Naturally, my goals for this blog have changed somewhat. Initially I wanted to tell stories about South Africans I was meeting and experiences that I was having. But when I look back over the last entry, I see that it is more about accomplishing an unfathomable dream.
In many ways life in Columbia has been much more challenging than life in South Africa. Even the most optimistic, hopeful, determined person can be crushed by the pressure of graduation, of reality, and of that word that I hate: future.
I feel like my life has once again become a countdown of time: three months until graduation, four months until I return to Johannesburg, six months until United Airlines will remind me to come back to Kansas City. Ten months until I am 23 and need to prove to myself that I have done something in this world, that the last year has not been a waste, and I have lived to my fullest potential.
Sometimes I get glimpses of what my parents and grandparents have been telling me for years: time goes by quicker than you think. When did I become 22? There are eight years until I am 30. Seriously. Think about that—it is equidistance from 14. I still feel 14, okay not really… but at least 17. Not 22.
Several years ago I felt a similar perplexity at the loss of time and decided that I would do something remarkable with my life every year. At least that way I can look back on my life and say,
that was the year I ran my first marathon
that was the year I wrote a screenplay
that was the year I left everyone I knew in Portland and came to Missouri
that was the year I went to Johannesburg for five and a half months.
Some year I’ll be 81, looking back on my eightieth year that has just been a tiny fraction – a mere 1/80th-- of my lifetime. A millisecond.
That was the year I learned to knit because damnit, I’m 80.
It doesn’t matter the level of the accomplishment, but if it is remarkable to you in some way (like my aunt who started creating sculptures out of dryer lint) then do it.
If I keep track in this way, will it make my lifetime seem more quantifiable? I’m not sure. Maybe it makes the countdown less maddening.
I talked to my brother last night, trying to get the cliff notes on how to approach graduation and the daunting task of deciding your life. He told me the simplest thing, that of course I knew along, and we all know all along, but just lose sight of: it is the journey that counts, not the destination.
I am going back to Johannesburg for the World Cup in hopes of jumpstarting an international reporting career. Will it work? I have no idea. Am I terrified? Absolutely. Yes my 22nd year can always be “the year that I graduate,” but for me I know that my remarkable thing must be more than that. Graduation, for many of us, has become a given. Where you direct your life after that is the challenge. So let yourself be remarkable.
