Senior year has finally rolled around, and I’m practically trembling in anticipatory dread. Life doesn’t end after the cap and gown—but it sure doesn’t feel that way. This is my last year before I’m thrown off the proverbial cliff, and despite my chattering jaw, I want to make the most of my last year here. The goals I harbor now are unlikely to be the same goals I’ll harbor at the end of the year: but whether or not I achieve them will show how my priorities have shifted over the year.
I want to grow exponentially in my theatrical endeavors.
December 2024: I started writing a full-length play. Its names cycled through “Beep Bop Story” (temporarily) to “Being Human,” and now “Android, Actually.” But no matter the denomination, I’ve drafted and redrafted and revised until I’ve reached the current product of 16k words. Whether my play is lucky enough to earn some scholarships, be produced at Westmont, or simply become a stepping stone in my writing journey,I’ve yet to see. But any way the wind blows, I want to work hard to make it become a reality.
My passion for theatre is not confined to writing scripts, however. I consider myself more of a performer than a playwright, in fact. Though I doubtlessly have a long way to go until I can even consider pursuing a career in this department, it’s something that I’m extremely passionate about. I want to improve my singing skills, particularly. And whether or not I improve enough to consider this career path? I’ve yet to see.
I want to read and write more—but this time, for fun.
I miss reading. I miss being able to profess to my wide-eyed 3rd grade class that I had read eight 100-page books just that last week. When I was younger, I was able to weave my own stories nearly effortlessly thanks to the hundreds of professionally-crafted novels I had read voraciously. Though I’ve been lucky enough to find time this year to write ~155k words for my own creative projects, the quality is arguably amateur. As they say, the only way to write is to read. And I’ve been someone who’s done a shameful lack of reading these last few years.
I want to get into a good college, yadda yadda yadda….
I can’t believe that the college process is starting in just three months. I don’t even have realistic degree ideas, how can you expect me to know what I’m going to do with the rest of my life? Wherever I end up, whether that be here in San Jose or off somewhere on the east coast, I hope that I’ll be happy. I hope that I’ll have some crazy senior trip planned with my best friends. I hope that I’ll be willing to throw myself at whatever I decide to do. I hope that I’ll have some idea of what’s going to happen to me next.