Two weeks ago, I had spring break. Instead of relaxing, I spent it fundraising for clients facing mid-month and end-of-month reporting deadlines. The work itself isn’t hard—it’s actually pretty mindless. But it’s emotionally draining in a way that lingers long after I close my laptop.

The longer I’m in school, the more I want to dive deep into something meaningful. I want to be poring over site plans, working on stuff with ArcGIS, and looking at building codes—not cranking out emails and texts begging people to part with their hard-earned money for politicians who barely pretend to care.

I’d rather be studying planning methods and urban geography than catering to the egos of donors and fundraiser hosts. Politics is a grind—soul-sucking, transactional, and often dominated by people who slap “Future President” in their bios without ever asking themselves why they want power in the first place.

Here’s the thing, though: Politics and urban planning aren’t separate worlds—they’re extremely intertwined. Every zoning law, transit project, and housing policy is shaped by the same political machine I find so exhausting. The difference is, I don’t want to be stuck on the side that just plays the game—I want to be on the side that builds something real. Something tangible, something that lasts.

As I push through the rest of this semester, I keep wondering: will I continue straddling these two worlds, or will I finally take the leap toward what truly excites me? There’s a certain security in staying where I am—fundraising pays well if you know the right people, and there will always be campaigns in need of someone to hit their numbers. But does financial stability outweigh the deep sense of fulfillment I get when I’m lost in a city map, imagining what could be?

For now, I’m still moving forward. I’ll help clients meet their goals, I’ll finish my assignments, and I’m continuing to stay open to whatever’s next. But I can feel the vibe shifting under my feet, slowly but surely. The first half of my first semester is in the books, and the second half might just bring me the clarity I need to keep going.