Last week during my first journalism class for the semester, my lecturer gave a somewhat colourful speech on what makes a successful journalist. She spoke of all the qualities one ought to have, the skills and objectivity that goes into becoming the very best of the best in the world of journalism. Her face seemed to glow as she explained the delight of her own career in the field. The whole time she was talking I sat there shaking my head because nowhere and I mean NOWHERE in that speech did she describe me. None of the many wonderful experiences she had were attractive to me.

After all of that I could finally admit (aloud) that I do not want to be a journalist when I grow up. It felt so good to say that, I was tempted to scream it off the roof tops.  However when the excitement of this confession to myself died down, I realised that although it felt good to say, this revelation left me in the middle of nowhere.

What now? 

I wish I could say to hell with my life plans. To pack my bags (mentally) and go anywhere the road takes me. To flow freely without the restrictions of plans, fear and responsibility. To take a walk on the wild side, something liberating like that. To let my hair down and run with the horses, but I am afraid. I need that safety net that comes with knowing. It doesnt really matter if what I know is true or false because it gives a sense of direction at least.

Today I am looking to be inspired. I am looking for a way forward.

Photographers: NguJaz & Seilatsatsi