Just a couple of hours ago, I think I may have found my calling.
I think I want to be in foreign affairs. It’s not an original calling but a genuine calling just the same.
For years, I’ve wondered blankly about what I really wanted to do in my life. I’ve wanted to be a writer, a comic book artist, a teacher, and of course, a rock star (like a sweet dream atop a heap of sour reality). But yeah, I’ve mostly wondered blankly at such desires. Something was always missing when I think of them, like not a single one of them was “it.” But this–this latest apple to fall on my black and blue head seems to be the real thing.
Curiously, there is this fresh, blossoming desire to learn and fiddle with things. I want to put the itchy tips of my fingers on whatever stuff that has to do with foreign affairs. I want to read and read and read and write and write and write. I want to drink this calling like a cold glass of bubbly cola.
Curiously, too, the point of it doesn’t even matter. But maybe that’s just me. I could definitely say I’m not doing it for some high ideal for the sake of something as large and pure as “humanity.” Call me cold-blooded but it doesn’t have to do with doing something significant for the world. The thing is, I just want to be in foreign affairs for the sake of experiencing it. I want a taste of it, like I want a taste of that Wendy’s Baconator that I still haven’t tried thanks to the f*cking price tag. Then I want my fill of it.
The feeling is awesome. It’s like finally seeing the long-pondered mystery over the hedge. My spirit is revived and I want to start on this journey right after I get up from my chair. I want the first person I meet on the street to ask me, “What are your plans?” And for the first time, I’d say without a doubt, “I’ll be in foreign affairs.”
Isn’t worrying about national histories, immigration, cultural differences, global issues and all that important stuff very interesting? I would say it’s definitely more interesting than drawing the front page of a comic book. Writing poems could beat my interest in it, but unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll get rich by weaving metaphors that only I could understand.
Of course, this calling may be the logical result of recent events. I lost my main job and was reduced to doing freelance writing where I don’t earn anything if I don’t work on anything (because that’s really the difference between salary and wage labor: the first one sometimes pays you to laze about). The tremendous amount of pressure of working for peanuts made me realize I needed something bigger than this — I wanted something bigger than this.
Then there’s the impending departure of Chemae to Canada. My powerlessness in stopping such an event from occurring made me realize how big and mighty the world is. I feel like a grain of sand in a beach that stretches from coast to coast. The world eats me alive and I want to bite back just to make it recognize that I was in it all the time.
Am I saying I want to be someone important?
Not really, but I do want to be more important. The most exciting part though is facing the challenges to achieve that goal. I’m after the thrill of the journey, not the destination, as they say.
The basic plan is to save, take an MA in International Studies, apply in the DFA, and then go from there to somewhere else. As I said, it’s not an original calling, but a genuine calling just the same.
Call my calling boring but I see myself pursuing it with drool all over my mouth. I think my directionless days are officially over.