Harry. Harry Potter.
I am a declared English literature major and I applied for graduation next semester and now I will hyperventilate obnoxiously. This semester is more than halfway over, so I feel like I’m buried under mountains of homework and papers and expectations that I can’t possibly live up to. My GPA is not high enough to get into graduate school and I’ll need to apply for internships and work for another year before I can think about pursuing a masters degree, which does not sound very appealing.
But, I like fantasizing that I’ll be able to move out of my parents soon and be on my own forever. Maybe out of this state. Maybe out of this country. Well, maybe not. New England is a good alternative to the actual England. Old England? I digress. I’ll figure it out.
This chapter of my life is interesting. It’s nice. It’s all about me. Looking back on my older entries here, most of my life was centered on someone else, something else. Now it’s all about my future. And I’m not just whining about my indecisiveness. I’ve got this. I can do this.
There are moments where I feel lost and doubtful, but the moments — however fleeting — that I can see myself being an English professor are very refreshing. And when I think about those years that I spent wanting to be a high school teacher, I never felt like I would ever be as happy.
Who knows? I think I’ve made the right choice. If anything, I know who I am and who I will be and what I want to be and that balance alone makes me happy. Enough. For now.