I thought I was gonna be an attorney, so I went to Dartmouth and

The words of Aisha Tyler, “I thought I was gonna be an attorney, so I went to Dartmouth and I was a government major and I minored in environmental policy, and I didn't do anything academically around the arts,” are the confession of a traveler who first walked one road, only to discover her destiny upon another. They speak of the winding paths of life, of how the plans we forge in the fire of youth are often reshaped by the hand of fate. In these words lies both humility and wonder—the acknowledgment that the human journey is not straight but curved, not fixed but alive with possibility.

The origin of this saying is rooted in Tyler’s own life, a life that began in pursuit of solemn study and public service, yet blossomed into the luminous realm of comedy, acting, and art. She believed herself destined for the courts of law, her mind sharpened by the discipline of government studies, her conscience guided by the care for the environment. But destiny whispered another call—one not found in textbooks or policy lectures, but in the laughter of audiences and the stories of performance. Thus, her words remind us: what we prepare for is not always what we are meant for.

This truth has echoed throughout history. Consider Marcus Aurelius, who never sought the purple robe of an emperor, but desired only the study of philosophy. Yet Rome demanded his leadership, and he became the Stoic ruler who guided an empire with wisdom. His early studies did not vanish; they became the foundation of his reign. So too with Tyler: though she studied law and policy, those disciplines gave her structure and vision, which later deepened her artistry. Life wastes nothing; every step, even those that seem detours, prepares the soul for its true path.

Tyler’s words also carry a warning against the rigid belief that our futures must match our earliest plans. The arts, though absent from her academic path, were not absent from her spirit. They were seeds lying dormant, waiting for the season of growth. How many souls lock themselves in cages of expectation, chasing professions that others have chosen for them, blind to the quiet callings of the heart? Her story is proof that destiny often waits beyond the borders of our formal studies, in the hidden desires we dare not name.

Yet let us not scorn the road of discipline. For what she learned in government and environmental policy still shaped her. These studies taught her rigor, endurance, and a sense of justice—all qualities that would enrich her art and her voice. Life is not wasted even when it turns. The farmer who first learns to build fences may later use that skill to construct homes. The soldier who learns silence in discipline may later use it to write poetry. In the weaving of fate, no thread is ever useless.

The lesson for us is radiant: walk boldly upon the road you choose, but do not cling so tightly that you cannot see when another road calls. Do not fear that years of study are wasted if your path changes, for wisdom once gained becomes the armor and treasure you carry into every new endeavor. What matters is not that the path is straight, but that the traveler walks with courage, curiosity, and faith.

Therefore, let each soul remember: the future is not a narrow corridor, but a vast plain with many paths. You may study law and become an artist; you may train in science and become a leader; you may work with soil and later write songs. The essence is not where you begin, but whether you dare to heed the quiet voice within when it calls you to turn.

So let Tyler’s words echo through the ages. “I thought I was gonna be an attorney…”—a beginning of duty and study. But life revealed another truth: that destiny is wider than our plans, and richer than our limited imagination. Let us then live boldly, ready to learn, ready to pivot, and ready to embrace the unexpected. For in the dance between preparation and surprise lies the beauty of the human journey.