Intellectual Autobiography

This is an archived essay, written in September 2015 but posted in January 2017.

In the Fall of 2015, I took IML 346: Methods in Digital Research. The course is intended to prepare Media Arts + Practice students for their upcoming senior thesis projects. At the time, I felt a bit disillusioned with my life direction. Our professor prompted us to write a brief autobiography related to our intellectual endeavors. I threw away the prompt, and I wrote from the soul.

How far I have come.

The only thing I know is that I know nothing. I’m confused and skeptical in regards to the person I am. I question my authenticity. I worry about the education I am receiving, the massive debt I am accruing, whether what I’m doing with my life is right for me. I think too much. I have a lot of ideas but a hard time getting them out of my head. I enjoy so many activities, yet I fear I am not learning any of them in depth. I like film, yet I’ve only worked on a film set as of this summer. I like digital media, but my Photoshop and Illustrator skills are nearly as untrained as my coding abilities. I like food, but my breakfast generally consists of a protein shake as I never have time to prepare a real meal. I like to read, but my list of books is insurmountable at my current turnover rate. I like learning, but at times I cannot stand the thought of school. When I start to delve deeper into activities, my interests seem to shift. I’m better at knowing what I don’t want to do rather than what I do want to do. My options are dwindling. I certainly do not aspire to be a "media artist." I will never be a top programmer, a web designer, a chef, an actor.

Or will I?

My ambitions are high, my capacity to do can be low. I’m told I’m good at so many things: writing, design, art, video editing. I don’t feel like I’m that good. I have many doubts about my future, what I’ll be good at doing. but ultimately, in looking back, I realize I’ve really done so much. I vacillate quickly between confidence and a lack thereof. If those who praise me are correct, I still haven’t accepted their words as true.

I love technology, but I hate technology. I am a hypocrite, a paradox. I critique others for their reliance on their phones, while simultaneously I spend more time on my phone than most people. I waste time on social media, and I meditate to cleanse myself of this. I have a hard time focusing on readings, but I hate to admit how easily a trashy Buzzfeed article can grab me.

I focus hard on what is important to me, whether it is relevant to my career or not. I am spiritual. I care deeply about my family, about people and relationships, especially those close to me. I feel spread thin between my parents, eight siblings, forty cousins and my college friends. I want them to be well, more so than I want myself to be well. I love to travel, and to escape my daily drudgery. I love to learn about realities different from mine, on which I usually reflect about my own. I reflect a little too much. I write about my life and experiences every single day in fits of self absorbed madness. I’ve digitally scribbled over 3000 pages since August 2012. I write about the good and the bad, in grammatically incorrect streams of consciousness and eloquently crafted essays. I can’t tell if I’m secretly hoping someone finds this mass of words after I die, or if I’d rather it be lost to time. Dust in the wind, bits in the Cloud.

I am obsessed with the idea of freedom. Of breaking out of the mold. I conform easily, but simultaneously I hate being homogenous. I tend to trust too easily, and not trust at all. I doubt others. I could have listened to what others told me: “you should lower your expectations," “you'll never get into a school like USC…” Had I not sent the university a letter about why their rejection was a bad decision, I would not be at USC. My friends told me I couldn’t take a gap year, travel abroad and explore the world before college. They were wrong. I don’t need to live my life in a straight line, according to the models of those who have gone before me. I don’t want to do things the same way as everyone else. In that sense, maybe I am just like everyone else.

I worry, but I will be successful at whatever it is I choose to do. I don’t need to know what I ultimately want in order to know I can be happy. I am deeply passionate about improving myself. I’m never going to perfect. But I’ve got a long way to go.

That’s one thing I know for sure, I’ve got a long way to go.