The Wild

Break is over, and the crunch resumes.  Unfortunately, in the nine days that we had off, I have had no reprieve.  I have already written about my over-stress, at least to some extent, so it isn't much use to restate that point here.  No, there is a new point to be made.

As I sweat over the mounds of unfinished and overdue work on my to-do list, I think back to a classwork schedule that I was given in AP English at the beginning of the semester.  If I remember correctly, Jon Krakauer's Into The Wild was marked to be read at some point this year.  Considering my present circumstances, I wish that the book was a higher priority.  From what I know of Christopher McCandless' travels, I can relate to him quite a bit.

McCandless was a very intelligent man.  He graduated from high school and university with high grades, at least enough to be noteworthy in light of his later actions.  He had a promising academic future, but he left it behind, along with $25,000 in college funds, his family, and his residence.  Inspired by author's such as Henry David Thoreau and Jack London, McCandless began traveling.  He kept minimal supplies, even abandoning his car to hitchhike.

I can only speculate, but I assume that McCandless abandoned what he had because he was feeling exactly what I'm feeling: doubt.  Tiredness.  Occasionally, even total apathy.  I can't help but feel that the $25,000 to be put toward college is worth less than $250 for gas and freedom.  I can't help but think that I'll enjoy a paycheck more than a scholarship.  I find myself wondering what, in the ten years that I've planned for future education, I could do in the wild.  I wonder what I would feel on my own.  More than anything, I wonder how it would feel to live without the constant fear that I could destroy years of my future with a single mistake.

Now, I wait for an answer to my questions.  I can't make a decision about something so monumental.  I have tens of thousands - maybe even hundreds of thousands - of dollars at stake.  I have the option to pursue a Doctoral degree.  Could I honestly throw that away because my motivation has died?  Will a decision make a difference?  If I can't get my shit together soon, it might not matter.  Those mistakes are looming overhead and I sit still with my mind paralyzed by the weight of that fear and guilt.  None of my teachers will except excuses for much longer, and neither will I.  It's crunch time, and I'm being crunched.

It's very common to fantasize about what one might do should they win the lottery.  I always that that I'd like to live in luxury, but I have recently fantasized something different.  If I had enough money to do whatever I wanted, I'd buy a small, efficient car.  I'd buy a modest house somewhere, just large enough to fit a library, where I could read until natural light failed and sleep prevailed.  I would get a job at a coffee house somewhere, where I could smile at the people I meet and wonder about their lives.  I would spend my days smiling, reading, and learning without the harsh stress of deadlines and busywork.  If I had the freedom to do whatever I wanted, I could make myself happy.

I envy Christopher McCandless' freedom, and his bravery to make the decision that he felt was right.  I wouldn't want my journey to end in such an untimely death, but the destination matters less than the journey.  I almost wonder if the journey, however short, is worth that cost: what use is a life lived unhappily?