As cliche as it sounds, "que sera, sera" is still the best answer I can come up with.
As the semester and the year draws to a close, I find myself with some free time to contemplate where I want to be and what I want to do next year. For most graduating seniors here, it's either going to grad school, in the US, or applying to a job, in the US. For me, the real decision I have to make is a different one.
My family, as well as Vietnamese friends and acquaintances, thinks the question is whether or not to stay in the US. It's right and wrong. The decision I have to make definitely involves whether or not I will be staying in the US, but the implication of my family's question is I will instead return to Vietnam. And, you know, settle down. And stuff.
To be honest, returning to Vietnam isn't something I've considered. My mother said it wouldn't take much for someone like me to get a high-paying job and be rich in Saigon; I think it's true, even with an economy with 18% inflation and more unemployment then ever. However, it's just not appealing to me. Neither is returning to Costa Rica or Canada. You see, there is this thing called wanderlust, and I have a rather severe case of it. With every passing day, my experience here feels like it's ending, and to me, subconsciously, it means it's time to move on. To a new place.
I don't really know how it feels to have continuity in life. Nowadays, I rarely interact with those who were my closest friends when I was 18; and when I was 18, I had no connection with the people I hung out with when I was 15. Nowadays, I order everything from Amazon with an Amazon Prime account. When I was 18, books written in English were sold in a mall half an hour bus ride away from my town in Costa Rica; when I was 15, I eagerly waited for the rare occasions I got an overnight train ride to Saigon, where I could go to a foreign language bookstore, not to buy, but to sit at a corner and read the high-priced books for free.
There is something about the borders of countries that make changes drastic. Moving from one country to another sometimes means having to spend days looking for an item, rather then changing your Amazon shipping address. Sometimes it means carrying a wifi finder around looking for an internet cafe because your 3G smartphone is useless without a 3G network. Sometimes it means being extremely polite to people a year older than you, rather then calling your professors by their first names. I have never really experienced a change in social group without a change in culture. I can't speak for most people, but when I move from one country to another, I feel that avoiding spending efforts on the previous social group is necessary. I don't deliberately distant myself from anyone, but I don't agonize over how to keep existing friendships.
Many bonds were broken in that process, but there are also bonds that stay strong despite the lack of interaction. It's those bonds that shine during the rare occasions of reunion. It's kind of funny, but I think of those friendships like maxed out social links in the Persona games: you don't really spend time with the person any more, but your closeness doesn't decrease. It fits me well because I have never been the type to cultivate friendships where we get to know each other personally. My friendships are "we enjoy spending quality time with each other," and that's just about enough.
It's not something to pity. I like changes. My only high school friend from Vietnam said that when she moved from Phan Rang to Saigon for college, she felt that it was a new beginning. It was her first time away from home alone.
When I moved, I felt that I was in control of my life, because it had always been my own decisions whether to move and which country to move to, and it is not a task easily accomplished. More importantly, however, when I moved, I felt that it was a better beginning. In an environment with new people, new customs, and new culture, it's amazing how achievable personal changes feel. The social drama that felt like The Most Important Thing In The World a few months ago just don't exist anymore. No one knew me. I wanted them to see me as a particular kind of person, different from -- and, in my mind, better than -- the person I used to be, so I started acting like it. To the new people, I had always been this kind of person. No one acted like they knew me. No one demanded an explanation. Personal changes started with demonstrating new virtues, not disproving prejudices.
And so, it's only natural that as the end of this phase of my life approaches, I feel the need to move to another country. I've learned a lot here, it's time to become better. It's time to see more. It is what I'm used to. When everyone around me is preparing for the same next destination, it's only natural that mine is elsewhere completely different. After all these years, it feels strange to be concerned about the same thing everyone else is concerned about. I tend to envision myself in Japan because that's where I've wanted to be for a long time, but I'll be just happy with any other country. It will be a new experience, and few things can excite me more than that.
But what about the US? I'm not particularly attached to the US as a country. I'm more attached to the people here, and this is where I had my first get-to-know-each-other-personally friendship, which, as I found out, is not that bad after all. I won't feel upset at all about staying here. Beside being curious about the world, I also want to be helpful. A fancy term would be to "save the world"; a more realistic term would be to "make a significant contribution." Staying here, to me, would mean that play time is over, let's start right away on that path.
This somehow has become a very important decision of my life. If I move once, I will definitely move twice, and more. It's all about exploring the world, enjoying changes, and increasing wisdom stats. Staying here is all about getting an early start in my mission of "making a significant contribution to the world". I'm aware that it's possible to explore the world and making contributions at the same time. However, staying and working here in the US is the path that will advance my goal of significant contributions the fastest.
As I've been thinking about this, I often remember something my father said. He visited me on my first day at MIT, and he told a professor, "this is the happiest day of my life." Even though ultimately, I know I get where I am today largely because of my initiatives and efforts, I don't forget that I carry my father's dream and years of hard work. He wants me to decide what is the best for me, and I think the most important thing he wants for me is happiness. And so I don't take it lightly. Many people I know, many of them friends, would dismiss such a motivation, thinking that it is wrong to be influenced by the wish of your parents. I disagree, and that to me sounds like the easy path out. When someone is so emotionally (beside financially) invested in me that the highlights of his life is my success, I don't think putting a lot of weight on my mundane happiness because of him is something too much to ask for.
I didn't really know, and I still don't know, what the right thing to do is. It's good to make options available, so I will attempt to pursue both in the next few months. Who knows, maybe I'll find out that I actually don't have a short-term choice after all, and it's hard to say where that will take me next.
