Where am I?

Everyone wonders where they are. We all question whether what we are doing is in fact the right thing. Parents, Grandparents, teachers, strangers even, will tell you of their sure-fire way to be successful. 'Work hard and you can be a Doctor'. 'Teaching's a good one, think of the holidays!', 'Why not do a plumbing course and set up your own business? Plenty of money in that.' Indeed, I followed these mantra. I followed them so closely that I was becoming old and judgemental long before my time. The only thing I gained from this way of thinking was the ability to silence (or at least quell) that little nagging in the mind; 'What will I do with my life?' Be a pharmacist. Money comes in thick and fast. Job for life, as well. Can't go wrong. Every person I told gave me their approval; they'd raise their eyebrows and nod semi-enthusiastically, as if I had claimed to possess mind-reading powers and guessed what they had for tea yesterday. It was the correct thing to do, and anyone who thought otherwise was a fool.

Where am I now? I'm studying English Literature (that close, ever-so-relatable subject to Pharmacy) in Cardiff University, where I had always intended to go. I'm not going to say that everything turned out for the best and I'm suddenly really enjoying everything it has to offer, because I would be lying to you. But what it has enabled me to do is reopen that nagging feeling and explore. After 4 years of 'what should I be doing in life?', it is finally chiming away to the new sound of 'what do I want out of life?' People now look at me sympathetically when I tell them my new subject choice. They look with the same eyes that they would give a child after it spells it's name semi-correctly without the interference of a parent. That look of 'well, you tried'. Almost there. Close, but not there yet. Put it on the pile with the rest of them.
In terms of the rest of the world, I am a future teacher. I chose a path with limited options and the only foreseeable job with any solidarity will be teaching. In their eyes, I will earn ample money; live in an ample house with an ample car; lead an ample life with some excitement and pleasure derived from reading various books and wearing the odd Christmas jumper in the Winter to show how rebellious and funny I am. I may even crack the odd Shakespeare-related joke, and become disheartened when the class of offspring I will be teaching does not share the same massive enthusiasm that I, an English Teacher, possess for books.

This should downhearten me. I should be reconsidering my options, avoid wasting my time studying a hobby such as reading. In truth, I welcome the predispositions this world has on Arts students. It makes me realise how different, charismatic, and downright intelligent the people I have met are. They do not wallow in their own sense of achievement. They gain no satisfaction in pleasing the Parents, Grandparents, teachers and strangers that tell them they are wasting their time doing such a boring and limited subject such as English Literature. 'What do you gain from reading books all day? Go and do a proper subject, like maths or engineering'. Now, I agree with these people that proclaim degrees such as Maths and Engineering and the like are very difficult degrees and are considered 'intelligent'. But what I will say is that they attract a different type of person. Put an equation in front of them and they'll froth at the mouth in ecstasy, dribbling uncontrollably until they finally work out x, its range of values and drawn the correct graph corresponding to these values. These are, as many will reiterate, skills that are used in business, in banking and accountancy, and will earn you a very good living. However, do the people who sing the chorus of praises for these degrees think about the periphery of the companies?

If everyone studied 'intelligent' subjects, then the world will be full of what I call 'doers'. These are people who, when presented with a problem, solve it to within an inch of its life, work out the cheapest and most effective way of providing a solution, and keep track of that progress for the next 10 years. Being correct satisfies that primeval hunger that lies in the stomach of the mind. These people are well paid for their hard work, and have safety and security in their jobs.

Now, where is this going. Well, who sets the problems for these people to solve? Who looked at a business and spotted a problem on the horizon? I could go as far to say as who even wanted to start the business? A pioneer. Someone who wanted to be different, who saw problems with the current solution and strives to forge a new path, despite the consequences. Someone who didn't care what others thought, or if the sums added up. They had the drive, the desire and the foresight to do something different, risky even, to the rest of the world. They march to the beat of a different drummer, crossing lines and smashing apart boundaries that had been subconsciously placed by society. These people I call 'Thinkers'.

If the world were full of Doers, then the world would be endlessly efficient, yet very small. If the same were true for Thinkers, then the world would be full of big ideas, but no-one to implement them. The world would be fantastically big, but hideously inefficient. The purpose of this entry was to highlight how by placing these people together, the world can become a fantastic place. No-one should be steered away from something just because it doesn't hold a particularly solid future, or isn't 'safe'. A finely crafted work of art and a perfectly deduced formula carry the same appeal, but to different people. We don't have to choose in some binary manner what world we have to live in. The world of maths and science, and the world of art and literature shouldn't be pitted against each other and forced to clash head-on into a standstill. If we placed them on the same side and directed them at the horizon, we could enjoy the spoils of a very rich future .

So, whoever you were at my nan's funeral who gave me that judgemental look when I told you I had gone from Pharmacy to English Literature, bugger off. I do not care. Open your mind a bit and live your own life. Don't cross Arts students out of the running yet, you bitch. Yeah, I told you. Have that. Suck on dem apples. Cow.

What the Hell...

I've decided that as playful as 140 characters is, Twitter does not capacitate the lengthier arguments for my daily nuisances. Blogger, Blogspot, whatever the Hell you are, we will make friends. We will vent our annoyances together, form a force. This is the beginning, the opening, the prelude. A pact that will remain unbroken. You are Simon to my Garfunkel, bread to my butter, Vintage Shops to a Hipster. Let us do this. Together, the World is our annoying, flawed, sadomasochistic oyster, and we shall go through our daily lives, observing, silent, and bring back our findings to be judged and reflected upon. Blogspot/er, LETS ROCK'N'ROLL.