Gap Year(s)…?
There’s something very agonizing at 17 about the phrase ‘after high school.’ It’s the very moment before life changes entirely and suddenly you have to move forward consciously. Whatever forward means. For most of my friends, it was moving away either for school or for better opportunities in general. And for some, the seemingly largest demographic at my suburban school, there was staying home and entering the workforce and taking classes at one of the myriads of local schools. I don’t exactly fit into any of these categories though. I was supposed to go away for school and leave America for some dream life abroad. Visit home with heightened sensibilities and appreciation for culture and hundreds of thousands of dollars worth in debt for my Art History degree. It was a life I latched onto very quickly that slipped from my fingers just as quickly. I may go into this someday but for now the subject at hand: where the hell do I fit?
At first, there was the rush savings plan. This plan ended as soon as it started, it's a disaster story and a caution tale that requires so much context that I will spare for now. Next was the gap year plan. The holy grail, the master plan designed to give me more time to figure things out. The only problem with this one was figuring out what the hell I wanted. I quickly grew too accustomed to the loose responsibilities and vast time and got stuck. There's nothing wrong with this plan per se and I even had a plan this time. I was taking action toward this debt-filled, pretentious future I felt destined for. It took about 3 months in for me to realize that part of the reason my first rush shavings plan fell flat and this would too was that I was chasing what I thought I should want.
Why did I even apply to school in Scotland and suddenly push all my dreams there when the big city was my dream? What was the point of doing a politics degree geared toward eventually going to law school when I had decided sophomore year I didn't want to study law? Who the hell is Alz and what the hell does she want?
It hit me suddenly. I was applying Rare Beauty’s Kind Words lip liner in the shade bold, my hair freshly blown out, and my wide eyes carefully monitoring my reflection when it dawned upon me that I may have been confused and lost in every aspect of my life, but I had always known who I was. I loved art and fashion and history. I love long words that I have no clue how to say out loud. I love having a vaguely pretentious taste as compared to my peers. Although not the sum of the brands I consume, I was certainly the sum of the thoughts I think. My interest and tastes had hardly changed in the last 8 years they had merely shifted. Obviously, I had outgrown my Wattpad-alpha-werewolf-one-direction-bad-boy reading list and my hypersexual-slut-is-the-new-girlboss phase, but I still loved a cliche romance book and red lip. So it occurred to me that I never needed to leave the country or get a degree to appease anyone. I had been upfront completely about who I was. I was unapologetic and unashamed of the things that made me, me.
Most importantly, I came to the conclusion that gap years were such a complete antithesis to the fabric of my entire being. I had never not taken classes. I was always learning something and starting the summer after 8th grade I had taken online classes every semester without fail. Perhaps it's why I felt the need to take a gap year. I’m still not completely sure about this. About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I was a student. Second, there was a part of me-and I didn’t know how potent that part might be-that thirsted for knowledge. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with academia. I physically cannot will myself to stop. I was never the greatest student, but I loved the structure of school, the constant stream of information, and the ability to take a class in practically anything that piqued my interest.
“About three things I was absolutely positive. First, I was a student. Second, there was a part of me—and I didn’t know how potent that part might be—that thirsted for knowledge. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with academia.”
Even the parts of school that I particularly despise I love because they are so unique to the experience of school. Foreigners literally think of our signature yellow school busses as mythical, they don’t believe the vast amount of subjects we have classes in for some reason, and they even question our lockers. America is such a distant fantasy land that even with the internet and globalization our schools from elementary all the way to our most prestigious universities can only truly be experienced in person.
TLDR: American schools aren’t real from the outside.
Still, there’s a part of me that wonders though what should I have done for my gap year. Should I measure up my gap semester to the experience of my wealthier peers? I didn’t run away to Europe, go on a road trip of the continental US, or move to a big city. Most days I didn’t even venture farther than my idyllic suburban neighborhood. Yet there’s a lot to be learned about yourself when you don’t let outside distractions shape your identity and your perceptions of yourself. With most of my friends off at school, I had a lot of alone time to reflect and ground myself.
It allowed me time to confront myself about the kind of person I wanted to be and what I needed to do to get where I want in life. It didn’t solve any of these problems overnight, I am still a terrible procrastinator and fashionably late everywhere, but it allowed me to see who I was when I wasn’t trying to put up an image for everyone. Maybe that’s the moral of this whole thing, maybe that’s why kids run off to Europe, go on road trips, and move to big cities. You can be anyone you want when no one knows or cares who you are; you can be who you truly are.
This is just the beginning for me though, the beginning of figuring out who Alz is going to be.
