Small Things

Is it too early for a mid-life crisis?  I mean, I really hope that his is not the middle of my life.  Maybe a quarter-life crisis?  But then, I'm too old for that.

I just keep thinking.  You see, I'll be graduating this Spring with a Bachelors in Business (Entrepreneurship to be precise).  And Business makes sense to me - its easy for me - the path of least resistance.  But the thing is this:  the thing is, I've loved writing for as long as I can remember.  And not term papers, memos or statistical analyses.  I love writing: the kind of poetry or prose that explodes from your soul and leaves you feeling both empty and fulfilled once the words have safely reached paper.

I love design and art.  I love to create.  Since I was 10 years old, I've dreamed of being a photographer.  I would take my neighbor outside (she was 5) and pose her among the trees and flowers blooming in our front yard and click-click away with my father's old Nikor.  In fact, everything I can remember being really excited about doing had a strong creative component to it.

I appease this creative side of me here by writing little blurbs for the world to read and taking the best photos I can to add depth to these words.  But the void is still there.  I don't have enough time for it, its the background.  Its the part of me that gets pushed to the side to make room for Success.  And I hate that.  By some hidden societal objective, the part of me that feels most "Me" is getting stifled, and I don't know how to change it without jumping off one of the many bridges I've built.

The end of my path is so close and I feel I should be more excited and hopeful for the future.  Instead, I wish that I could go back 15 years, holding that acceptance letter to art school in my hand and tell that little-me to have the fortitude to choose the path I want even though the support for those dreams would have been less.  Instead, little-me listened to Reason.

And where is Reason now?  She's sitting there saying "I told you so" with that smug little look on her face while Me is slowly starving.  Reason doesn't even know how wrong she is and she never will because there are too many people standing around patting her on the back.

I can't help but wonder.  What is the point of life - this brief moment we spend here - if it is lived according to Reason's rules.  Reason says that money, stability, responsibility, goals and achievements are what's important in life.  And Me is wasting her last breath screaming at me "AND THEN WHAT?! WHAT WILL YOU AND REASON DO WITH ALL THOSE THINGS ONCE I'M DEAD?"

Here's my problem:  I don't have an answer for her.