Grant 1

Katherine Grant
Professor Salgat
ENG 111-24
November 24, 2014
No Rest for the Wicked
I have an undiagnosed pseudo-disease: ambition insomnia. It chronically wakes me
before the rumble of my alarm, releasing a mental storm of tasks for the upcoming day that I
cant wait to conquer. Just thinking about how each sunrise is another opportunity to excel is
exciting; I dont want to waste a moment. So as the sands of time trickle away, I have a hard time
believing that what I am accomplishing is relevant to an ultimate goal. For instance, why does
it seem like doing homework on a slow Sunday is insignificant in lifes big scheme? What does it
prove? Maybe Im not utilizing my waking hours productively enough, not truly drilling to the
core of what matters. Well, the truth has slowly come to light for me over the past twelve weeks.
My refusal to settle for any existential situation that is less than what I am capable of is a positive
omen for the future.
Despite having a nerdy affinity for physiology, the last paper I wrote flipped a vocational
switch. It was no bother to spill my brains about supplement usage in athletes, but following a
citation of one of my high school science teachers, unappealing memories of what is expected
from a biology student resurfaced. Dont get me wrongI devour work like a horse eats at a
trough. The volume of classes and labs required to simply be labeled Biology major seemed
unjust nevertheless. Yes, those courses are necessary to ones eventual career, yet what type of
job would I be qualified for once graduated? A melancholy feeling arrested me when imagining

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myself simply pacing up and down sickly halls in a hospital like Dr. Oz; the scrubs-centric
environment could grow depressing after a bit.
Obviously, there are more uplifted settings that accept Bio grads than health institutes.
Since childhood however, Ive felt as though the only viable academic avenue placed in my
perspective has involved the pursuit of science. Family members would drop anatomy charts into
my maturing hands, subscribe to ZooBooks, guide me along hikes at the Bay City State Park
and such grooming makes sense in retrospect. While parents pride themselves on raising
intellectually superior offspring, they often become obsessed with a singular field of study for
little Einstein. This narrow-mindedness contributes to practically deciding for their kids what line
of work they will pursue. Again, the research paper really struck a chord with me because it was
solely focused on biology, which was apparently my destined trade.
Now cue the melodramatic moment-of-epiphany-because-Ive-actually-made-adefinite/logical-choice music. The answer concerning what I could make of myself became
stupidly evident: WRITE FOR A LIVING (sorta)! All this time, I had numbly fed into the
biology route, going as far as writing a 2500-word essay on it. In the wake of referencing my old
John Glenn professor, the words of another educator from Glenns respective English department
broke through. You are a writer, specified Mrs. Kipfmiller matter-of-factly. She had only read
the first paper of my senior yearhow could an explicit statement like that be made? Then I
recalled her course on the whole, with another big turning point popping up mid-thought. A Time
to Kill, written by John Grisham, was assigned to the upperclassmen in her English section. It
definitely murdered my spare time, but the bright side was its strategic placement towards the

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end of May (which meant viewing the cinematographers version to, um, annihilate some
additional class periods).
I can still remember how Sandra Bullock was depicted as badass Ellen Roark, an
assistant lawyer, in the film. Her outfits demanded respect, her personality was strong like a shot
of vodka, and she could pen a deposition then deliver it without missing a beat. Confident.
Organized. Ready to verbally rip on her opposition. Dang! In my overly caffeinated mind on that
Sunday, I envisioned a career that asked more of me while simultaneously employing my
unappreciated BSingahem, writingtalents. It was a perfect solution.
In order to enter law school, a student must first complete his or her undergraduate
studies via any major. Fineexcept dont expect me to come out holding a lab coat in one hand,
certificate in the other. My bachelors degree will be in professional accounting; it also is a career
that stipulates additional schooling above whats obligatory (150 credit hours versus 124). The
lucrative advantages of achieving a BPA diploma equate to greater mobility in terms of jobs and
potential entrepreneurship of ones own firm. Regardless, Id be primed to advance to the
University of Michigan and become a lawyer in about three years with a solid acronym attached
to my name.
The takeaway for those considering higher education is that it is called higher for a
reason. Dont allow for complacency in your manageable sphere; if you genuinely have
motivation to go the extra academic mile, do it. The entire point of college is to wring out the
most you can from every course, instructor, and environment for your betterment. I realized my
potential early on at SVSU this way, and can attest to the importance of being in the moment.

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Despite partially stemming from the thought of each class costing me hundreds of dollars,
simply refusing to let instances of amelioration slip by drives me. Waste in all its forms is
despicable, with temporal being the most irksome of loss because of its permanence. When I
heard that law school was a three-year journey, I couldnt help but indulge in imagining the
possibilities. It honestly would be a waste if I let my rhetorical passion fade away! This leads to
Lesson Two for incoming freshmen: If you feel like youre sacrificing a natural knack, you
probably are.
Most of all, devote a gracious amount of time to your interests. Sure, we strive to earn big
bucks in society, but what if you have a hard-wired love for a lower-paying domain? Maybe
staying on a green turf would be a slice of heaven to you, but you understand the slim chance of
making it big. So what? Family will try swaying your thoughts to a realistic future, but its a
trite cycle of unconvincing persuasions. Ever hear Smokey the Bear preach Only you can
prevent wildfires? Yeah, well only you can light up a controlled path to mitigate a career crisis.
Tomorrow appears bright for me since mediocrity isnt permitted in my realm. Looking
objectively at my circumstances was the biggest favor I did for myself; it was mandatory
acknowledgement of how I had let past forces slyly pick my major for me. By the same token,
my past had dually dredged up an occupation that was blatantly fitting of my enthusiastic
personality. Oh, and the transition to college imparted a galaxy of fresh gateways that I had not
even previously contemplated. Im currently more confident and amped than ever before. This
cant be good for my beauty sleep, but who said insomnia was completely debilitating? It only
creates more hours in the day for me to achieve those ambitious whirling endeavors.