Coming-of-age is an opinion column where Ateneans share their thoughts on a specific topic that fits Vantage’s beats. From in-depth analyses of TV series to miscellaneous musings in music (and everything in between), this is a space to spread and inspire thought-provoking ideas.
In this piece, Vantage Magazine Staffer Percy explores what it means to be a “Jack of all trades, master of none,” or the idea of only managing average at whatever you do.
WHEN I entered college, every introduction was naturally attached with my degree. I would always receive the same question: “Why Interdisciplinary Studies? Is it because you don’t know what you want to do in the future?”
Well, yes.
Putting the stereotype aside, I chose my program not due to a lack of interest in anything, but because I’m passionate about too many things. If you asked me that question, there’s a chance I’d tell you, “If I could pursue everything, I would.”
Until now, I feel the same way. The humanities has always been my home. Growing up, all my free time was spent drawing and painting. Creative writing did not come as naturally, but it was fun to explore as I grew older. Meanwhile, theater and music have been constants since I was young, but I never considered pursuing them seriously until further exposure. Simply put, I cannot possibly imagine living without any of them.
I fall in love with more disciplines the older I get—like film studies and even programming—changing who I am, and consequently the way I see and interact with the world. The urge to learn and explore unfamiliar subjects gives me a kind of excitement incomparable to anything else in my life. The world is filled with so much knowledge, and I yearn endlessly to understand all of it.
When I explained all of these thoughts to someone, they pointed out that I am a “jack of all trades, master of none.” Though I knew it was not meant as an insult, hearing that left a sour taste in my mouth. After all, doesn’t that suggest mediocrity in everything I do? That, perhaps, passion wouldn’t be enough to carry me anywhere worthy, because I’m “scattered”—no focus, no specialization, and no fixed direction to follow.
One of my biggest insecurities felt laid bare: while I practice everything, I’m an expert at nothing. Aside from not having a tailored resumé and portfolio for job hunting, it simply suggests that I have nothing truly good to offer. I don’t have any awards, I’m not outstanding in any particular craft, and I’m not known to be exceptional in a practice I care deeply about. Frankly, I have nothing to show for my interests.
Looking for a way to cope with my worries, I recalled a scene in the film Everything Everywhere All At Once (2022) that stuck with me since I first saw it. After glimpses into different alternate universes where the main character, Evelyn witnesses more successful, happier versions of herself, she resigns to the conviction that she has become nothing more than a failure. Her husband, however, tells her this: “But you, here… you’re capable of anything because you’re so bad at everything.”
In hindsight, it’s arguably a terrible thing to say, but the optimistic message of the film is clear: the lack of successes doesn’t mean failure; rather, it shows the opportunity for you to become more than what you are.
I much prefer this quote: “Jack of all trades, master of none, though oftentimes better than a master of one.”
Perhaps I have been wrongly holding shame for something that should be celebrated instead. Carrying too much should not be frowned upon. If not for curiosity and the desire to explore new things, nothing would change for the better.
After all, our lives will only be what we make of it. To earnestly engage with novelties and derive meaning from the smallest of actions can mean anything and everything. What matters then is to pour love into all that we do, and let our work change us in the same way that we shape it.