How the hell do you manage having too many interests??? Another rant.

Every fracking day when I sadly open my eyes, I see a new vision. Now this new vision, for some, could be beautiful. Like wow, you have a new reason to live? Sign me the hell up. 

But what do you do when every single day your mind decides that you need to become an interior decorator or a marketing analyst? Ooo, a travel blogger, a DOCTOR? Harvey fucking Spectre? CARRIE BRADSHAW?? Who are you, ma’am?

Hell, I launched this blog to be this enigmatic figure with lots of hot takes and a sense of humour. But then life got real, and suddenly...radio silence. You haven’t heard from me because, honestly, this blog turned into just another fleeting hobby. And today? I’m only writing because I’m dodging my journalism readings. But at least this is a treat for you! Unfortunately not for my grades… 

I tried to come up with various topics to write about, so many that I got so exhausted. Plus, hello imposter syndrome, my best friend. I still do have it, actually. I don’t think I could ever deliver a piece as good as what I wrote about my stupid situationship dilemma (still recovering from that one btw, still single, and no one is ready to mingle). 

Anyway, coming back on topic—these daily life-altering visions are ruining my life and, well, keeping me away from self-actualisation. 

Let’s go a little back in time.

Summer 2024 was a very interesting period.

I always had a plan set—do a major in politics, get insane grades, graduate, get into an Ivy for law school, help whoever I can in whichever capacity I could, AND THEN yeah earn a shit tonne of money. I knew this would make my parents proud; I mean, of course, their daughter was going to be a lawyer; it would be so bloody cool.

But these plans got crushed pretty quickly as I finished my first year at university. 

To be bone-crushingly vulnerable with you, I always had a little voice somewhere at the back of my head, screaming at me constantly—Aanya, is this pursuit of law truly for you, or is it a way to wear a mask of competence, a shield against doubts? Are you looking for a path that feels right, or are you just trying to mould yourself into a version that everyone else applauds? Is this about your dream, or is it a performance for an audience that dictates your worth through their applause?

And in May I finally heard it.

Well, shit. I was never going to step foot in law school.

I was heartbroken, yet there was this strange surge of elation. It felt as though a 984 quadrillion-pound plate had finally been lifted off my shoulders. But still, the sting of heartbreak resonated louder and deeper than the fleeting relief of choosing myself for once. Lost in a confusing maze, I was too scared to confide in my parents. I didn't want to disappoint them. At all.

This fear of disappointing others stemmed from many places. That summer, every turn in the labyrinth of expectations showed a stark image of who I should have been, making the fear of disappointment cling to me viscerally. It was the fear of unravelling—of exposing the raw, unpolished truths hidden beneath the well-crafted façade that tradition had meticulously painted. For a woman, to voice a need, to claim a desire that was wholly her own, often felt like an act of defiance against the subtle yet pervasive pressures to remain composed, accommodating, and invisible. In choosing my path and seeking help, I grappled with the spectre of becoming less in the eyes of those I loved—less dutiful, less worthy, less of a woman.

I did not know what to do, yet the only thing I knew I had to do was get the hell out of my major.

 I had to make a plan really fucking quickly, or I would spiral.

This was a window for me to explore all the damn interests I had been cumulating in my little cookbook for years, and after rummaging for a whole month, I decided on fashion.

God, it had always been fashion.

Fashion business/journalism, to be exact; design was out of the picture because I can't even draw an apple for God's sake. 

I started to talk to people, my best friends who were in the field, randomly DM-ing influencers on Instagram (they hate me; NO ONE RESPONDED), and finally a college counsellor.

I was so fixed on fashion that I decided that I was going to opt out of my current university and transfer to another school. I had everything prepared; schools in Europe were still taking applications in the summer; life was looking beautiful, until the moment to submit my application. 

Everything was happening so fast, and I chickened out.

I realised—just because I found interstellar fucking insanely fantastic—I wasn't just going to become a NASA pilot and engineer, and the same applied to fashion. 

I was heavily intrigued by the field; I love everything about it. But I love politics too, SO MUCH. It felt like I was being pulled by two extreme ends with so much force that I was going to break. 

and well. Hello. Long story short, I changed my major.

Im so embarrassed of this change because what the hell do you mean that you went from politics to fashion to international relations? It's the same cycle and im slowly getting sick of it.

At this point, if you are looking for a happy ending, please stop reading; you're probably going to be disappointed.

Yet the problem still persists, and I am slowly losing my mind. 

I wish I could simply just make posts on LinkedIn about my new visions every day, rather than simply scrolling through what people are achieving every millisecond and feeling like an absolute failure. I am not jealous; I am just immensely hungry to find the right fit. 

For some reason, I blame social media. Yeah. Fuck social media. I know, I KNOW, I'm not supposed to look at a glimpse of someone’s life and want to die, but it is just so tempting. 

A day in the life of an intern at Pinterest.

A day in the life of an intern at fucking Vogue.

A day in the life of—FUCK YOU!!! I DON'T CARE!!!! LET ME BE!!!

Maybe, in reality, I just want to post a ‘day in the life’ vlog on TikTok,,, but we don't talk about it…

At the end of the day, my pursuit of being everything, all at once, stems from the want of being unique in a world where people are just mere reflections of one another. I want to be disgustingly over-educated. I want to be the master of all trades; I want to be in Italy sipping Aperol; I want to release the most life-altering film you will ever see and be the most insane writer at Vogue. Am I running out of time? And even if I did have the time, how would I ever have so much money to finance all of this??

I bloody HATE capitalism.

I want money rn.

In a world where I'm torn between being Harvey Specter in the courtroom, Carrie Bradshaw on the streets of New York, and Sylvia Plath in the quiet solitude of poetic introspection, I find myself navigating through these identities. It reminds me that the essence of truly living isn't about settling into one perfect fit but rather embracing the chaotic beauty of embodying all these elements. Perhaps the goal isn't to choose one life over another but to create a unique mosaic of experiences that represents the entirety of who I am.

Maybe what I’m really looking for is not to find the one right answer, but to allow myself the freedom to explore—to live out each of these visions without the pressure to pick a lane and stay in it. Maybe the real deal is to just keep swimming through this mess, to keep changing majors, dreams, and visions—whatever feels right at the moment.

So, here’s to being a work in progress in a world that worships the finished product. To maybe posting my own ‘day in the life’ without worrying about it fitting into a neat little narrative.