gozzterLeave a Comment on On a scale of ten…

On a scale of ten…

Things have changed since I was a child -or maybe it’s just me who has changed. The worst thing you could do then was to admit to others -or yourself- that there was something that was not only beyond you, but likely always would be. You were supposed to want to excel -to be the best at whatever you attempted. But quite early on, I realized that, while I hadn’t a hope of coming anywhere close to being the best at something, I was likely nowhere near being the worst either. I settled for a comfortable mid-stadium seat on the Bell curve where I could watch other people sliding back and forth, other people fighting for a better score.

For years as I relaxed on that seat, I could judge the game from afar. As an unwatched member of the crowd, I blended in like a baby bear’s porridge to the taste of a Goldilocks’ tongue: not too hot, not too cold. I was simply another face in the stands, and that was good enough for me.

Over the years, though, I began to realize that no matter where I was, I sat alone. At some point I discovered that, unlike others, I simply didn’t care which seat I occupied. And I didn’t care what anybody thought about my choice either.

There is security in a shoal, I guess -but the anonymity is soulless; aimlessly wandering through life in a crowd is safe, but disorienting, unfulfilling. The need to blend in is tiring; the inability to wander off on your own without being noticed -or worse, criticized- is untenable. And the more modern concerns about where one fits on the societal spectrum is beyond me: I thought we were all unique… Perhaps I was wrong, however.

Eetu was a somebody who befriended me in my first year of university. For me at the time, the world seemed as exciting as an open book with mostly unread chapters. I found myself pulled in many directions but Eetu was only interested in Engineering so he could join his father’s company back in Finland. He couldn’t understand my unwillingness to choose a steady path for my life.

“You have to have a goal, G!” he kept telling me. “Otherwise you’re just wasting your time here…” he would add, and then sigh at my obviously lackadaisical attitude. “I’m reading every book I can find on Engineering so I’ll be ready for the courses I’ll be taking.”

Not to be outdone, I would sigh, too. “I’m reading, Eetu… Reading about everything that interests me -but mainly so I’ll know what courses to take.” It was a constant argument we had in those first few years and every so often when we met for coffee he’d ask me if I’d decided what I wanted to do yet.

Usually, I’d tease him with a recent passion. “I’m not sure, but I’m kind of leaning towards Philosophy nowadays… although so far I’ve been taking a fair number of biology courses as well. What do you think?” But I knew what he thought: he thought I should make up my mind.

“You’re going to end up with a general degree that gets you nowhere, G. You’re going to end up an outlier, you know. There’ll be no job openings, no opportunities for advancement; you’ll just end up smoking pot in some lonely boarding house on the edge of town…” I think his father had warned him about that.

He said almost the same thing every few months, and then shake his head in disbelief when he realized I still hadn’t made a decision about my life. But I could tell he was struggling with his choice. I don’t think he enjoyed Engineering as much as his father said he would. And, like me, he discovered he wasn’t very good at mathematics.

“I’m thinking of a career in writing,” I teased him once. “My brother was a journalist for a while…” I saw Eetu roll his eyes, so I finished the sentence: “Then he went back to university and became a town planner.”

“So what are you going to do with your three years of weird courses?” he finally asked with a despairing tone. “Let’s see if I can remember them all. “There was botany, zoology, Philosophy, Psychology, English Literature… Oh, and didn’t you take Physics for one semester?”

I nodded, smiling at his list. “You forgot Biochemistry…”

He shrugged as if he’d still done a pretty good job of remembering.

“Oh yes, and don’t forget that course I took in Comparative Religions… I loved that one.”

He shrugged. “You’re almost off the spectrum, G. You’re certainly not at Bell-center anyway.” Then he began shuffling his feet like he did whenever he was embarrassed to confess something. “I sometimes wonder if I should have taken more of a mixture, as well, though…”

I was surprised at that. “There’s still time, isn’t there? I had no idea what courses they required for Engineering, but I assumed his professors would appreciate students who were more widely read.

He shrugged. “I think I’ve made my bed already, G.”

“Mine is still rumpled; I hate making beds,” I chuckled at his metaphor. “But, you know I think I’ve finally decided what I’m going to do after taking all those courses…”

That got his attention. “You going to teach, or something?”

I shook my head. “Medicine…”

His eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped open. “What…?”

I shrugged. “No idea why anybody would want me, but I’m going for an interview this summer at Western. I kind of like the idea, actually…”

He suddenly looked sad, although he tried to smile for me.

I patted him on the shoulder. “Why don’t you apply? I mean if they take me, you’ll be a shoe in, don’t you think?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’m smart enough, G…”

I have to say I hadn’t given any thought as to whether either of us were ‘smart enough’, but like all the other courses, I thought I’d give it a try. “Come on Eetu; nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh?”

He shook his head. “My father would be disappointed. He wanted me to carry on in his firm.” He thought about that for a moment. “Isn’t there an expectation in your family that you’ll carry on with its tradition?”

“My father works as an accountant for the railway and I’m not sure he likes his job. My mother was a teacher before my brother and I came along and I’m pretty sure she didn’t figure either of us would make very good teachers.” I tried to keep my eyes from twinkling. “I think they’d both be happier with me as a Doctor than as a Philosopher, though.”

I don’t think Eetu felt he had my freedom to choose, however. He knew where he was expected to sit on the scale and unlike me, his number had already been assigned…

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