Dismal Crossroads

     **Journal Entry: December 7, 2023**

writing my blog

    As I put pen to paper, the weight of uncertainty lingers in the air, weaving a complex tapestry of choices, obligations, and aspirations.

    Being a third-year university student has proven to be anything but ordinary. Enrolled in a program demanding five days a week of restaurant/service industry work for the entirety of my eight-semester journey, I find myself at a crossroads that tests the limits of my endurance and determination.

    The initial allure of subsidized tuition fees led me down this arduous path, one that I didn't fully comprehend until after completing three years of vocational school—an intense chapter that, though tiring, I persevered through for the coveted high school diploma. Yet, the revelation that another four years of labor-intensive internship awaited me in university shattered the illusion of closure.

    A few months into the grind of restaurant work, I reached a breaking point. Faced with the choice of enduring the same path for the next four years or paying my way out, I chose the latter. It was a decision that ensured a measure of financial stability but simultaneously guaranteed my failure to secure the four-year bachelor's degree.

Drawing with my students

    My family's persistent refrain to "endure it" echoed in the background, a constant reminder of their desire for me to graduate at any cost. However, their inability to empathize with my disdain for restaurant labor bred a growing distrust, leaving us perpetually on different pages.

    Recently, a glimmer of opportunity surfaced—a chance to switch courses and escape the relentless cycle of internships. The dean's offer to help me transition into a normal Business major, liberating me from the five-day work week, presented itself as a lifeline. The catch: the tuition fee, no longer subsidized, soared to twice the current amount.

waking up, wanting to cease

    In this delicate balance between financial sufficiency and dreams of liberation, I find myself teetering on the edge. The fear of committing to the financial strain looms large, coupled with the uncertainty of whether I can sustain myself without the crutch of labor work. Seeking familial support is currently not an option, as our ideologies clash on both fronts—continuing the despised labor jobs or opting for the more expensive, labor-free path.

    The quest for foolproof entrepreneurial ideas becomes a silent wish, a desire for financial independence without the chains of time or place. The fear persists that the paths ahead will be tedious, with no safety net to catch me if I stumble.

bueberry is not as good as I thought

    Amidst this complexity, a bittersweet spot emerges—a semblance of stability contingent on securing my stay in this country. Going back to my homeland presents its own set of challenges—a lack of understanding from my parents and the absence of a home to return to.

silly cooking, in a last ditch attempt to save money

    As the pages of uncertainty turn, I grapple with these intertwined dilemmas, yearning for clarity, stability, and a path that aligns with my convictions.

Did I mention my intermittent esotropia is killing me?

Wishing for guidance and strength,

- Steven