Challenging some black and white thinking

This month I applied to do a Bachelor of Arts at the University of Sydney, received the offer, and accepted it. Less than a week after gearing myself up to take on a new challenge, I realised that, deep down, I didn't want to do it. This same cycle of action has gone on at least four times. Today I'm thinking of exploring some of my black and white thinking about what it means to be at university, and how I can be more secure in my autodidact mode. 

Some thoughts I have that aren't serving me:

• I don’t want to give up my history of proud nonconformity
• A refusal to participate could hold me back from achieving my goals for self-improvement

And, let's take a look at the facts: 

I could, if I chose to, study Spanish or another language all on my own, using online or other free resources. I could also get a tutor if I decide it's worth it. (That tutor could be once a month, or twice a week. (It doesn't have to be overwhelming or very expensive.)) I could set myself goals, such as achieve 10/10 on the A1 exam by six months' time. Then take the A2 exam in another six months, and so on, until I reach C2. 

The above 'plan' shows that I have options to achieve the same goal (Fluent in Spanish, up to C2 level) on my own. So why the hysteria about joining academia?

I guess I believe that I will be more respected and taken seriously if I go through an undergraduate journey. But that shows me that I need to work on respecting *myself* and taking *myself* more seriously. Completing a Bachelor of Arts has no moral value. It is an option, and for many ongoing reasons, is proving not the be the best option for me. 

The role of experts

I consume a lot of media, everything from The Guardian to professional academic publications, to blogs and articles. They are almost always written by people who have gone through the university system. I feel left out. There is some resonance to my thought that 'bright and upwardly mobile people are expected to attend university'. 

These thoughts are there despite my parents having completely accepted that I won't be following the tertiary path. "You are educated already," they say. "If you want to take on a bit of work [as congruent with your abilities], talk to a career adviser." And it's true that I could just start submitting articles to publications.

But the other part of me is completely withdrawn from Australian society, and regards participation with suspicion. "Why would you want to take part in a society that systematically excludes and stifles you?" It feels like too big an assumption to make that the things that are most meaningful to me will be meaningful to others.

But could I try? I could try to position myself as an expert, and find solid backing. I know how to present myself in a clear and convincing way. When I do make an effort to participate, people often get behind me. I move them. 

I can find reasons against participating - it's easy. But actually showing up for a worthy cause might just be worth the discomfort and ego sacrifice. Perhaps I can find a way to contribute in my own, meaningful way.  

Names, Cultures and Affinities

Late last evening, I had reason to look up the ethnic background of the host of SBS News, Ricardo Goncalves. I got more than I bargained for when I found an article he had written on the subject of reclaiming his Portuguese name, Ricardo, after many formative years of being referred to as Richard by his teachers and community. 

The article brought foremost to my mind the debate I've been having silently in my head for a while now - whether to change my name legally back to Maria, or keep going with Epiphanie. 

When I was presenting as Maria, inbuilt into the architecture of my name was the assumption, shared and recreated between my Slavic self and my Anglo-Saxon counterpart, that I did not quite share the same paradigm. 'Epiphanie' helped break down some of the walls people had built - or at least disoriented them long enough for me to assert belonging along with them. 

But this has also led to a sort of identity loss for me. Nothing is black and white, and what I gained in terms of opportunity and access to different kinds of Australians, I lost in terms of strengthening my cultural identity. 

I come from an old and proud culture, and its foundations give me strength, and a kind of multiplicity of belongings and semi-belongings that is unique to my immigrant experience. Yes, my history is sometimes a site of pain. There is often disrespect levelled by Anglo-Saxon Australia towards people from developing countries. But even as Maria, I would represent myself as novel, open, fresh. There is no reason to think changing my name back would have significant negative consequences.

But changing my name would allow other Bulgarians, Eastern Europeans, and immigrants, to find me. I crave the community of people with similar experiences, and my current name does not invite such conviviality. 

Faced with two good options, there is no right answer. Just a lot of questions. 

Will I change my name back to Maria?