By: David Sickels

I remember when I first heard about the Mayan prophesy.

I was 16 years old, a passenger in the sedan of one of my older high school friends. My friend was sort of a goof – he wore his hair in dreadlocks, listened to ska and reggae music almost exclusively and was, by his own definition, “a vegetarian who would also eat chicken.” He also loved prophecy and the supernatural.

I wasn’t about to buy into his doomsday story, but I can’t say I wasn’t a little intrigued.  It took just a few minutes of research to discover that this wasn’t just something my friend picked up in an online chat room. This was something that people believed in — a lot of people.

Suddenly the thought crossed my mind. What if this were actually true? I suppose this is how most people get sucked in. You don’t believe it until you realize that being a non-believer might put you in the minority, and all of a sudden you’re on the party planning committee for the end of the world.

I was still in high school, but I considered my college graduation date. I was supposed to graduate college in 2012, I figured out. I discovered I would only be 22 years old as the world fell from its high place in the galaxy to just another lifeless planet. It wasn’t too late to switch my focus to math and science and become an astronaut, I thought. I could escape to space and not have to live through the catastrophe the ancient peoples predicted.  But why even go to college if I’d only carry my degree for a few months anyway?  Plus, they really don’t let just anyone be an astronaut (I’ve checked).

And yet, I still went to college, and I didn’t turn my focus away from writing. I guess I figured it’s better to live life as something that I could control rather than live waiting for that which I can’t.