To Let Myself Go

hello to everyone, who still finds the time to read my scattered ramblings in these days of heat and stress and overwhelming global creations.

i will have to force myself to be quite straight forward with today’s daily prompt. and as much as i’d love to put some good effort and time into this post (much like with yesterday’s prompt, which i eventually skipped heavy-heartedly, for lack of time and thinking capacity), there won’t be no picture or poem or song lyrics. oh well; maybe i’ll quote a song, at least.

when i was ten, i went to fourth grade – like most kids my age.
.                         at home, i had lego bricks lying on the carpet and between my pillows.
.                         i had kept my barbies, although all i did was sew dresses for them.
.                         i loved to draw, mostly because i had detailed ideas, ready to be put down.
.                         i never quite excelled at maths, but once i understood, it felt pretty doable.
.                         i studied french. i felt grateful that memorizing vocabulary was effortless.

when i was ten, i got asked what i wanted to become, once i grew up. in hindsight, i wonder why adults confronted kids my age with those kinds of questions. were the answers not entirely irrelevant, when i hadn’t even known secondary education?
can kids even know what they want to become?

when someone knelt down before me and asked, i stuck with the activities i enjoyed.
.                                                                                i’d wanted to be an architect.
.                                                                                i’d wanted to be a designer.
.                                                                                i liked to study some more.
                                                                               i’d wanted to become an interpreter.
.                                                                                i had no clue. responses varied.

as ane brun sings so calmly: to let myself go / to let myself flow / is the only way of being / there’s no use telling me / there’s no use taking a step back from me

but time came, and we were all being reminded to steer a course. i felt lost. many things interested me, and some subjects at school, i thought real easy. unfortunately though, these two worlds rarely overlapped, leaving me with a choice between “challenging, but cool” and “safe, but not really”. i chose the challenge in my senior years at school, took a major course in chemistry and german and decided i was neither made for science engineering nor for journalism. (funny, how – in spite of this – i tend a blog, heh?)

today, i’m a student of economics, casually enjoying statistics and accounting. i have actually taken on a course, and even one my younger self would never have expected to take. does that mean, i have more of a clue than in elementary school? no, not really. but i figured that if i travel down one well-chosen road and won’t like where it’s heading, i can still call it off and take a turn, anytime. right?

true, i study economics, but.
i like to read in english and french books.
i write for the fun of it.
i draw and paint for the relief it sometimes brings.
i try to pick up every finish, swedish, arab and japanese vocabulary that crosses my way.
whenever i feel bold, i visit ikea and live my humble dreams of being a decorator.
i will one day learn how to sew quality dresses.

in a way, i’m free to do all i like.
so even today, i’m lost. but will this change?
is it ever going to matter, what i do for a living?

or any of us, really?

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One thought on “To Let Myself Go

  1. Pingback: Not there yet, but almost. | The Hempstead Man

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