Writer endeavors to make her existence worthwhile

Verbatim

Posted: Tuesday, January 15, 2008

There is so much pressure on teens to grow into respectable, decent and productive members of society. To me, all of the above words mean someone who is high-strung, narrow-minded and dependent on "making bank" or a six-digit income, at least.

We spend at least 12 years swimming through required curriculum and being told that we need to make something of ourselves, we are the future generation.

And although I'm a safely guarded student shielded by the Constitution and encouraged by bright, bristling minds to speak my opinions on what I care about, I don't mean to stretch the limits of that right into a channeled rant.

I can be hypocritical at times, especially when I say that my ultimate dream is to have an office, a desk and a couch.

I've come to realize, what makes me happiest is trying to figure out what other people are thinking. I've always been a patient listener, and when I was younger I would become so frustrated when no one would be able to listen to all of my words without interrupting or agreeing.

I felt I was so intelligent, so full of conversation-worthy information, the only people I wanted to talk with were adults. Of course I was no child prodigy, noticeably excelling at math or any kind of problem solving. Instead I channeled my thoughts into drawing pictures in a sketchbook and writing painstakingly edited book reports.

My grade school teachers joked that I would one day be famous for whatever talent I chose to use to my advantage, and I always jokingly agreed to buy them a mansion or a new car. Reminiscing makes me yearn for the fuzzy-edged safety of those loving elementary teachers and the hope they instilled in me, throughout the years leading me up to this point in my life, 16-years-old, thinking I know everything but knowing that I can't possibly know anything.

I've come to accept some hard facts of life. Some people will always be a disappointment, some never think anything is good enough, some people are hypocrites, and some people will mentally distance themselves from their surroundings, waiting for the day that they can live their own life on their own terms.

For me, my dream is to become a psychologist. I want to sit at a desk, bearing the weight of my scrawling documents and analysis on people's minds. I want a big, classic "shrink" couch I can lay on in between appointments. I want to listen to people's lives and understand what they feel. I want to be the person that helps try to make sense of things, maybe just by listening.

I want to go to Ireland and see all the green land. Even if it's just grass, I want to see it blowing in the wind underneath the gray sky across the ocean. I want to meet people.

Bring on the failures at life, the successful, the happy and unhappy alike, the drunkards, the brokenhearted and the existentialist philosophers.

I just want my life to be colorful, because I know in the end, our particles will give way to something greater, and I just want to be assured that my blip of an existence was worth it.

This article is the opinion of Sophia Taeschner. Taeschner is a junior at Skyview High School.



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