Around three years ago, I remember someone saying that no one should pursue his hobby or interest as his career because eventually, he will be jaded with it. Sooner or later, the tired feeling will creep up to the level of detest and that is something happy ending-sucker Disney would not like. Coincidentally, this notion also goes against one of the songs included in the Cinderella soundtrack, Follow Your Heart.
See, I’m absolutely positive I chose the right school but I’m not sure if I took the right course. Biology (particularly, the subset that has to do with micro existences) is the subject that almost kicked me from the Director’s List once, my waterloo, my weakness, my flaw. Need I put emphasis on this more? I singled it out because first off, it conjures this highfalutin feel and secondly, I was well aware that only forty students get accepted into this course; hence, it is esteemed. This may be some serious case of histrionic personality disorder but really, doesn’t it feel extra nice when a random person who asks for your academic background all of a sudden treats you with much respect after he hears your reply? Go on, bludgeon me.
It has always been about the prestige and the Handel’s Messiahs you get past the higher hurdle. I threw away journalism four years ago because I knew science or engineering can take me somewhere greater than the tabloids and the senseless evening news whose World News portion would rather feature a chicken with extra appendages than North Korea’s nuclear weapon. It’s the vain nature of humans, ladies and gentlemen.
Ironically though, no matter how hard I try to learn to love my pick, the results never fail to dishearten me. I am slowly taking it into my system and in no time, this post will be nothing but a stupid dilemma as I look back four years from now. I am not quitting.
