I’m at a loss people. I’m leaving Korea at the beginning of September and I don’t know what to do next. The plans I had have fallen through. And the worst part is… I don’t know what I want to do next. Some people have tried to be helpful about this: My moms says, "come home", Colin says, "come to London", John says, "stay here", and I say… well, I don’t say anything. Because I don’t know.
It is hard to achieve your goals when you don’t have any. Even to me, that sounds like loser-talk, but it is kind of true in my case. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I still don’t know what I want from life. Heck, I’m not even sure what it is I need to be truly happy at this point.
I blame Dirty Dancing for my screwed up views about romance, so I might as well blame someone (other than me, of course) for my apathy regarding my life’s direction.
I blame career advisors from school.
When I was in grade nine, I took my first aptitude test. It was ridiculous, but of course it was! I was only 14 or 15 years old at the time. I had no idea what was going on. My list of careers was three pages long and had hundreds of options. Even at that young age, I knew the results were stupid. I mean, can you even see me as a social worker? Someone would come to me for help and I would say something like, "Quit your bitching! Smarten up!" and then charge them for it (even if I was supposed to be working for free).
When I was in grade twelve, we took another aptitude test. The new one made more sense, sort of. There were only five or six careers on the list (I sure specialized a LOT between grades 9 and 12!) I remember them all, because it was a rather unforgettable list: actress, director, editor, lawyer, supreme court judge, and prime minister.
Yah, I’ll get right on that.
I took one more test when I was in my second year of college – the last one I ever did. I was going from college to university, and thought a career aptititude test might help me pick a major. Nope. This particular test asked a zillion questions about what you were good at doing, what you could do, and what you would like to do and boiled it all down to a two-letter code. When it was all said and done, and the advisor was looking up my code she turned to me and said, "Your code doesn’t exist."
I said, "Pardon me?"
She repeated, "The code that you’ve come up with doesn’t exist. There’s nothing here for you."
So I said, "What the hell does that mean?"
She replied, "It either means that you’ll be good at everything. Or nothing."
And that’s where I am today. Good at everything and yet nothing. And really unsure what to try next. I’ve emailed some other people in Malaysia – I haven’t given up on that yet. I’ve started the motions for getting my ancestral visa for the UK.
I’m not going home. I’m not staying here. I don’t want to be a teacher. I don’t want to be an administrator.
I have a whole list of the things I don’t want. I hope if I keep crossing things off the list, eventually there will be only one choice left. And I will get to say, "Yes! Of course! That’s what I wanted all along!"
That’s my hope. My fear is that I will keep crossing things off the list and ultimately find out that I would have been good at anything. Or nothing.