Well, we made it to the second post. Who’d have thought that?

It’s October 31st – Halloween (well, not really, I’m a couple of days late… but please bear with me). I want to talk about something scary: spiders, ghosts, clowns, ceramic dolls named Becky that look at you from the credenza on other side of the room. Or change. Change can be scary sometimes. It was scary when I dropped everything and moved to a foreign country six years ago. It was scary when I dropped everything and moved to another foreign country last October. It was scary two months ago when I dropped everything and moved to a third foreign country, this time on the (literal) other side of the world. Do you see a trend here? The trend lays in the word “was”. Each time, I was a little scared, a little anxious. But days went by, and things started changing. Either things were changing, or I was. I was adapting. That’s what we do. Human beings adapt. It might not be easy, but that shouldn’t keep you from trying new things. There it is. That’s my point. I found my point! “Fear shouldn’t keep you from trying new things”. That would look good on a poster, right? You know, under a silhouetted picture of someone climbing a mountain in front of a sunset backdrop. I think I would hang it next to the credenza, just next to Becky – Becky? Where are you?…

Meet Timmy…

There it is. You know what? I’ll tell you a story. Go get some popcorn, I’ll wait…

Ok, so —

— what’s that? Sweet popcorn? What kind of monster are you?!

Anyway, as I mentioned in last week’s post, I am 30 years old and until last year, I had no idea what I wanted to do when I grew up. Or, better yet, I had too many things I wanted to do when I grew up! Maybe I still don’t know… or at least, I’m not 100% sure. I’ve noticed this is something that afflicts a lot of people, especially younger generations. People just used to get a job as soon as they finished school or university and just kept it until retirement. Not anymore. Maybe because we have the luxury of choice, and we have more time to figure out what we actually want to do. But this luxury of choice comes with strings attached. Think about this scenario: little Timmy is about to finish his last year of high school and he has to choose what he wants to be when he grows up. It’s not that big of a deal, is it? Well, he will probably need to go to university, which will take between three and ten years of his life (ten, if he is unlucky enough to want to get a PhD). During this time, Timmy will need money to survive. Sure, he might be able to get a part time job, but that won’t be enough to cover rent, bills and food. Timmy will have two choices at that point: get in debt with student loans (good debt, sure, but HUGE debt) or ask his parents to contribute. Are our teenagers ready to commit so much time and (somebody else’s) money? But let’s say Timmy has always wanted to be a doctor. He knows with 100% certainty that medicine will be his career. What would happen if halfway through his second year of med school, Timmy went through a bit of an identity crisis? “I don’t want to be a doctor anymore, I want to write a series of children’s books about a moose and a fox who discover their friendship by travelling the world!” I’m sure many people had to face this conundrum: should I drop everything and follow a path that might lead to nowhere or should I stick with this, risking I might end up hating what I do? And here it comes: the pounding heart, shortness of breath, the intense discomfort. It’s a panic attack. Take this brown paper bag, Timmy – it’ll be alright. Apparently, if I dropped a stone on a university hall during a lecture, I’d have a 20% chance of hitting the head of someone who regrets their choice of University (and it would be over 60% if that was a History or Geography lecture: true story). This is an issue we should start talking about.

Use your time well

But let me go back to my original points: “change is scary” and “fear shouldn’t keep you from trying new things”. Timmy, if you want to write children’s books about a donkey and a hamster taking a magic ring to mountain doom (that was it, right?), just go ahead and try it. I’m not saying drop everything, but at least see if it’s a viable option. You might be able to get one year off university and, if you decided writing wasn’t your thing, you could come back with a refreshed perspective, knowing that you made the right choice. You could use this year for travelling, working a different job, spending time learning new skills or being a monk in Tibet. Your choice, as long as it’s something productive that will help you making a better choice. Use your time well. I will. By getting rid of something else scary in my life: Becky, the ceramic d — BECKY! Where did you get that knife!? No, nooo. NOOOOO!

Ok, that’s it from me. Let me know what you think!