✖️ 2004 – 2015 — Wrong school
✖️ 2013 – 2015 — Wrong companies
✖️ 2015 – 2019 — Wrong BA
✖️ 2006 – 2019 — Wrong crushes
✖️ 2013 – present — Wrong habits
✖️ Always — Wrong attitude
✖️ Always — Wrong plans & wishes
I never really liked the school I was studying at. But at the same time, I mostly liked the process of studying. And perhaps if not for that particular shitty school and mostly indifferent teachers, I wouldn’t become so eager for self-education and so self-reliant.
The wrong people I’ve spent time with as a teenager only showed me how different I was from them, and these wrong people taught me to truly value and appreciate the right ones I still have.
When I was choosing a university, I made that choice with my emotions. For some reason, I really fell in love with that majestic tall building radiating knowledge (or at least I saw it that way back in some 5th form). I was very sure it was the right place to go. But what I couldn’t decide on was the department.
I wanted to become a journalist, but they had this “writing test” which honestly was what scared me off from applying for journalism. I hated the thought that someone will judge my writing and I always wanted to write the way I like, not the way I’m told, write in my own style, even if it’s bad sometimes (well, I’m not always good either).
So, it ended without having started: I was too afraid to start. The shot I decided to make was just going with what I could do best, and that was at the time English. Every day of the first month at the foreign languages department ended with me coming home and crying in the kitchen while talking to mum. The whole first semester I was planning to switch the department, but never did (hello again, cowardness).
Anyway, it was so not what I wanted and so far from the educational process I could enjoy. But I do enjoy learning a lot, and even though the uni killed all my desire to learn stuff for studies, I kept learning stuff I wanted just for myself. Bad French professors led me to finding a good one and loving French anyway (that was my second language of studies).
Hating my uni eventually led me to doing my best to escape. And I must say I’m quite good at escaping, as I managed to escape for one semester as an exchange student to a uni in a different country.
There I loved it. I had both bad and good professors, but the classes were mostly good, enlightening and inspiring to learn more. The people I’ve met during that time are amazing and also inspiring, and we are still friends regardless of the distance. I even had quite a crush there, but all my crushes end crashing down on me, so I’ll skip this part.
When I came back, I decided that Political Science is what my MA should be about. I’ve spent the exchange semester with two incredible girls studying Political Science and got truly inspired. After all, I could learn some more useful stuff and perhaps even become a journalist writing compelling articles on the global political developments. Not that I was into politics much at the time, but it seemed easier (read – not as scary) than my previous wanted-but-never-went-for-it (read – journalism).
In July I revoked my application to the Democracy & Governance MA in Estonia. I got admitted, but was put on a waiting list for the scholarship. And well, no scholarship – no studies, that was the plan. But being so close and failing was nonetheless painful. Again, when it hurts too much – I escape. This time I escaped the MA and took a gap year, which I’m still living through.
Now, I still smoke, still do high-degree alcohol, and swear sometimes.
But fuck it.
Do I regret something? Hm, I’d say I rather feel very re-grate-ful.
Sometimes (or all the time, who knows), wrong turns and roads lead to the right place. I feel that I’m exactly where I need to be now. Above all, I’m with the most mind-blowing, inspiring and weird people, just whom I need. And even though I have no idea where all this will lead me further, I know who I want to go with and know that…
…all the time in the world is ours