Since I was a child I was writing and reading, and making up stories even before I knew how to write them down. I entered a high school for secretaries to learn to type fast enough so I can catch my thoughts (for my mother to think that I’m sensible enough to procure a sane career for myself was a bonus).
When it came time for me to choose a university I was already put off from pursuing a literature as a major. My brother entered there before me, and there they all were told on the first lecture that even though they came in to become writers, that won’t happen. They will become theoreticians not writers. My brother went and became a great theorists of literature and film, which was his main interest. I decided it wasn’t for me, I won’t go there to be discouraged.
As I pondered what to do nothing seemed to fit. I wasn’t skilled enough for arts and design, I was bad at learning things at heart and bad at repeating so acting was out of the window, and all the science was forfeit the moment I choose a secretary school (there I learned to type).
And then there was a philosophy.
I was good at that and it was fun, I thought it would be easy and it was, for me. Because philosophy represented part of me that was present since I can remember. Observing, making theories and examining possibilities was my idea of fun. Luckily that inclination towards theories came hand in hand with telling stories so I found people who found it entertaining. The ones who could talk for hours about an idea became my friends. But I wanted to see how theories look like without the friendly banter, without the coat of the story and a familiar example.
And I did. And it was fun because of all the thinking and discussing, but also dull. Dull as hell at times.
But I did it, I got my degree I became a professor of philosophy. What happened in the process? They convinced us we can’t be original thinkers, original philosophers. No one said it at any class but it was implied in everything we were thought.
You see original philosophers lived long ago, probably only in the ancient Greece, everything after was a repeat, a rehash. Well maybe the chosen few in meantime, but not after mid twenty century. Maybe philosophy died with Heidegger for all I know and everything since is just an analysis of what was realized before.
I never cared much for interpreting lines, or decoding complicated languages. I’m corny like that, I like to think of the world and connections. For that is maybe better my degree in sociology, but I’m not in love with statistics and large samples of groups.
I’m so bad at repeating numbers that my professor of statistics asked me to promise I won’t work with counting the money.
What I’m saying here? I’m stating against all advice about self promoting online that I suck at things. But luckily I’m not that easily discouraged. I still write, think, make up theories, dance, draw, sing and paint. And I still aren’t sure I won’t be an original thinker at one point of my life.
The life is long, the path is tricky and it has crossings, and every once in awhile I think of pursuing masters degree of philosophy, but then I think of acting and get sidetracked. But the main point that got me to philosophy still persist. I think of theories daily then wait out for them to prove and disprove themselves. For now it comes in handy in writing stories even in writing posts. What future will bring I won’t guess because I suck at that too. After all I did wrote a SciFi novel on the turn of the millennium and I did not predict any of technology that fell on us since, now i have to rewrite the whole damn thing and it took me ten years to find my way through it.
But that’s life for you. You never know what it has installed for you before you walk the path. I would say that even the things that turned out just how I envisioned them aren’t what I thought they’ll be, but the world doesn’t obey my mind nor what I think I should be. And I would say it’s best that way.