It’s the night of the Fourth of July and the only fireworks I hear are coming from my white iPod ear buds.
I sit alone on a generic teal couch in the lounge of a sterile dormitory. In the air, the pungent smell of vodka, rum and beer replace the raucous voices of the other students — they had left for the sound of real sonic booms and bustling bars. The light of my MacBook screen illuminates my face and simulated fireworks echo in the background of Eluvuim’s pensively instrumental “Repose in Blue.” This is my digital campfire on my less-than-stellar Independence Day.
Sorting through my portfolio and completing an application on the hard couch, I prepare for a job interview less than 12 hours away. I’d spent the day at Poynter tirelessly talking with as many people as I could, looking for advice about my current job situation. I fretted and freaked and finally fell asleep. I’d overwhelmed myself to the point of sheer inoperability, and this wasn’t the first time I’d done so.
Six months ago, I had a conversation online with a good friend of mine. It was the kind of conversation that slams you down on the ground. It was the kind of conversation that forces you to observe your surroundings. It was the kind of conversation that unapologetically underscores your greatest weakness. A weakness that you’ve so carefully protected you forgot it even existed.
“No one cares about you, no one cares about me or anyone else, it is a fact that in a professional world you have a few mentors you can go to for specific advice and it is you that has to shape your future direction,” he bluntly told me. “You need to figure out YOURSELF. Not what everyone wants you to be, not what you think everyone will see you as.”
“You’re so scared of your own fault, that your own cowardice has crippled you to the point of operational inability, the inability to act in any way that is seriously life altering.”
There’s a certain point at which you realize you must change the way you’re living your life. It’s that point when you realize you must take a risk and make a choice. You must overcome apathy. You must make a decision. As my friend pointed out, for so much of my life, that’s something I’ve not done.
The second week here at Poynter, our team did a piece titled, “Ready for the Next Step.” It was a story about a girl who was getting her diploma on her second run through high school. I sat in her dingy, stark, yellow living room. She, in her flowing maroon dress, prepared herself for the evening’s ceremonies, exuding a palpable sense of confidence. I wish I’d had that at her age.
In my senior year of high school, I didn’t know what I wanted to major in, so I chose to go to the University of Michigan for its endless opportunities. The reason I started working at my college newspaper was to get into design. The reason I submitted an application to a design competition was through the suggestion of my design editor. The reason I ended up at Poynter was through the encouragement of my parents and the Poynter faculty. Sure, I may have signed the papers confirming those decisions, but I never really made any of those decisions. Others made them for me.
When you get on a path that starts taking you places, you have to be careful — stop often, turn around and critically observe the route you’ve taken. Is this the right direction? Is this my best option? Is this what I want to do?
The past year of my life has hurled me faster and faster toward a defined career path and for much of that time, I’ve never asked myself if this is really the best path to take, if this is what’s best for me.
But on that night in the lounge, preparing myself for my next step, I stopped. I turned around to look at where I’d come from and turned back to look at where I’m going. What I saw was a past full of indecision, a past full of apathy. Perhaps it grew out of my innate desire to make everyone happy, my innate habit of placing full faith in anyone but myself. Whatever the reason, however, I’ve found a career in design, by design. And while I can’t, nor can anyone else, say with complete certainty that this next step’s going to be the best one, right now, I can tell you it’s the right one. But what’s more important is that this time, I’ve decided for myself.
Perhaps I did indeed celebrate Independence Day.
