In high school, my freshman year health teacher had us do this assignment where we wrote down our goals for the future and sort of allocated our resources. Well, I knew what I wanted—how I flipped to being completely unsure of myself by junior/senior year has a lot to do with this. (Everything makes way more sense in hindsight.) I wanted to be a published author.

I specifically told my health teacher that I wanted to have my manuscript done by the end of the year and to send it off to literary agents. I believed in what I wrote, and I wanted to accomplish something.

I was fourteen, and my writing was horrendous. It’s really cute that I believed in myself that much, but it is an overload of confidence I’m embarrassed about, now. I was just finding my voice, forming my own opinions and discovering what I really enjoyed in life/what actually fascinated me—and not because my sister or friends were fascinated by it.

There’s no way I could’ve published that manuscript (that literally took me until last year to complete) and actually liked it.

I was growing so much. My writing seems to change every couple of weeks, still.

Mind you, this is entertaining the idea that someone would’ve actually picked up my strange novel in the first place—but if they had? I would’ve been completely embarrassed by it the rest of my life.

There is this pressure for us and all the younger generations to do something with ourselves as soon as possible. With the rise of child stars, remarkably talented children who go on world tours at 12 and have the fame and adoration of The Beatles, it’s hard to accept that you’re just sitting in a classroom, taking weekend trips to the mall with your friends and hanging out at the park.

There’s a couple of kids who were published by 12 or 13—I was already falling behind.

There were kids gaining fame on the Internet at 15 and 16. Nick Jonas was, what, like 5 when the Jonas Brothers recorded It’s About Time? There are lists upon lists of authors, artists, YouTubers, who’ve been recognized before the age of 23. It’s hard not to feel like you’re competing with other kids nowadays.

I’m not about to fall into a whole self-soothing spiel about “everything happening for a reason.” I’m not sure I believe that. I will say—and I hope this can apply to all of you that haven’t accomplished exactly what you thought you would’ve by now—that I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted when I was fourteen, sixteen, nineteen or even now. I’m constantly baffled by the parents exploiting their children for their talents and shrugging their shoulders, “It’s whatthey want to do.”

They’re, like, 10, Sharon. They can’t possibly know what they want.

What’s the rush, you guys? Like my dad always says when I get aggravated with how long college is taking to get through: We have the rest of our lives to work. He always encourages me to find solace in whatever I’m doing. I encourage you all to do the same.

Megan Keane is a senior English and psychology major. She can be reached at 581-2812 or at [email protected].