A question of age

The last few months I have been wrestling with an age old question - what do i do with my life? Its been nestled in the back of my brain, rapping at the back door of my subconscious every so often. And every time it does a small part of me starts to hyperventilate.

I'm 24 after all. The hourglass for the first quarter of my life is almost empty and im going to have to flip it over again very soon. And then i'll be on the wrong side of 25. *shudder*.

When i was 18 and 19 or even 20 i used to look at 24 or 25 year olds and wonder why they weren't married. I always figured that by the time I hit 25 i would have it all figured out. My career, my life and be ready to be hitched and have a passel of babies. Boy, was i wrong. Not only do i feel completely unequipped to take care of a person other than myself , the thought itself fills me with the kind of horror normally reserved for road kill and maggot infestations.

But getting back to the point. 24 , a quarter of my life almost over, no direction, no goals and no calling. I would quit my job tomorrow if i had even a vague sense of what i wanted to do with my life. But because of my inborn risk aversion (curse it!) I wont take that plunge until ive found another risk less and (probably) boring job.

What i want from a job isnt much. It's what every one wants from their careers but what very few actually get. I want to like it. I never want to groan about Monday mornings. I want to want to stay late and never have a life outside work and be ok with it because work is just so satisfying.

A lot of people say that they will work at their current jobs for a while, save up money and then quit and do what they want to do with their lives. I think thats an utter load of crap. If you cant take risks and let it all hang out there in your 20's, when will you? When you're forty , have mouths to feed and a ton of responsibility? After a couple of years you get used to the security of having a regular paycheck and your dreams just fade away into the horizon.

The problem with Indians is that we always look for the conventional road. Even now, when i contemplate my own personal crossroads, one path leads towards the dull safety of my current job, one towards the safety(whether dull or not, I cannot speculate) of a masters and another towards the (probable) dull safety of another job. The last, however, is but a track, rough and rocky in parts. It leads towards the unknown, toward possible failure.

Failure! Every time i put a foot down that path a dozen hands reach to pull me back, my own fears not the least of them. I must shake them off. I know this, for my own happiness and my peace of mind. I must. But they whisper to me, these invisible hands... they undermine my hopes and my dreams. They plant insidious thoughts, creeping ike vines through my consciousness. Just a litle longer they say. Stay, but a little longer, on the broad path, the smooth path. And like the coward i am, I do.

I fear that i will stay forever