In an effort to keep myself busy over the past few days I’ve spent at my parents’ house, I’ve once again taken up my crafting habit. I also had several in-the-works projects I needed to finish before they were ready to be packed away for the big move. I finally finished up two of the four throw pillows I was making and also made a lamp just for fun. I’m quite impressed with the outcome of all three items and can’t wait to try my hand at a few more one-step-above-basic projects.
My dad also helped me plan out the arrangement of my new apartment. I feel like I should explain that my father and I have been fascinated with architecture for years. One of the best memories I have of growing up is drawing floor plans on graph paper with my dad. I have a whole binder full of dream houses from different stages of my life. Needless to say, we had both the materials and basic skills to make a rather detailed plan.
I’m pretty excited about the way it turned it out. I was starting to become a little terrified of the move, but now that I can see something tangible and I can feel like I’ve worked out at least one tiny part of the puzzle, my excitement is beating out the terror. Things will work out okay after all. The other day I heard that Andy Grammer song “Keep Your Head Up” on the radio, and a few lyrics stuck out to me as I was driving home:
I’m buyin in the skeptics,
Skeptics mess with the confidence in my eyes.
I’m seeing all the angles start to get tangled
I start to compromise
My life and the purpose.
Is it all worth it?
Am I gonna turn out fine?
The other day these lyrics resonated with me, and I gave in once again to my fears. I started to wonder if this crazy path I’ve chosen, pursuing an esoteric field and a position in academia that may be hitting its expiration point soon, is worth it. Then tonight after dinner with some old family friends who asked me all about my new school and campus and my crazy, wacky love for what I study, I realized that I could talk to them about my passion all night. They just answer with blank stares and nods most of the time as I go off on some tangent about an obscure poem I read or about an idea I had for my Master’s thesis. Everyone tells me that they can see how happy I am and how much I love what I do all the time. I guess I never realize because I never feel like I’m working when I’m doing what I love. I feel like society has taught me that work is supposed to feel onerous and painful, but I’ve never felt like that while dissecting the use of medieval motifs in Harry Potter or while reading Shakespeare or while learning Middle English. I’ve never felt like I’m working or killing myself to get a paycheck. I find myself going back to it, reading articles, finding new books and authors to investigate, during my down time. And that, right there, is when the rest of the song’s lyrics hit me:
This is just a journey
Drop your worries
You are gonna turn out fine.
Oh, you’ll turn out fine.
Fine, oh, you’ll turn out fine.