My seventh grade teacher was well known in school for three things: being funny, being an aggressive floor hockey player, and for preaching that “life is all about choices”. When my twelve year old brain first heard this, it had not yet confronted a truly difficult choice and so it lacked the ability to understand what Mr. Brown was really trying to say.
At the time, I likely would have argued that choosing between laser tag or bowling for my birthday party was among life’s hardest problems, but I think a defining feature of youth is the relative absence of one way decisions. Such decisions are defined by having lasting and hard to reverse consequences, broadly fitting one of two categories, ones that are one way because they fundamentally change something (i.e. house renovations, laser eye surgery) or decisions that come at the opportunity cost of other paths. The latter type has become increasingly visible to me in recent years.
Through the ropes of choosing what to study, where to do so, and the other milestones of late teenhood, I’ve been aware that these decisions come at the expense of other ones but always felt there was a clear “best” choice. Decisions felt easy. That changed this past year as I neared the end of my undergraduate degree, unsure what should come next - my first crossroad in life. My university experience is far from unique (you can read more about it here) but at the time, I felt I was finally figuring out student life, balancing things better and finding greater fulfillment.
The pandemic suddenly halted that progression and I soon found myself back in my childhood bedroom reconciling the dissipation of that lifestyle as well as the looming cloud of graduation that was creeping closer. To delay any real decision, I simulataneously started applying for jobs as well as grad school, hoping that once again, a clear “best” choice would present itself. This would not be the case and I soon had a fantastic job offer and an admission to a prestigious European school, a dilemma born of privilege but a dilemma nonetheless.
I made countless pros and cons lists, talked to people both at the company and in the grad program, thought hard about what I want out of life and in the end, I couldn’t escape the feeling that I simply wasn’t ready to move on from this phase of life yet. It was a weird thing to consider, given the fact that I had worked multiple full time internships during my undergrad and had a pretty good idea that the “9-5 working life” was something that I could enjoy. I am one to give narrative structure and coherence to my life and through this, I had reduced the decision down to “am I ready to end the current student story and begin the next ‘fully grownup’ one”.
As time went on, I realized this assessment was not entirely accurate, the current saga was coming to an end, regardless of what choice I made. Grad school was likely not going to be the extension of my undergraduate experience that I hoped it would be and if that was my aim going into it, I would probably be wasting my time.
I romanticize undergrad as a congregation of eager young people grappling independence, having chance encounters, rapidly going through personal quests and developments, discovering the world, and having fun along the way. Not only is grad school much closer to a job than that, but something that defines that charming lens of university is precisely in its fleetingness.
As much as I’d like to continue “the good old days” until reaching a conclusion that I feel fully satisfied with, that pursuit is an endless endeavour. It’s tempting to fantasize about how things could have gone differently or what could have been if so and so happened, but much like how the negative space in a painting frames it, these unfilled branches define a journey’s path.
Under a more optimistic perspective, the idea of what could have been will almost always be more alluring than any realized outcome. Sometimes, it’s more poetic to avoid conclusive endings, rather leave doors slightly ajar, letting their motifs continue to faintly ring through the cracks. I’ve come to appreciate this philosophy in many things in life, what we often value most is not in endings but in the anticipation of one.
University might be a place that I can currently find fulfillment from but it wasn’t always that way. My freshman self struggled hard in my then new surroundings, resisting change and harboring a serious case of imposter syndrome. The development from then to now is one I’m proud of but it shouldn’t urge me to hold too tightly to where I am now. Rather, it should give me courage to step forward, knowing that I am able to identify what gives me a sense of purpose, seek it out, and create a lifestyle that feels meaningful.
University in many ways is a microcosm of wider society, just with more guardrails and a driving instructor sitting beside you. The road ahead is bumpier, foggier, scarier, and it will be tempting to look for an easy path to cruise control on. I have no doubt that at times, autopilot will win and that it will become increasingly difficult to maintain a firm grip on the driving wheel, pressing on with intention, but what better ideal is there to strive for in life?
With this in mind, I feel it is important to reflect on what parts of my university experience made it so meaningful, so that it can help inform what I fundamentally value and desire. The feeling of “progressing” towards something and its associated sense of anticipation seems increasingly vital as time goes by and I think school naturally enables this. There are classes you need to take in order to “unlock” more complex ones, there are weekly assignments that inch towards completing a course, and your degree title levels up as you finish the checklist of minors and specializations. It’s an almost gamified system with a short response loop resulting in the university years feeling so fast paced and even applies on a social scale.
For many, university marks the first major taste of independence and step towards forming one’s own life. New friends and social groups made up of other people in similar formative stages of life easily incite moments of intense emotion and deep bonding, rapidly accelerating the history of these connections. Clubs and societies are often structured in a way that rewards veteran members, encouraging member commitment and the intertwining of self identity within the group. All together, these incrementally “improving” components of student life form a lifestyle that easily has a sense of direction and by consequence, purpose. This is a powerful thing, satisfying a fundamental need in life, leading to an existential release and a feeling that “I am exactly where I need to be right now”. There is a strong sense of belonging to the systems and environment around you that is harder to find as the borders of life expand.
Another facet of student life that is often underappreciated is in its diversity of experience. When we’re younger, we are encouraged to try as much as we can and to find things that we are passionate about. As we age, the pressure to hyper specialize mounts and interests reduce to “hobbies” reserved for an hour or two on the weekends. University is a place where you can often learn about food systems, play in a jazz band, work on a mobile app, write an essay, and then practice a sport in a single day.
There’s a perpetual sense of anticipation with so much going on and that is exciting. Not to be done for the sake of a checkbox, but the pursuit of simultaneous passions undoubtedly adds more colour to life. I have also personally found through the balancing act of fighting to keep multiple passions in my life, I do not take their presence for granted and am then more thankful for what they give me.
Ultimately, beyond this deconstructed life of variety, progression, and anticipation, there is a type of feeling I hope to carry with me for the rest of my life. I’ve repeatedly struggled to articulate this feeling coherently so instead, I’ll describe some unremarkable scenes that evoke this emotion for me.
-
It’s late afternoon on a Friday, classes have ended, and there’s a party happening later at night that you’re really excited for. Campus still has a lot of foot traffic with people funneling out to go back home to the nearby student neighbourhoods. There are assignments to quickly submit, drinks to pick up, dinners to figure out, text messages to be sent, and drama to unfold. It’s going to be a good night.
-
The ceiling rumbles and there’s beeping noises, footsteps pacing back and forth. This is how most mornings go in the basement of a cheap student house shared with friends. Instant oatmeal is being prepared and backpacks are hastily being crammed with the too many items needed for the full day. Nobody really wants to be up at this hour but you do it so that you can have a buddy on the trek to campus.
-
The study group is working on some upcoming assignments together and as much as you enjoy the company while doing work, this is also secretly a bid for survival. There’s a crushing feeling that you’re somehow behind in every class and you’re going to need help to catch up. How did the semester get to this point? Pretty soon, it’s clear that everybody in the group has this same secret. On paper, this is not a good discovery but somehow, a weight feels like it’s been lifted. There’s no way the prof is going to fail all of us… right?
I’m thankful to have had a meaningful university experience, I know this is not the case for many. It has shown me characteristics of what a meaningful existence can look like and instilled the optimism to settle for no less in life. University is being okay with failure, boldly confident for success at the next opportunity just around the corner, perpetually on the precipice for something greater. A hopeful sentiment I aim to carry wherever I go next.
A year has passed. Due to the pandemic, convocation was delayed a year and in many ways, I like it better this way. Not everybody decided to come back for it, in fact, I’d estimate barely a third of our class did. For those that did, it was a special weekend to return to a world since passed. The university we experienced was as much a product of the people as it was the town itself and we had a unique opportunity to create that again, if only for a few days. I was curious at the time of graduation if the significance of this chapter of life would feel small in a year’s time and I left convocation with only increased conviction that yes, this time in my life mattered.
The extra year removed added intrigue to reconnecting with old familiar faces and hearing what they’d been up to, but more poignantly, it heightened a sense of regret and unlived alternate lives. When choices are fresh, their consequences still feel small, it is only through time that the disparity between decisions are realized. While we were in school, many of my peers and I were in similar places in life, having similar hopes, worries, challenges, and crossroads to face. Here we were just over a year later, a few decisions having now spread some of us metaphorically an ocean away and sometimes physically too. The concept of who my “peers” are becomes more vague with time.
I reconnected with some old acquaintances, ones that at one point in time could have become my close friends but diverging class and internship schedules stopped it from fully materializing. The match in personalities was still clear after all this time but the incompatibilities in life still existed with several time zones separating us. They say that good friendships can survive across oceans but what of friendships which never got to form? When it comes to the future, nothing’s for certain yet it remained a mournful moment, recogonizing the prime window for us to be part of each other’s lives has likely already passed.
With endless what if’s running through my head, I started thinking about all the current stones in my life I was leaving unturned. Life has a funny way of presenting opportunities and in that moment, I recognized an old classmate near me in line at the ceremony, one that I never got to know better in school but one that I wish I had. Seizing the moment, I started a conversation with them and we ended up carpooling together back to Toronto afterwards.
It was a pleasant drive, taking turns recounting where life had taken us since Waterloo and I was very inspired how successful they had become in their career. Although my observations earlier in the day on increasing life disparity over time conceptually holds true, through conversation, I was reminded that through all the changes to come, my peers and I will always be connected through this special shared experience and that we ended up back at this place and time together to celebrate that.
I got home that evening and sat out on my sixth floor balcony overlooking the busy lights and sounds of downtown Toronto, thinking about where my peers were at that current moment.
I thought about them dispersing back to wherever home was now, some at the airport, others still in the car back home, and maybe a few others also on their balconies deep in reflection.
I thought about all of us going back to work on Monday, resuming life where it had left off on Friday, being pulled in and out of Waterloo like a three day dream.
I thought about who I was in university and who I was not, the latter at times lingers like a false memory.
I thought about how the older you get, the more visible and prevalent the ghosts of your alternate lives become. It becomes easier to not just imagine but sometimes even encounter someone who could have been you. The path to the present can feel less like fulfilled destiny and more like a chance outcome.
I thought back to a year ago when I was writing the first half of this piece and how this first year out of school had gone. Had I followed my own guidance and seeked to fulfill my triad of a fulfilling life?
Although it has only been one year since finishing school, I have started to have this impending feeling of time running out. When I was younger, the borders of life expanded every month, every week, it was all too easy to dream an ambitious vision of my future self. Now that I’m at an age with the prospect of endless options but simultaneous opportunity cost, every crossroad feels more defining, more pivotal - I can’t help but wonder if I will ever reach that future self, if life will ever feel as big as it once seemed destined to become.
With time seemingly accelerating, there is growing anxiety over making the correct decisions, though such an objectively “correct” path is fictitious. Even so, life is made in the attempt to find it, to eagerly seek failure, to forever chase the phantom. Whether it be a memorable university journey or something else, when we have these experiences that develop our self understanding of what our individual “correct” path might resemble, we must have the self conviction to hold onto them. To use these meaningful moments as a compass, to help navigate all the crossroads to come on the foggy trail of life, to cherish them as lifelong gifts.