I don’t know. I’ve pretty much decided to give my life to the world as a vessel for the greater good – whatever that may be, it’s 6am and I’m feeling dramatic – and become a harbinger for positive revolution and sundry via studying politics and international affairs, but I really really love fashion and design. Always have, always will. My love for pink is infamous but I’ve also been told by relative strangers how great my taste in fashion is and how I seem to have an artistic eye for these things.
I don’t really care about being modest right now. If I’ve given up the desire to be a fashion designer/stylist, I’m allowed to at least gush about my own brilliance with aesthetics. And it wasn’t really an easy choice to make – going into the field I’ve decided to go into was inevitable but it didn’t come without heartache. I spent my whole life convincing myself I was going to go into some or the other creative field, only to wake up one day and realize what I actually want to commit to is something much bigger than myself. And yet, even when you decide on one thing, your other passions surface and resurface, breaking through your decisiveness and making you sigh wistfully. My dad always wanted me to go into design but he’s pretty biased himself, seeing as how I got a lot of my creative impulses from him (I mean, for a guy who has degrees in computer science and business, he sure does love his couture).
But I guess that’s why when I find an outlet for my creativity, I latch onto it like a very pink, very feminine leech and sap it of its uses until I get bored. Dress up games, make up, sewing, Polyvore, fashion illustration, whatever. My urges towards fashion are violent – as any good passion ought to be – and they demand some kind of platform to serve as catharsis.
People always raise their eyebrows in surprise when I say no, I’m not going into fashion design, I’m actually going to study the stuff of dinner table debates. And although it makes a small, traitorous part of me long for what could have been, I also take a strange pleasure in it; the bows, the frills, the lace and the pink just add to the unassuming persona I want to cultivate.
And with that unsettling thought, I must sleep.
Sociology, my love-
I hope I have not offended you by turning my attention from you for but a few minutes. You need not worry – I’ll always come back to you – but I sincerely felt that this could not wait. I need you to know that I love you. Deeply. Unerringly. Irreparably. That I am willing to commit to spending my life in pursuit of the knowledge and insight you give me; that I want to spend everyday feeling the exhilaration and excitement I feel when I thumb through textbooks and scroll through articles and write testaments to your beauty in the form of sixteen mark essays; that you are easily my great love in life and that I feel there is no greater decision I have made – though it was a non-decision, really, a no-brainer – than ticking the “Sociology” option for my A Level subjects.
You lounge on the tip of my tongue, you, in all your manifestations as theories, names, perspectives, waiting to dive headfirst into any conversation I have because everything – everything – is so relevant to you. I marvel over you in long metro rides against the backdrop of music and dim, monotonous, crisp sounding announcements of what station is next.
You – my favorite subject, my future discipline, my life-long partner if you will it – light up my life. And maybe more than a love letter, this is a proposal – a request for you to accept me in holy academic matrimony, for now and forever, till death do us part.
Perhaps I go too far. I apologize. All I want is for you to know how much I love you – that I promise to be a faithful adherent of you as a student, as a life-long learner, and as a citizen of the world.
I should get back to you. I’d hate to keep you waiting.
Yours, in academia and in love,
Seriously. The whole idea of debating which discipline is more beneficial to society than the other is ridiculous. Why do you need such a debate to begin with? Do you genuinely believe you’re better than other people just because, say, you study biochemistry instead of art history? Or that you’re more “enlightened” than the rest of us because you have the sensitivity to study the Classics?
No one is better than the other, no matter what you study. So what if the sciences are a more practical and hands on discipline? We’d still be stuck in a dark ages state of mind if no one had the good sense to save all the manuscripts and designs drawn up so they could get rediscovered.
That said, my appreciation for the sciences won’t last long if people don’t shut up about my humanities subjects not requiring hard work. Try writing Sociology essays. Then we’ll talk.
That is to stay, stop nullifying other people’s hard work. Besides, it doesn’t matter what you study – we’re all stuck in the same crappy economy, science, commerce, art, whatever.