I like learning. I even like studying.
I love theories.
When everyone wants to go out to work, I would rather stay in my cocoon of school, not just because of a sense of security, but because I actually genuinely like school. I love the environment of learning and enthusiasm. I love that people here seek knowledge and are still passionate about changing the world.
Yet, I cannot bear to go into academia. I love negotiating abstract concepts in my mind, yes. But I only love theories for their ability to shed light on reality. I eventually want to propel myself into that world. The world currently on the other side my friends are scrambling to enter at the highest speed, to get the most advantageous spot.
I have a terrible tendency to slip into fantasy, into fiction. Recently, I saw a job posting online that had the requirement: love to watch television. I was basically silently screaming the whole way while drafting my cover letter and emailing the person in charge. I wish I didn’t have to get through things as crass as resumes and cover letter and an entire brutal application process. I hate that people are reduced to their embellished achievements.
I wish I could run straight into their office talking incessantly about all the shows I love, about how much I would love to change our media industry, about all the rants I’ve had over the years when consuming local content. I would love to go all Meredith Grey. Pick me, choose me, you don’t have to love me, but that would be nice.
I have a meeting with aforementioned production company this week. I’m so nervous because I do the worst at interview-like situations, and because I actually want this so so so much, and that makes it the most horrid feeling in the world. So, I refuse to mention this to my close friends and family for fear of disappointment.
This has been a rambly post in a midst of midterm fever, crises of self-worth and a stubborn reluctance to give up what I love for crude realities.