A room of my own

I have been browsing the sites of my good friends and felt that it’s only I who have not really made that much of a moving on. I have never made so much of a personal progress. I just turned twenty-two and felt that options are abounding. Nevertheless, I cannot seem to choose from any of the cacophony of choices set before me. It’s like all of a sudden, being young, idealistic, passionate, and capable made it even more difficult for me to decide on a path that I know, at this age, I must already be taking and a journey I must already be embarking on.

Young people

It’s possible that just like all the rest of the twenty-somethings, I am on this crossroad because the time that I am and the rest of my age-mates are living in now is just so mired of useless turns that give us nothing but confusion. Or probably, we are taking things too quickly and haphazardly thinking that success is measured by the speed we finish a certain task, or that our value as a person is dependent on the money we receive monthly, the network of influential and powerful people we managed create, or the comfortable lifestyle we have.

Surely, our parents and the rest of the older population experienced the same things that we do, but if it makes things less comforting–our time is different, more complex, harder. Because this world is getting smaller, we, the younger generation feel that the privacy, which is once afforded to our parents and the generations earlier than theirs, is now being taken away from us. We feel that the presence of so many options cloaks the fact that we never really get to choose, rather these options are predetermined and programmed, each with a set of near-infinite sub-options, that the world thinks are the viable next-steps.

In the long run, this process of choosing becomes limiting, and therefore tiring and choking. I’d rather speak in general terms here because I do not want my thoughts to be contained within sets of concrete examples that might alienate my readers.

We all must have a room of our own in order for us to really look deeper into ourselves and revisit the ideals we used to have or continue to hold on to. Virginia Woolf rather drown herself than for that room to be broken into and be disturbed in the middle of her fight against the inner demon inside her. Each of us must be vigilant as regards encroachment of our own room from the outside world; however, I am not saying here that we completely lock ourselves inside and bar anyone from entering. What I am saying here is that we should allow ourselves to enjoy that bursts of silence and try to ask ourselves relevant questions that the pre-programmed options set before us might not have considered. This luxury of queries of the ego to itself might provide us with hope in this restless world.