Large life decisions are funny things. You can brood over something for a week straight. You can pray, meditate, try not to think about, try to think about it more, make pro/con lists, consult various mentors, whine to various friends, and generally sulk, but in the end, sometimes all it takes is a small moment of clarity.
I was lying in bed with Ponyboy and Cherry this evening, waiting for them fall asleep, when suddenly I realized what my problem has been. Grad school doesn’t feel right to me. Spending several years shut up with literature doesn’t feel right to me. Deciding at twenty-one to devote my life to academia doesn’t feel right to me.
And in my experience, when things don’t feel right, and I ignore them, I regret that decision later on.
All I know, I thought as I listened to the kids’ breaths slow and even out, is that I want to see what the world has to offer me. I want to travel, be independent, work interesting jobs, and meet interesting people, I want to write for me, and not necessarily for a class. I want to do the kinds of things you can only do when you’re young and solo.
I’m still taking the GRE. I’m not ruling graduate school out entirely. But I do want to give myself a fair chance to explore before I make a long-term commitment.
The undecided English major is back, friends. Let the stereotype continue, and let the good times roll.