Four years ago, around this time, I graduated from
High School. The vast majority of the people who graduated with me are currently finishing their last exams, hoping they did well and won't have to re-take any in September, getting ready to enter the world of independent, adult life. Work, a place of their own at some point, responsibility, things like that. Meanwhile, I've had all those things for about a year and a half now.
I've got a full-time, permanent job. I've got a place of my own. I pay my own bills. I manage my own money. I worry about debts, about what the &@#àç is going on with my landlord. I kick myself when I can't get up the discipline to keep my flat clean. I curse up a storm when stuff breaks. I do my own laundry. I get groceries, I watch my diet (er, a little), I work out to avoid back, knee and shoulder problems. I do all these things, because there isn't anyone else around to do them for me, or even just to remind me to do them.
And, you know, I manage okay. The first couple of months went horribly wrong, finance-wise, and I'm still paying off that debt to my parents, but I'm doing fine now. I manage to pay off that debt (and, um, it wasn't inconsiderable, I have to say) and still save a fair amount every month, and everything else works out, and I even have money to buy pretty clothes and go to Paris this autumn. I slack off on housework sometimes, but in general I keep my place clean. I am, to all intents and purposes, and independent adult.
Except I often don't feel like one. I often feel like any moment now, my alarm’s gonna go off and I'm gonna wake up in my bed at home, sixteen again, having to get ready for school, catch the bus, go to school, slack off for a few hours writing slash during boring lessons, pay attention in history or English, go home, rush through my homework, and settle down to watch TV or whatever.
I dunno, I guess it's just. Four years ago, I had all these dreams and expectations, and now I have completely different dreams and expectations, and I have all these accomplishments that I don't feel I really earned.
Four years ago, I was a shy, quiet, grey little mouse. I wrote painfully bad slash, which I put on a horridly designed website, hosted at geocities. I admired the hell out of a lot of people in slash fandom, such as Kate Bolin, listmum to the stars, and the mythical swans. Now, I'm an outspoken, opinionated goth girl. I write slash which, while not stellar, is still light years better than the crap I used to churn out, and hosted on my own domain. I own a domain which hosts about ten people, eight archives (of which three are pretty damn huge), and a plethora of oddball sites and projects. I can proudly say I started a list which is currently bigger than either of the multi-fandom slash lists I joined way back when, and another one that was (one of?) the first multi-fandom RPS lists ever. Almost all the people I used to admire so much have either left fandom, proven themselves to be much lesser people than I thought, or become acquaintances or even friends. I've had actual conversations with Kate, and have become an honorary swan.
I mean. I know that right now, I'm a lot ahead of most people my age, and I've gotten pretty far in fandom. (Further than I'd like, in some cases, but that's life, I guess.) But I can't help but fear that I've missed something. I know that if I'd hung in there and gone ahead with my translator studies, I'd still have two years to go before I'd be independent, and I'd never have been to NYC or to Wisconsin, or been to London even once, never would've met all but one of the online people I have, probably never would've gotten back in touch with Linz, more than probably never would've been able to afford to let femgeeks grow as much as it has, or to buy what pretty much amounts to a whole new wardrobe in fangirl stuff and goth gear.
On the other hand, I'd have a diploma. A diploma which would either tie me to one kind of job for the rest of my life, or which I'd do nothing with for the rest of my life after having effectively wasted four years of my life on it. But I'd also have almost four more years of carefreeness, and an actual taste of student life, and whatever.
I dunno. I guess when it comes down to it, I made a choice, I picked my path, and I'll have to live with that. But I'm still wondering if the grass isn't greener on the other side, if I really belong on this side.
And how's that for your crappy metaphor of the day, huh?
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