Aside from being completely surrounded by my damp clothes, I'm feeling pretty good right now. As of last Friday, I've finished a quarter of my term at HBA, and as much as I miss home, my friends, and my family, I think I've reached a point where I can confidently say that I'm both proud and glad that I made the decision to spent the summer studying Chinese.
At this point in my life, it's rather difficult to imagine where I'll been in five or ten years. I have yet to decide my major at Yale, and I can't say that I'm much closer to making that decision than I was a year ago, with my career at Yale fully in front of me. But that being said, I strongly believe that the major decisions I'm making (and have made) will have a large impact on my future. When I decided to apply for the Light Fellowship (which provided the funding for my study here in China), I wasn't even completely sure that I'd end up here. I can remember the day that some former Light Fellows came into our Chinese class last year and introduced us to the program. It had to have been within the first two months of school, and at that point my study of the Chinese language had barely begun. I had a hard time feeling certain that I'd stick with the language for the three required semesters, let alone pack my stuff up over the summer and head to China.
But here I am.
I don't really have any idea whether I'll ever master this language, or even if I do, whether I'll end up in a career where I can make use of the skills I'm learning right now. But ever since high school, I've always felt that in times of uncertainty, the best course of action is to keep as many doors open as possible.
In high school, I wrote an essay as part of my application for the Daily Herald's academic team. In essence, I wrote about how high school is like being thrown into a mansion with hundreds of rooms, these doors representing the multitude of academic, athletic, and extra-curricular opportunities. And during high school, you can open the doors to these rooms, peek in, and see what you think, but you can't go in - yet. Then I wrote how college is the time where you get to think about all the rooms you've looked into, and eventually you decide which room you want to live in (this representing the process of deciding on a major). As I stand right now, I'm still out in the hallway, I haven't quite decided which room is mine. But the advantage that I feel I've given myself - as a result of this summer in China and my other academic and extra-curricular decisions- is that I haven't shut any of the doors for good.
I suppose there are two schools of thought on this whole premise. There's my open-door policy, and there are those would say that keeping so many doors open leaves you vulnerable to over-extension and/or indecision. And at times, I can't help but think it might be easier to settle on something and stick with it, leaving all else behind. But as a rising college sophomore who still wants to learn more about economics, psychology, philosophy, international relations, China, and a host of other things, I don't think I'm quite ready. And as a 19-year-old who still loves to draw, paint, sing, play guitar, skateboard, and play video games, I just haven't made up my mind.
And I don't think there's anything wrong with that... do you?
In the next three years, I'll experience new classes and make new discoveries that will lead me to that decision, and I don't think there's any call for rushing the process. In the summer before my sophomore year of high school, I didn't know half the things I knew the day I stood before my classmates giving our graduation speech. And I have a hard time believing I won't feel the same way by the time I'm walking through Harkness Gate on my Yale graduation day.
But for now, I've got seven more weeks of learning Chinese to worry about. And for now, there's no point in having anything else but that in the front of my mind.
Existentially yours,
Jamey