guides) and I starve when I don’t read enough content from my favourites.
I also love web design, if it’s any indication. Otherwise, I would not have called myself a designer even when I wasn’t making money from the profession. The irony.
If you’re still reading this soon to be 1,000-word rant/essay about how confusing life is, you must probably feel a connection to me somehow. Yeah?
I want to ask you: What do you think I should do?
London is calling and damn, if it doesn’t entice me.
Even if you have an answer (I most certainly don’t), I just wanted to share this frustration with you about life. And about how you probably don’t want to share your plans with anyone anymore. Ha.
Oh, and well, sharing it on the Internet might or might not be the best idea.