Annabel Romanos: I Just Don’t Know…

For some unknown reason, this semester has created a profound confusion in my almost adult-ish brain. Yes, I know exactly what I’m doing today, and I definitely know what I’m supposed to do tomorrow, but thinking about anything past that makes me nervous and restless. It somehow manages to suck all the purpose, ambition, and aspiration right out of me—ridiculous, considering I am a second year, living in catered accommodation, surrounded by people who are supportive and hopeful and more pleasant than they probably should be. I think that’s where the problem lies though. I can do anything.

On graduating high school, I had an oddly specific plan for my future. The middle piece of my incredibly overwrought yet beautifully cultivated agenda is irrelevant. But during the finale I would obviously be busy being appreciated for my immense screenwriting talent, with have throngs of fans following me everywhere I went. So many fans, in fact, that I would have to buy a little cottage on a mountain in the middle of nowhere and live there alone with my pet bird Rupert, refusing to come out of hiding to grace the public with my cinematic genius.  It was quite a plan.

Last year changed me. For one, Rupert died, so on a logistical level that plan didn’t work anymore (also my screenwriting prowess is far less than genius—but let’s ignore that fact). Secondly, waking up from a media-induced coma brought on by 18 years as a Los Angeles citizen opened my eyes to the fact that I don’t have to be widely appreciated to be happy. Being in St Andrews has made me realise that I don’t want that kind of recognition at all. I want to live in a flat in Edinburgh and hang out in cozy ‘lil coffee shops. I want to go see live folk music and watch stand-up comedy in dingy dive bars. And I want to hang out with people who laugh at all my jokes in a pub where the bartender knows my name. But yet again, ridiculous.

I know I need a new plan. At the very least I need to find something more practical than being a critically acclaimed screenwriter, or a person who just hangs out all the time. It’s tough stuff though.

As young, barely formed adults, we are expected to be making huge life decisions.  Of course, nothing is permanent and one decision about your professional future is certainly not going to destroy the entirety of your existence, but that does not mean it is not absolutely petrifying to know that you alone are in charge of how your life plays out. I mean, I chose to study social anthropology because of the TV show Bones. That is not how fully-functioning adults are supposed to make decisions.

As university students, we are surrounded by passion in all forms. Some people know exactly what to do with it, and that is fantastic. But for others it is overwhelming to exist in such an exceptional environment. What I’ve realised, through my weird pensive episodes that sometimes concern my flatmates, is that confusion is a good thing. Confusion means you care about the outcome. And at this point in life, maybe that’s enough.