Eg-zi-STEN-shuh-liz-uhm

Once upon time, in a land far, far away, I was a Philosophy major. I didn’t wear a beret while smoking Gauloises and ranting against bourgeoisie indifference, but I did carry a card. The paper is nothing special, just the business card of a career advisor I had to meet in the first year of undergrad. On the rear of the card, I wrote a word, or rather my simplified pronunciation of the word: eg-zi-STEN-shuh-liz-uhm.

I don’t have time to explain existentialist philosophy here, but I looked at the card whenever I was feeling tired, or lazy, or indifferent. The key tenet I took away from existentialism was: just do it. Don’t think you can’t because you’re not that kind of person, or haven’t done it before, or won’t be good enough. Just do it.