...

So, uh, I bombed my mocks. *scratches head* And I've taken the cowardly way out and have ignored my parents' calls and my guardian's calls as well. Though to be fair I WAS ill for the past few days. And I'm feeling that headache brewing behind my eyes again. Oh god. Now I'm feeling properly chastened with my tail between my legs. All I want to do is to curl up in bed with the curtains drawn and sleep for the next hundred years. The whole waking up with true love's first kiss is entirely not necessary. Optional, but not necessary.

I've only got slightly over a week left until the end of term when it will finally be the Easter holidays and yet I'm not completely looking forward to that. Who would, though? I've only got three weeks, then comes the last term and my exams. My first exam is no the 24th of May, and my final exam is on the 25th of June. I have 12 papers including those units that I'm resitting. After which I have a week before Leaver's Ball, which I'm still contemplating not going. If I DO go, I'll have to start looking around for dresses. It's a bigger deal than prom, after all. Leaver's Ball is THE biggest event of the year, and it's our final party together. It's going to be black tie. The theme is 'Secret Garden' and the school usually has a huge marquee and uses a large part of the school grounds as part of it. They hire professional decorators, and apparently we have a casino room and a complete free flow of champagne and huge fireworks show. And when CLC says huge, it means MASSIVE.

In a way, I'm looking forward to it, the end, the big bang of my five years. The end of the end. It draws my school years to a close, finally, and then I will make my way. I'll go to Malaysia for the majority of my GAP year, I'll work, I'll garner some sort of life experience. I'll hang out with old friends, strengthen ties that have weakened, hopefully. And I'll meet new people, findo out new things, gather new experiences. I'm looking forward to it. I'll need to apply to University, though. I'll also need to re-write my personal statement.

I'm also going through a little crisis, though. In regards to what I want to do in Uni. Am I so sure that I want to spend three years doing History of Art and Archaeology? Do I really? I thought I did, I do love the subject but with abject failure staring at me in the face, I can't help but flounder and question myself. Do I really know what I want? Am I really capable of it? And what the hell do I even know about archaeology? I don't want this to be some spur-of-the-moment decision that I know it kind of was. I don't want to go to University and panic in the face of realising that I've made the biggest mistake in my life. Do I really want to face that in my life? Do I really want to go to Uni for three years doing something that I will find out that I have absolutely no talent for, or I have no interest in therefore I'll just snooze through and fail and utterly have nothing in my life?

It's all been so easy for me, you see. All my life, I've always somehow managed to scrape through doing the absolute minimum and sometimes not even that. I've been told that I'm a bright child. Things come to me easily, especially when I'm interested in it. Especially when I was younger. Whatever I've REALLy wanted to get I've managed to obtain with little effort. I wanted to go to KTJ for boarding school; I got in. I wanted to go to the UK to study before PMR, even though my grades were shite; I got into every. single. school I applied for and did the entrance exams for. For three of those four schools, they offered to put me up in the upper grade, despite my abysmal mathematics scores (to be fair, I hadn't learnt how to do some of the stuff that was on the paper) because apparently my English scores were more than above average enough for all of them to comment on it in the report. ALL of them commented on my English paper. So I got in, rather breezily. And while I stumbled on some of the subjects, as people do, I never really FAILED at anything. Which is a miracle in itself.

I'll admit this, freely. I'm a lazy shite. Completely. It's my weakness which I wish I had the power to get over. It's the one thing that I regret most about myself, this inability to work and be driven. I have no goals, no ambition and looking around me at my friends, at some of my acquaintances and seeing them go for their goals, seeing them REACH their goals, I'm left with a feeling of utter inadequacy. Who am I to feel comfortable in my abilities, who am I for some to envy when I have others who KNOW what they want from life and are not afraid to take it with both hands?

All of my life, for as long as I can remember I had one dream. One goal, one ambition. It has sustained me, it has lasted despite whatever things that have gone on in my life. It is the one constant thing in my fluctuating life. It is not ephemeral, not in flux. It is the only solid thing that I allow or that I welcome. I'm afraid that it is also this which has some cause for my behaviour, for my actions, for how I am. I won't make any excuses, I know I'm inherently lazy. It's just the way things are. But somehow it is made worse with the fact that I DO actually know what I want to do in life, have known since the first time I picked up a book, since the first time I learnt to read, since the first time I picked up a pen or pencil and put it to paper: I want to write.

My dream, my life, my sustaining breath and my complete weakness. My writing. I've found myself thinking, sometimes, that the other things didn't matter. What need have I for mathematics, for science, for geography when I wanted to WRITE? What could that help me in my future career. The majority of what I have learnt, I've realised, is ultimately useless in my life, in what I want to do. They are furnishings. They are something there so I can in the future say: I have done it. They are not essential. And it is with that thought, I think, that I have allowed myself to do absolutely fuckall in my life.

My mother told me that she's noticed me scribbling for as long as she can remember. She told me that I picked up a book and started reading earlier than she expected, earlier than my siblings. That I started writing before them. My command of language was better. They constantly make fun of the things I used to say when I was young, like when I was four and I looked at them, angry, and said, and I quote, "I have two words for you: N-O!".

It makes me laugh, thinking about it now. But it also irritates me and embarrasses me because they just will NOT let it go. Some part of me realises that they only do this because it wasn't a mistake I allowed myself to make after they took the complete piss out of me for years to come, immediately. It's the weakness I won't allow myself. My command of English came quick and quickly as well it usurped my command of Malay. I've never questioned it, all my life even when I was aware of how difficult getting work was, how the percentage of employment from University was lowering etc etc etc, I never worried, never faltered. I knew what I wanted. I wanted to be a writer, more specifically, an author. A novelist. It was my dream. I didn't want to be a Nobel Price of Literature winner, I had no such large dreams in life. I would like to be famous, or infamous, but only within my field. I have no great ambition of becoming a celebrity, open to the public eye. I'm a private person, after all. Besides, people have often said that if not a writer, then I will be a hermit. It makes me laugh, now, thinking about how UN-hermit like I was when I was just slightly younger and I wonder now what has made things change, what is it that has made me feel slightly detached from society at times, though I do enjoy the occasional social gathering. What was it that made me so fiercely protective of my own privacy, of my independence. Well, quasi-independence anyway.

Recently, reality hit and it hit hard. It was not a matter of what I want to do, not a matter of me questioning my life's choices in terms of a career. No, that has always been constant, even when I realised that I could not make writing be my bread and butter. I appreciate finer living too much for that, so the question of finding an alternate "job" to do to pay for my ultimate career is something I've accepted for a few years now. No, it wasn't if I still wanted to be a writer. It was if I was good enough to be one.

When it comes to banking, to law, to medicine people look to that with respect. They don't believe that they all can do it. It's specialised, it's difficult. But with writing... well, everyone thinks they can write. And unfortunately, there are a large number of people who can do it well, and I am friends or acquaintances with quite a large group. I've known someone whose writing was infamous on the net for a few years, now she is published. I know a few others, actually. I know others who think of writing as nothing more than a hobby and yet they have the ability to move me incredibly with their command of language. It tears me apart, to know that I have this dream, this vision... and yet not know if I'm good enough, if I'll ever BE good enough to succeed.

Eh, enough. Introspection, introspection, angst, blah. I'm late for class. Again.

Introspection 101

It's the end of mock exams and I find myself feeling listless. I'm heading towards London after my drama lesson, a fact which annoys me greatly because I could've gone back yesterday if not for this lesson. I thought it prudent to attend, however, due to the fact that my exam is on the 16th, and I've barely remembered the lines as it is. It's a good script, though. Solid. And Ms. Mercati is really proving herself to be quite the director on this piece. However, I've known that for quite some time, now. After all, the woman has been my teacher for nearly five years.

Five years... has it really been that long since I left home, left KTJ, left Malaysia behind to face this, my new future? Has it really been that long since I've let go of my friends, of my previous "Malaysian" habits and embraced this culture? I spoke to Caz about just... life in general, what's expected of me in Malaysia and what she said... it rang so true yet never did it occur to me, but for the part of my mind I keep locked to all but myself. Sometimes. I play a dual role, in my life. Almost like I have Multiple Personality Disorder, in fact. I'm not the only one who does this, it is a fact that many change who they are according to different variables, such as location or the people they are with.

I... not only do I change myself to suit those I am with, but I change myself according to location as well. There is Malaysia!Me, and England!Me. There is the me that my friends know, the me that my old friends know, the me that my third brother and sister know, the me that my parents know, and the me that our family friends know. Within those groups it is branched as well: the younger generation, and the older generation. To the older generation I am scrupulously polite, I am somewhat traditional, I am intelligent. I am centred and self-assured and many other things that I am a little of, but not fully.

Caz said it always surprises her, unnerves her whenever she hears me talking to my parents, or talking of home and realising that what she is seeing is only one aspect of my personality. I've turned so Westernized in my ideals, in my manner, in my way of thinking that it becomes harder for me, as time goes by, to fall back into those compartments that I have organized my personality in. It's probably a lost cause, but I fight for that because a very large part of me does not want to upset the organization that had took me so long. I wonder, though, if the reason why it is so very difficult nowadays is because my personality is turning more and more sure, more concrete. Yet due to this, I cannot help but wonder... which is turning real? Which of my personality is manifesting itself? And is it really the right one?

Ah, no more. I dislike these moments of introspection. They give me a headache and I suspect they make me sound more and more like the whining child I was.