Was that it? Why did I think Computer Science was a good thing for me? I like it somewhat, and I'm good at it when I apply myself (and if I apply myself), but I keep finding myself thinking longingly of discussing literature and writing essays. But I don't go out of my way to look for things to program, and lately my eyes glaze over when I'm looking at things code related.
See, I'm sitting here wondering what I'm doing; it's been coalescing since the summer, but it's crystallised tonite. I know I fit in the computer science department, but is that what I should be doing? Is it enough to like and understand how computers work? I find it tedious at times. I think I'd rather be
doing things with computers than making them do things. I'd rather be doing
big things, like utilising a computer for art or writing. In many ways, it's “so long as it works.”
Yes, I find it interesting to discuss matters of UI and interface consistency with people. I want people to better understand computers of all kinds, not hate them, especially misunderstood ones — ie, Macintosh, linux. Their paradigms are really not different than one another.
But I keep coming back to my writing. I haven't written anything more than a few lines for myself in a long time — lines of fiction; lines that are anything other than blog entries or typed into the send field of an IM or an SMS — but writing comes naturally to me. It's as natural as speaking or thinking. Is this just because I have practise? Could I be as good at math or at programming as I seem to be at linguistics or writing? But even in this writing, I'm getting sloppy: essays are first-drafts, more often than not (though proofed whilst writing), yet professors consistently give me high marks on these papers though I feel as if they're all slapdash (it's never something to which I'll admit). Then again, these are not English or writing professors.
Back at PLU, I was reticent about being an English major because people would always ask me if I were intending to enter into teaching. My answer then was always an adamant “no,” but now I'm not so sure. My answer seems to have changed to “maybe” over time. And that heart of ink does still pump yet inside me. I've not given up that identity. I'll still proudly say, “I was an English major.”
I did talk to Josh about this sort of thing, and about chronic inability to sleep, about how I feel more motivated when I'm doing work that others count on, about motivations and stresses and life, and he told me that I need to put myself first (it's a hard task; I feel doing something like that is rather selfish). Talking with him usually makes me feel better; he's that sort of person. He also expressed the sentiment that he'll like me no matter what I do or what I choose; he is behind me, one hundred percent.