crazyclown94

You cannot have a life worth living without a purpose, and there's no teacher quite like experience.
Previously, I spent two terms at a residential university, Kennesaw State University, and promptly found myself on academic probation. Not from an intellectual inaptitude, no, more to an egotistical and motivational degree. Moreover, I still had the mentality of a child. How difficult it is to acknowledge something you've invariably had, and I had always been capable, or so I thought. But, you see, thirteen years of never once selecting a pen and paper for notes or studying a book opting instead for daydreaming or classroom diversions must take its toll and pay, I did.
Dropped off at my new dormitories, repeatedly questioned if I was worried, my feelings about leaving home, and this whole new experience awaiting me to which my response could only be indifference; I was not yet capable of recognizing those feelings within myself. So when I arrived, there was no route for me to take but to proceed as I always had; your path is singular when you have no purpose and not a hint of an idea as to why you're there.
In my classes, if I graced them with my presence, I slept or played around; perhaps I got away with these routines in high school, but in college, it wasn't enough to subsist. I wasn't supporting myself. I suppose they're called patterns because they repeat themselves and repeat they did. My behavior remained static; I became a walking mass of confusion who refused to acknowledge itself. Suffice to say; this was not healthy behavior. I left the university, and at that juncture, I gained nothing from my experience save a pile of debt and a school spirit t-shirt.
I undertook a psychosocial moratorium. I became surprisingly creative, discovering a multitude of solutions for life without a degree. Yet I never once asked myself what it was I desired. The best I ever felt about my ideas was, "That's something I could deal with." On my parent's suggestion, I secured a stint as a summer camp counselor, and while working there, I had ambitions for the first time in my life. I aspired to become a summer camp director, graciously living in the service of others. I began to reflect and behave in emotional terms with empathy, a stark contrast from my days of cold logic and machiavellian-esque thinking.
Upon completing the summer, I obtained a post as an outdoor education instructor; there, I discerned the folly of chasing joy. The necessity of having a career that fascinates you became glaringly obvious. I raised myself a proposition, "what do I want to do," a simple question that can only have a complicated answer. Introspection occurred, and research commenced. An intricate process, but subsequently, morals manifested and cultivated a set of principles. A transformation transpired; my arrogance abated as I profoundly transitioned from juvenile to one worthy of respect. I found a purpose, and my conclusion was one I could never have predicted; I continued my studies only this time armed with ambition and a desire to succeed.