When I was a kid, I had fanciful dreams of being a princess when I “grew up.”
After finding out that there already existed a Princess Peach, I reluctantly switched and decided I wanted to be a horse trainer.
Now forward to the present, as I am reaching the brink of “growing up:” My selections have gone from horse trainer to painter, from pilot to veterinarian, from novelist to reporter.
Then it switched again ““ to a bureaucratic employee.
This summer, I have been interning in Washington, D.C., for the federal government agency primarily responsible for U.S. foreign development and international assistance. Taking a dip in the experimental pool, I wanted to try something new, something different.
I wanted change.
Since high school, I had wanted to be a reporter. But recently, I became curious, wanting to become a part of a political system I had come to observe and write about from a distance.
Before this summer, I had never owned a pair of close-toed heels. I didn’t have even a nice pair of black slacks or any collared shirts, for that matter.
Then the next thing you know, I’m sitting professionally dressed in a taxpayer-provided cubicle with a photo of Condoleezza Rice staring back at me.
So is this what “growing up” is like? Being contained within the routine box of a 9-to-5 lifestyle?
I have a sort of envy for people who wake up and can come to their box excited, with a genuine and fresh interest in their craft ““ mainly because I’m still trying to find mine.
Sure, I have passions and interests, but what I’m scared of is that a job I could have passion for now will one day transform into a monotonous assembly line, where the only purpose will be to pay the rent.
I’ve seen this from people I work with at my agency ““ where an idealism to work in foreign assistance and development can sometimes sink into the complexities of the bureaucratic quicksand.
On the other hand, there are other coworkers who admit that there are negatives. But they say that the positives from their jobs are enough to make it the kind they would do for free ““ the kind of job we all try and strive for.
But I don’t know what kind of job I’m trying to strive for ““ a reason I came to D.C., in hopes of filtering my options into a fanciful epiphany.
For not knowing what you want is a scary thing. It is an instability you hope to compress. You want to be confident. You want to be stable.
You try to convince yourself that change is good, though not knowing where change will take you can be terrifying.
But maybe that’s what makes change so exciting in the first place.
Before I came to D.C., I really didn’t know what to expect from my internship. But working here has been nothing but an amazing and positive experience.
OK, so I kinda, sorta, fell asleep in a couple of congressional hearings where I should have been promptly and attentively taking notes.
And I’m still waiting on that epiphany.
But in all honesty, here I am, in our nation’s capital, being educated by the people who help direct America’s foreign aid and international development policies.
And even though I fell asleep, being able to go to these hearings in the first place (and on a consistent basis) is pretty cool.
And this for me is a leap from my internship last summer, where my only amusing highlight was meeting Ben Stein and doing the Clear Eyes impression for the following week.
So here I am, on job option No. 522. I don’t know if I want to go into international relations or not. I don’t know if I want to go back to pursuing a print journalism career.
For all I know, I could end up a tattoo artist at a street parlor in Venice Beach.
But I’m narrowing in on what my interests are. I’m in a place where I enjoy what I’m learning and that’s a step forward.
Maybe there will be job option No. 523 and No. 524. Maybe there will be instability and change.
But you come to learn to embrace the uncertain. Maybe that’s “growing up.”
E-mail Indravudh if you think she could take on Princess Peach at pindravudh@media.ucla.edu. Bring it.