Birdsong

I like to draw. (Flickr photostream)

A level results came out on Thursday. It was strange seeing the fuss and tumble of it from the point of view of someone who has already been through it all. It made me feel terribly, bone-achingly, creaking-joints-ingly old. Which is ridiculous, really, as there's only a year in it- but going to university for the first time is just such a huge thing. I feel like I should be sitting these people down and sharing some life-determining, profound nuggets of wisdom earned in my own first year. (Something along the lines of, "don't alienate people in your first week by being a miserable fuck.") But I'm sure those people about to set forth on The Grand University Adventure have already had barrow-loads of completely unhelpful advice from a variety of assorted friends and relatives, so there's no point in boring them further. It makes me wish I too were going away for the first time, as I doubt I'll ever do anything quite as exciting ever again- short of emigrating, and I don't really want to do that.

Now that I am a bit older, the horrible issue of the rest of my life is coming up more and more frequently. Apparently, having finished my first year of university, I am obliged to have an ultimate life goal laid out before me. I don't know what I want to do with my life- I haven't come any closer to knowing that than I was at this time a year ago. To be honest, I don't want to think about it. I hate thinking about the future. It's too difficult, and scary, and it's coming closer and closer; a huge looming cloud on the horizon which, when I complete my degree in 2010, will burst overhead and shower me with RESPONSIBILITY and DECISIONS and ACTUAL REAL LIFE STUFF. No more hiding behind the education system: it will be time to step out and choose what I want to do in my life, for the first time, as a true individual.

I wish I had kept at least one of my childhood ambitions- to be a teacher, interior designer, vet, advertising copy-writer, author, whichever- just so I could have some kind of direction now. But then again, while I long for some secure-ish idea for a life plan, I can't stand the idea of anything definite and permanent. I hate forevers. When 'eternal life' is used as a reason for following a particular faith, I always think, "...but WHY is that a good thing??" If I've lived to be 70-odd or whatever, I bloody well want to have a nice quiet death afterwards, not more exhuasting life until the end of time, thank you. I've already aired my stolen feelings on love and marriage, and nothing has happened since then to make me change those views. It makes me angry when men and women are portrayed as having failed for not having found a spouse- just why is it presumed necessary? Children can be nice, yes, but I feel people should be judged on more than their ability to breed successfully. And unless I have the most interesting, diverse, stimulating job ever, I don't want to be shoe-horned into one vocation for the rest of my life. And I know that's not what the 'so what will you do with your Biomed degree?' brigade are getting at exactly, but that's still how I feel about the question. Like I should have a fully time-tabled agenda for the rest of my life, from which I never deviate, starting right now and continuing in minute detail until my scheduled time of death.

I can't do that. That's just not how I work. As long as I lead a mostly happy life- and that's under my ideas of happy, not anyone else's- I don't see why I need know now exactly how I'll get there.

Still, it would be kind of nice if I could channel half as much time and thought into even attempting to craft a life plan, as I manage when I am tearing the idea apart...