Wednesday, 22 July 2015

What if uni hadn't happened?

It's late, I have an eight hour shift tomorrow and I am hovering over my laptop like some confused monkey trying to write down the correct words in a sort of correct order.

Why?

Well it seems to be that at this desolate hour every night, I find myself thinking about a lot of things and it has occurred to me that I usually don't write these thoughts down, something I have been told to do. This being by my Creative Writing lecturer at uni, not a therapist. And not like a diary for that matter before people claim I have a little notebook with all my deepest secrets in.  

Tonight I have stumbled upon a particular thought that has become more and more prominent over the last twelve months; the future

On reflecting back on two amazing years at university I have realised something rather important, that I have actually learnt something. And before you go, 'Ah yeah, funny that, being at uni and all...', not all of it was what I was expecting to have done as an enthusiastic fresher two years ago. Of course I have learnt about literary realism, the stylistic analysis of language and other peculiar sounding topics you don't care about. But all these are relatively minor in comparison to one thing. That I am now at an age where I have a clearer understanding of what I want to do in life. The clearest idea that I have ever had in fact. And this is not necessarily because of what my degree has taught me, though it has influenced it greatly, but through maturity and interaction through others from all over the place. I have begun to understand that there is so much out there. That the safe and rhythmic life of back home is just a grain of sand that, frankly, is boring and plain. I now realise home is great but not the greatest and that the wetherspoons pub I find myself in often is quite simply, shit.

The security of back home was something I always loved and still do. But now I feel that I'm actually ready to go out into the real world and make something of myself, after one more of year of reckless drinking at uni that is.

What I want to do specifically in terms of career... I am not sure. But I do know that I want to be a writer. Preferably a novelist making millions, selling my stories to film and living the high life. If that doesn't work out then I will be happy to just write the odd novel, hopefully get published and become a name a few know and like.

It just all seems to me that I have only just properly come to this conclusion. That it is after two years of living in a city miles from home, meeting people from all over the place that has helped me come to this decision. A decision that I was expected to have some sort of inkling of at the age of 16 or 18. An idea that is worrying to think I would not have had if I hadn't gone to uni or got in, I would perhaps never have know what I wanted to do.

Bit of food for thought when you think about the millions of others who could have possibly missed that time in their life whereby they get a real idea of what they want in life. I'm not sure if that makes me lucky, mature or just someone who has made a decision about their life. All I know is that for the first time in my life, I am absolutely grateful for the experiences I have had that lead me to this point now.

Pretty deep I guess.

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