Since the 10th grade, my standard response to anyone asking what I wanted to be when I grew up was: “an architect”. It had taken the 15-year-old me the whole of 3 weeks to strategically correspond each of my interests to possible career paths and this, relatively short process, had pointed towards architecture. With all uncertainty removed; I had rejoiced at being handed a road map for the rest of my professional life. There were decisions to be made in the future but for the most part, I was convinced I knew what those decisions would be and at exactly what point I would have to make them.
21-year-old me is not as naïve. Three years into architecture school (and several breakdowns later), I have grown accustomed to my habitual existential crisis. “Am I right for this course? Will I even make a good architect? How is everyone else finding this so much easier than I am?” are thoughts I have before breakfast. Learning to fail seems to be a part of my architectural education, with no extra classes on why I should keep trying. The road map I had prepared six years ago got lost somewhere between my first disappointing review and my sixth one. Certainty slipped through my grasp and I am now left with an ever-growing bundle of questions.
In dealing with this uncertainty, my coping mechanism is reduced to seeking out alternate realities or as some would say, ‘Backup Careers’. A ritual developed by fellow students suffering from the post-review syndrome, ‘Backup Careers’ is an updated version of the infamously tricky “what do you want to be when you grow up?” quiz. Ideal for when things just do not seem to be working out, the ritual follows some simple rules:
- Age Group: Undergraduate to Unemployed
- Multiplayer: Make sure you exclude anyone that had a good review and is likely to disrupt the grim moment with a cheesy “I can’t imagine doing anything else”
- Bonus points for creativity: This might be the only time when ‘Food Tasting for McDonald’s is considered a viable alternate profession, make the most of it
- No follow up needed: Don’t worry, no one actually expects you to quit your degree to become a food taster for McDonald’s (irrespective of how tempting it may sound)
In my experience, a round of post-review ‘Backup Careers’ always leads me to the bittersweet realisation that I may have made my peace with the uncertainty that accompanies this degree. Being certain feels foreign now, like a restrictive burden I have not had to carry for years.
This staggering acceptance has been a slow, partly unintentional process. My attempts to collect all my ambitions under the single umbrella of a relatable profession have largely been unsuccessful. I will not lie, there are days when certainty visits me at work, brief moments of clarity that remind me of the joy of working through a plan and giving identity to a space. But the moment I err, doubt weaves its way back in and stations itself comfortably at the forefront of all my thoughts.
So how have I made room for a certain uncertainty?
As an architect (and a nerd), I cannot help employing a design analogy here. The process/product discussion is frequently brought up in design schools to highlight the relevance of the journey between the ‘unknown’ and the ‘known’. Those of us, who have toiled through this journey several times, know that it is not linear. The process of creating is iterative, uncertain, and sometimes (read mostly) feels like you are moving in circles. But at heart, it implies that being unsure does not equate to being lost. Rather, it equates to the process of being found.
A wise professor I encountered in a review once had said, “The more certain we are of the position of something, the less certain we are of its momentum”. At times I wonder if I had imagined him, but his words stick by me: there is no certainty in action, only before and after.
I’m still not sure if I’m going to be an architect, but I’m no longer in a rush to end the uncertainty with an impulsive answer. I’m learning to listen closely to the questions and doubts raised by my struggles and I’m learning what it means to be guided entirely by the process. And like some twisted joke played by the universe, it has made me a better architect.
