“Oh God,” you think, “not another boring end-of-the-year story celebrating all the clichés of a first-year student’s experiences.” Well, deal with it. As cheesy as this might seem, I’m too proud not to share my boring story; I drifted on a sea of indecision for far, far too long. What am I good at? What will I be? What do I want to be? You know, all the questions the average, indecisive teenagers ask themselves quite often.
Well, I explored my musical side. Many of the new friends I’ve made can attest that I love to sing. God, I love singing so annoyingly much that annoying would be the way my fresh batch of friends describe my singing. Music was something I was also very good at in high-school (a big fat 9 on my report card after I passed my final exams, booyah), so I decided it would be wise to study musicology. Oh, did I mention I love to sing? Yeah, musicology turned out not to be my cup of tea; far too theoretical and philosophical for me. It was interesting, don’t get me wrong, but it didn’t spark the fire in me that I was hoping for, not to mention the pitiful career prospects.
So I (had to) quit, and I decided the wise and rational thing to do was to audition for conservatory. I was accepted! Rejoice! I’ve quit a study that lacked future job opportunities, and got accepted into one that lacked future job opportunities! Literally the first thing the students were told was “Congrats, guys, you made it. Now, statistically, 1 person out of your entire class (38 students) will be able to live off music.” I was determined to be that person, but you could probably make an estimated guess on how that story ends (hint: I’m writing this member mumble).
Luckily, after drifting on that stupid, stupid sea for way too many years, I shipwrecked. At age 23 I washed ashore on an island of sunshine and rainbows, unicorns and fairies: English language and culture in Utrecht. A heartwarming ending to a tedious search for what I want to do. As I walk along the beach I see all these different creatures showing me these different sides to the island of English, and they try to urge me to come live in their hometowns.
I was told that the capital of the island was Literature City, and that there was a settlement called Culture Town, where the journalists of the island tended to live. There was also a theme park called Creative Writing Land somewhere in the middle of nowhere, with attractions like “Appropriating Shakespeare”, amongst other things. My attention was unexpectedly grasped by the vast, “dry” (the way Literature City inhabitants described it) desert named Linguistics. I’m planning on living there, and I’m inclined to explore every square inch (that’s right, American English, imperial system) of it.
To sum this up: Sorry, not sorry. I’m glad with this last year and I’m definitely too proud not to share it in such a cheesy fashion. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some studying to attend to as my final exam takes place this coming monday, after which I’m going to enjoy a well-deserved vacation. To all of those who have more classes, tests or deadlines after the 20th of June: Ha-ha! (I’m just kidding; good luck with everything, and enjoy your summer.)
Written by Daan Jordens