Diary entry: Friday 8 of april 2005

Today is really a beautiful day. The sun is shinning in a bright blue sky and after the cold of winter it's highly welcome. A small cool breeze is gently blowing sweet spring air around and near me a small bird is tirelessly repeating its litany. With the rumbling of the cars and the plane in the sky it makes a somewhat weird melody. Nature and human both musician.

Today is really a weird day. I feel good, really good. The kind of good that makes me want to do anything, that makes me think I can do everything I set my mind to. But...because there is always a but, there something on my mind as always. There's this question that's been plaguing me since...well since forever I think. For the moment, I'm at the university and yes I love it. How can I not love it? It's been a while since I've felt like i'm where I should be ...but I don't think I'm on the right program. I guess there's always two sides to everything...

I chose translation because I thought it was the right place for me, since I speak and write french and english perfectly. But with the few classes I got, I soon learned it wasn't for me. It is so boring! I took classes in history and I love it. I never thought I knew so little about virtually everything! But I'm 25 and I don't want to sit on my ass in university for I don't know how many years to eventually work in something related with History. If I'm honest with myself, learning about history is more a hobby than something I'd like to work in. And even better argument...I don't have to pay the amount of money I'm paying at the moment for learning history. Knowledge is in books!

I feel like there is 2 me. A me that wants a calm life, a sedated and calm job. A house, the kids...the whole nine yards...nothing special. And there is the other me...the me that don't want anything. No house, no kids, nothing to keep me rooted to a place. A me that wants to live, to see the world, to experience it, to live it. A me that wants to save it...or at least help, at least do something. I've always wanted to do my part, I've never wanted to ignore the suffering of others to build my happiness.

I can't remember in which book I've read this but it went more or less like this: It's when you're conscious of your freedom that you realise you have to power in you to do everything you want to. But you also realise that with your freedom also comes the knowledge of having to so something about that freedom. Freedom can be both a burden and...freedom.

I know it's all a question of choices but I always have this...doubt...this fright. I don't want to make a bad choice...but can a choice really be bad? Not if I want it to be bad, not if I choose to see it as a bad choice. But still, I'm afraid.