I was in Dublin for a couple of days last week after my initial trip to the Irish countryside town of Avoca was abruptly canceled. While I was there, I couldn’t pass up a visit to the Irish Museum of Modern Art, a beautiful museum situated in the southside of Dublin connected to a nice little hospital.

As I do in most modern and contemporary art museums, I wandered around like a child let into a toy store, completely, and entirely mesmerized by the various exhibits.

Needless to say, the entire experience was a pleasure, but the installation that I will never forget is one by the title of, “Coast-Lines.” It was, how many say, love at first sight, except in my case, it was love at first reading of the description. It begins: “Drawing on the paradox implicit in the word coastline-for never has a coast followed a linear course,” and that was the line that remained in my head for the rest of the day. It still is in my mind because I never stopped to think about the word “coastline.”

Partly because I’m not a fan of the sea, partly because “coastline,” is not a word in my everyday vernacular, but reading that introduction sent me into a spiral of thought, and I have not been out of it since. I could go on and on about the exhibits I saw, but I think, not only will it not do the art justice, it won’t do my thoughts justice either.

So this is not a recount of the exhibits I witnessed, although I will take the time to promote IMMA, and suggest that you should go visit it if you get the chance.

Rather, I find my life directly reflects the paradox of the coastline. Since when has my life, like the coast, followed a linear path? I suppose it would be easy if it did, but I find if I were to draw out a map of my life with all my initial plans, attempted plans, plans that have succeeded, and plans that are still in progress it would be a mess of lines and spirals.

Some vertical and horizontal, others diagonal, and some, just half-drawn shapes. No matter which way I draw it, I find, there is no linearity to it. Perhaps that’s natural, I mean, not many people follow a linear path in life, but I also happen to be someone who wants to explore everything.

The earliest vocation I remember wanting to pursue was meteorology. It was in first grade when I learned the word, “meteorologist,” and I thought it was the coolest profession ever. However, at the time I was terrified of thunder and dropped that plan real fast.

There were times I wanted to be a pilot, not just to be able to travel the sky, but to have that vantage. To be able to fly an airplane with the sky in front of my eyes, not to the side, or at a viewpoint where my head was turned. It was a desire, I never followed through with, but maybe someday I will.

The job I was stuck on for a long time was to become an archaeologist. I wanted nothing more than to travel the world discovering ancient artifacts and contributing to our understanding of history. Looking back, it was the job that I admired the most and was set on becoming, and quite frankly I don’t remember why I decided not to pursue it.

I believe it could be because at some point I wanted to be a neurologist, then I wanted to work with ALS patients, then I wanted to be a pediatrician, then at some point I abandoned the sciences and decided I wanted to pursue linguistics, and until senior year of high school that was the plan. Ketaki -- the linguistics major. However, senior year came around and the pressures of going to a STEM school that really gave no importance to the arts took its toll on me, and I decided that I, was going to be a dentist.

It was a solid plan, and at some point, I really thought my life was finally FINALLY following that secure, linear course that I had aspired to take. See, going to a high school that emphasizes linearity, while promoting “college readiness,” in itself to me seems like a paradox.

It was going great, and I was finally living up to the school’s, and to most of society’s expectations while simultaneously becoming unhappier and ill. Like most of my great decisions, deciding to pursue literature came to me spontaneously. It just felt right, and so I followed it, and just now, for a brief second I asked myself, “well, isn't this linear?” but no, it’s not.

To me, it’s not linear because despite having an end goal, like finding meaning in the installation at the art museum, I’m skipping from coastline to coastline. There are so many things yet for me to explore, and I finally accepted a medium that allows me to do so to my capabilities and inspires me to create. Wilde states, “Life imitates art, far more than art imitates life,” and I find that to be true in this case.