My favorite band is AJR: Adam, Jack and Ryan Met. Though their work sometimes falls under the pop culture radar, their lyrics always ring true to me. Specifically, the following excerpt from “The DJ is Crying for Help.”
“Now I don’t know what to do with myself / (Da-da-da-da-da-da-da) / You got older ’cause you’re good at life / I’m all seventeen at thirty-five / Now I don’t know if there’s anything else.”
(“The DJ is Crying for Help,” Track 8)
Why do these lyrics mean so much to me? After all, as a sophomore in high school, I’m two years from 17 and 20 from 35. Still, the beginning of this section, “Now I don’t know what to do with myself,” resonates with me.
Everything seemed straightforward through elementary and middle school; there was one way to do things and one path to follow: no expectations, no pressure. Now, despite having so much freedom in deciding my future, I feel confined: I don’t know who I want to be.
All my life, I was set on becoming a paleontologist. I loved dinosaurs and knew hundreds of their names. In seventh-grade, I was intrigued to learn that my science teacher had shared my dream of digging for fossils across the globe. However, she acknowledged that paleontology was extremely competitive, requiring years of higher education, and would not have been a good fit for her.
Doubt for my future washed over me, and I dug deeper, only to find sources dismissing paleontology as a “starving artist” career. Financial success and fame in paleontology require extreme dedication. For these reasons, I feared commitment.
“Who are we to wonder where we’re going? / Who am I to tell me who I am?”
(“Netflix Trip,” Track 11)
Aimless, I often wonder how much control I really have over my future. After all, the world is volatile, ever-changing and full of uncertainty. As a high schooler, I feel as if the success and contentment I’m chasing are not my own, but expectations set by others.
When I began freshman year, I found myself overwhelmed by choices, pressured to pursue hobbies, discover colleges and contemplate careers. I carefully planned my four year course schedule and stressed over my GPA, hoping to preserve all my options. But, in the end, what would I do with seemingly endless possibilities? I needed to focus and find a niche, something to excel at — something to do with myself.
I’ve tried many extracurriculars for the wrong reasons: not to inject passion or bring meaning to my work but to win. And when I inevitably didn’t, I felt stuck, frustrated by what I perceived as a lack of talent and effort.
However, I wasn’t missing skill, but drive and motivation. I found no enjoyment in doing things I thought I had to do. I don’t know what I want to do with myself because I’ve only known what I should want to do to succeed. But society’s success is defined only by achievement and validation; one can be successful but unfulfilled or be fulfilled but unsuccessful. I overstressed the former.
True success comes from actualizing your vision, not society’s. Our emphasis should be placed on fulfillment — on my love for dinosaurs rather than on financial opportunity; not on others’ standards but on the joy of your work.
I’m still discovering what I want to do, and I’m not sure I fully trust my judgment. But this El Estoque thing is pretty cool so far. I’ll take it from here.
