Rushing to wait

It’s a rainy Sunday afternoon and I’ve just sat down at gate F61 with my newly bought (extortionately priced) writing pad, pen, bottle of water and yesterdays copy of The Times. I intend for these things to entertain me for the duration of the two and a half hour flight. My plan is to write down my thoughts (which fortunately I’ve got many of); otherwise my planned entertainment would be finished before this queue to the plane got moving. That’s the thing about airports- all the rush and hassle to get here two hours in advance, to then just sit and wait in departures, awkwardly catching the bored stares of an opposite stranger.

“Rushing to wait” seems to be fairly topical of my life’s current situation. Having just completed 14 years of school life, I feel I’ve constantly been rushing: rushing to meet homework deadlines, hurrying last minute exam revision, rushing to class. Woosh! Now I find myself embarking on a gap year where the full stop to my chapter of schooling has opened wide like a black pool of questions and doubts- what to do now? In the current climate of the Olympics, it is becoming clear to me that amazing things can be achieved as a result of hard work, determination and perhaps most importantly a clear goal... exactly what I lack. I’ve never had a solid vision of what I’ve been working towards; by narrowing my avenues, I’m scared of cutting out alternatives and limiting myself. Even now that I’m focused on journalism, yet another pool of questions opens: radio, TV, paper? What I really need is what I fear, one choice. At least that way I would have a little Olympic run of my own: narrow and focused. But surely life’s not as simple as an Olympic race- there are detours and shortcuts and departure lounges. Why should life be a race anyway? I’m not suggesting that this British cyclist Bradley Wiggins should put his bike down after 100 metres for an en route Starbucks, but it would be comforting to know that while I sit back on this Sunday afternoon to ponder my future, I wasn’t being disqualified from a career for time-wasting.

My Dad’s “get rich quick” theory of getting out of University as fast as I can and getting a job doesn’t appeal to me. He tells me I’m going to be one of those people who make a career out of studying, but (whilst I’d love to reap the benefits of permanent student discount) I don’t want to be the class mate who starts conversations with: “In my day…” So as this IS “my day”, I plan to milk education and work-experience and learning until I feel ready to jump aboard the first train carriage of my career- hoping of course to avoid a train wreck. His three points of worldly wisdom were given to me as we ascended the escalator two hours ago. Point one: “In life: always do what you want to do.” Point two: “Always take advice from people that you trust.” Point number three climaxed the trilogy of pocket-sized guidelines: “Never do something just because it is expected of you”. I reflected on this comment again as I paid for yesterdays Times, and curiously explored the notion that my Dad may have hit on something. Grandad reads The Times, therefore I sometimes do. But is this a result of doing what has become expected of me (Dad’s point number three), or taking advice from people I trust? (Dads point number two).

Having now settled on the plane, I may be closer to untangling the questions in my black pool. Even at 18 I’m still mentally a world away from my official “adult” title, so I do intend to heed advice from those older and wiser than myself. However, whatever choices I make, I will feel comfortable that I myself have made them. This of course will entail making my own mistakes too- but surely that’s better than making someone else’s? With regards to the “wiser”ness of adulthood, mine will be gained through life experience- not transferred to me from other people’s wishes, interests and values. Personally, I think I’ll soon be on the way to turning the black pool of questions into a golden pool of insight to share with others. My point number one: Don’t rush to the queue at departures; it won’t get you home sooner than me.