Do you remember how, in high school, you could dream about what your future might hold without actually having to worry about your future? The only reality that stood in your way then was that obnoxiously loud Calculus teacher or that guy whose snores were quiet enough not to be heard by the teacher, but were loud enough to distract you from your dream life. I remember being able to tell myself then that every whim that popped in and out of my head was not only a possibility, but was a clear prophetic vision. According to daydream #1 (April 5th, 2007), in about a year I’ll be jumping off some ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean chasing after that ever elusive mako shark.
Although I never anticipated being the next Jacques Cousteau (I know that this is every adolescent’s dream), I also never thought that my college years would be spent dissecting the poetry of T.S Eliot, or reading about the troubles with historical periodization. But what shocks me the most is that, despite contrary belief, it appears as though time and space do not cease to exist after college. In fact, strange as it may seem, as the future moves ever closer, it begins to look more and more like the present.
I’ll keep you posted on what happens.