Hi. I haven't posted in while because I guess over the holidays, things went well, they were great even, with just a couple of 'down' days. But now I'm back at school and I'm in 6th form. (Last two years of school for non-UK people here).
I thought I was scared last year, when we were picking our IB subjects, but I was wrong. That was just a little fright compared to how I feel now that College and University Admissions Tutors are showing up daily. Now that University and Work and Job are used every other sentence. Don't get me wrong, I really want to go to Uni, I can't wait to get out of school, even if I'm a bit nervous.
What worries me, is I have no passions, no idea of what I want to do or where I want to go. This eternal debate plagues every single teenager at some point or other. Difference is, everyone here knows what they want to do and where they want to go - Doctors, Lawyers, Traders, Vets, Actors.... Harvard, MIT, Yale, Duke, Cambrige, Oxford, Bath, LSE.... That's all that's on anyone's mind right now. Chem Bio for the scientists. Physics Maths for engineers. Art for the architects.... And then there's me.
I've been telling everyone that I want to study physics/astrophysics/aeronautics at uni. My dream was to be an astronaut. I'm serious. I'm a 16 year old girl who wants to be a fighter pilot and an astronaut. Or so I thought. I think I never really wanted to become those things, I've just convinced myself of it by telling other people, hoping that I would be ok with it deep down (does that make sense?). But honestly, I don't know. I don't know what I enjoy. I really don't. Unless I have the wrong definition of "enjoy" or "not enjoy", I don't feel anything towards any of my subjects. I'm not PASSIONATE about anything.
After that long ramble, my question to you, adults on here, how/why/when did you know what you liked and what you wanted to do?
On a side note, some more history that's probably not too relevant but if you're interested....:
The following content has been hidden - Reason : not particularly relevant
When I was 7 I discovered the beautiful discipline that is horseriding. I lived in Russia when I began riding once a week. I rode for 3 years, almost 3 and a half, at the same stables, with the same coach and the same ponies. My coach was harsh, mean and evil, and to begin with, I hated her. She would yell at me, exhaust me, everything short of insults was hurled at me ("you're useless" is as bad as it got) but eventually, after about a year, I'd started to get better. My subconscious would make me comply to her rules before she had the time to notice the mistakes, I guess you could say my level was improving. I started doing more complex things, dressage figures, a little bit of jumping. After 2 and a half years, when I was 10, I was finally allowed my first ride on a horse. I don't remember it particularly vividly, but what I do remember is it being so much damn work. My legs were too short to wrap around the horse properly and I didn't have the strength required to push this horse along. But I had fun I guess. A lot of fun. And my coach had started yelling at me again, which had brought back so many memories, good and bad. And I left beaming from ear to ear. I even saw my coach smile as I got down. Whether she was laughing at me or whether it was something else, I will never know. But I'd never seen her smile before, so that, to me, was a good thing.
A few months later, I found out my dad was changing jobs and that we were moving to England. I was heart-broken. I didn't want to leave, as much as I had grown to dislike Moscow, I would have sacrificed everything to stay, just so that I wouldn't have to leave my stables. What really tore me appart was my penultimate riding lesson. One of the other coaches had commented to mine that she should have started training me for competitions long ago. It destroyed me to the point that I begged my parents to let me stay and live with my grandmother. But of course they would never leave their 11 year old daughter alone in a big scary city, even with family. So we left, leaving behind any hopes I'd had of becoming a professional rider.
This is one thing that I could never forgive my parents for. I know very well that the decision to leave wasn't up to them, but fate clearly didn't want me to be happy. I've never had a coach who's made me feel so complete ever since. I still enjoy being around horses, but I no longer get the kick I used to get out of it. If I could, I would go back and train, but it's too late, and my family don't have the means for me to have my own horse. being at boarding school doesn't help with the timetable, they're a huge lot of work and responsibility. I just can't help feeling like there's a part of me that's missing, that's still attached to the doors of my favourite pony's stall.