Stranger Danger

It's odd to hear someone flashing back to when s/he was in university, and from a similarly libral-directioned stage in life; it makes me anxious to figure out what the story is right this second, to choose my life path and choose it right to avoid any looking-back crises down the road. And while I realize this a a futile and juvenile fear, potentially stunting present growth in ironic anticipation of future stagnation, I have gleaned some pieces of wisdom from the search this anxiety inspired.

I have engaged several professors in mentoral roles, in the hopes that I may preempt any future 'grown up crises' by reliving theirs, so as not to become a 'looking back' girl myself, but rather someone able to move comfortably in the future from their grounded position in the past and present.

This is incredibly unrealistic.

Yet, I've been given some real gems, so far.

As I waited for Joanne outside of one of the only vegetarian restaurant on-campus (still trying to impress my ultimate role-model, the woman I hope to one day become 1/16th of), panic darted through my mind thinking she was so important and busy that she'd forgotten our lunch date set nearly three weeks prior. I called my boss, "Do you have to confirm on lunch dates? What's the cut-off - one month? Should I have sent her an emai- I should have sent her an email." "No, no, no," she cooed, "I'm sure she's just running late."

As it was a sunny day, I pulled out a cigarette and decided to make the best of the situation by leaning against the building looking bad-ass, smoking and reviewing the edits on a piece I was working on.

These, I thought, are the moments when I am truly grateful for cigarettes/cigarillos/whathaveyou, in that they give you the opportunity to appear as though you're doing something, ie. smoking, when in reality you're just getting stood up.

And just as I extinguished my smoke, Joanne crossed the street, remplis avec apologies for being so tardy. I waved my hand, made faces and said, "Nooo! Don't worry about it!"

And I meant it - I love this woman. She could take me on a guided tour of hell and I'd say 'Thank you!' (but, of course, she would never actually do that, which is also why I love her).

After a brief recounting of some poor sod she'd met on her last plane ride (going to meet his internet bride in China - "I hope his children are either greedy, or love him," she said, "because that poor bastard's gonna be broke and left for dead this side of two years."), we launched into my life questions.

I began to explain to her my agorophobia at having so many options open after graduation, and the accompanying anxiety marked by the need to have to first lay out the next seven years before making a decision about a summer job, my fall course-load, or a pair of dress-pants.

I told her my big three - journalism, publishing, teaching - and the most profound and eloquent advice proceeded to flow from her for the better part of an hour, during which time I sat quietly gazing at her, misty-eyed, enchanted, feverishly battling my desire to pull out the cassette recorder in my purse:

"You should change careers based on the option that you think you will be happy with for the next 1-3 years," she said. "Only ever plan that far in advance, no master plan needed.

"And choose it based on the skills it will require you to exercise to perform the job's daily tasks - if a job only gives you the chance to encounter or exercise your passion once every 6 months, that one opportunity will not be worth the 100-some days of tiny, precise torture til you get there."

I began thinking that this may be a bit idealistic, an option for those who perpetually have options; yet I suppose that just makes the main fulcrum on which this advice revolves 'keep your options open', something anyone considering a career choice or change should remember.

"I never planned my career," she said, "though in retrospect each move looks quite calculated. I merely chose the option that excited me, and that most closely matched not just what I was good at doing, but what I loved doing."

And she's absolutely fine now. She's set, in fact. One of the most saught-after lecturers in the world, an expert in various fields (though she says she did not choose these fields either, that they were merely areas that interested her and that she yearned to know more about, building up her knowledge slowly until she hears herself introduced as "Joanne, expert in the Charter" or "Joanne, a leading researcher in race-relations" and thinks 'Really? Huh.'), Joanne is just so fully in-touch with her passions and what she needs from an activity she'll spend the majority of her day doing that she's not afraid to demand what she needs from a position, and gets it.

And even though she has what I would call one of the most demanding, emotionally-draining jobs in the world, she's able to balance her rights-championing hard-ass self with this aura of 'I'll be fine-ness' and an ability to laugh that's contagious. And I start thinking, I will be fine. So I choose the wrong job, it's not a one-way street, I can have more than one career in my life, because what I like and what I think will make me happy now may not satisfy me in the same way five or ten years down the line. The only way I truly would not be happy would be if my choices neglected my current passions and favoured the projected feelings of this ten-years-later-stranger. If one puts those blinders on now, the rest of her life could be lived looking ahead, as one giant 'process', and will never be appreciated for its uncanny moments of being exactly where one wants to be (physically, emotionally, etc.) in that moment, of getting caught up in an achievement or an occurance merely for the feeling it gives one in that second, and not for how it will look on a resume.

These are the moments you'll look back on and love as a forty-something flasher-backer and, like a future crisis, their occurrance can't be scheduled.