When I realized that my time in Japan would be ending, I thought I would be happy to never have to set foot in my Japanese classroom again; instead I was seized by a sense of panic about the future. As my friends in the states gently reminded me, spring semester of junior year is the time to search for summer internships. A thought which inevitably led to thoughts of graduation, entry-level jobs, career paths, etc, etc. Basically, life is about to get real real, real quick.
Since I’m not a STEM major, my choices of internship opportunities are already rather limited and limited even further by the fact that I lack very “marketable” skills like computer programming and graphic design. When it comes down to internships for Linguistics majors, the few that are available revolve around programming skills or research; if there’s a language requirement for the internship, it usually involves work in Spanish or Mandarin Chinese. Neither of which I speak (yet), by the way.
Ones requiring Japanese language skills staunchly call for someone of native or near-native fluency. From an employer’s perspective, this makes perfect sense, but for someone looking to improve their foreign language skills through an internship, it’s like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. At this level of Japanese, I need to be using the language as it will be spoken in the workplace (somewhere else practical) not stuck repeating after an instructor in a classroom or going on another whirlwind tour of Japan’s top tourist attractions. To get to a place where I can use my Japanese in the workforce, I first need experience, but no one will give you an opportunity if you’re not already at that level. It’s a vicious cycle, my friends.
So then I think, “oh great, did I just screw up my entire life by pursuing my passion?” Was everyone right when they said that arts and humanities majors will never find sustainable, well-paying jobs? Am I really going to be living in a box somewhere on the highway in the Alabama countryside, fighting off possums with a lacrosse stick I found in a recycling bin behind a local community college student union building? Relying on my own urine to keep me warm when it gets a little chilly at night? Exiled from home because my parents invested all this money in a college education for some slimy low-life who couldn’t even get a low-paying entry job if she begged?
It’s funny when you write it out like that, but that’s really what’s been swirling around in my head for the past few weeks and all the fear, anxiety, and doubt came a nasty head in the form of a spectacular panic attack.
Don’t freak out on me. I’m okay now, but having that panic attack resulted in a lot of self-reflection and discovery. One major problem is that I’m trying to control too much and I’m relying too much on me for everything; like a cheesy Facebook post, I’m here to tell you that by controlling everything yourself, you limit your experiences to your knowledge and understanding. And that’s such a small box to live in, y’all. No wonder I got claustrophobic. Whoever says you won’t be able to find a job doesn’t know the millions of jobs available out there, and even if your dream job doesn’t exist yet, doesn’t mean that it won’t. What’s keeping you from creating your own job, starting your own business or finding your own cause? And what if you technically don’t qualify for what you dream to do, whether it be because of your education, background, appearance, etc. It doesn’t mean you can’t get there. You never know what forces are working out there to your advantage or whose heart has been touched to help you get to where you want to be. While it is important to practice diligence, organization and put your best foot forward in everything, don’t limit yourself to the small work done by own two very human hands. Even that effort is not guaranteed to give you the result you want. Be open to the possibilities of things you haven’t thought of before, or the possibilities no one has thought of before. If you don’t believe in new possibilities, opportunities if we are not open to discovery, then is life even worth living?
And who said passion and financial stability are mutually exclusive? The very reasonable side of me says I should probably get some more marketable skills under my belt. It wouldn’t hurt to learn how to code so I could build my own website and do other cool flashy computer-related things. I might end up learning Spanish or French one day for traveling purposes, find out I have an interest and talent for it, and end up using it over the course of my career path. I’m going to use marketable skills to aid my own goals and talents, bring them into a 21st century reality. Blogging, website design, language education, some job that doesn’t have a name yet… who knows? The possibilities are endless.
The dreamer in me wants to dream, she wants to write and speak and prance in a field of her own flowery words. Despite what statistics tell her or what the world tells her, she wants to carry on, touch the hearts of thousands, she wants to inspire. As terrifying as it is and as dangerous and risky as it is, I will let her. If you would label me a fool for this, then indeed, I am a fool. A stupid, happy fool.