Interests:Singing, internet surfing, writing, listening to music, reading Expertise:Procrastination, technical support (and getting annoyed when people ask for it.), reviewing fics (apparently) Occupation:Student
Yeah, I'm sticking with Arts/Science. I still love finding out how the world works. Even if maths does suck. Sorry about the black reply box, everyone; can't seem to fix it... Just a short entry today. I did this writing exercise that turned out to be a 1500-word character profile about this guy in a band. And I've realised why fanfiction is fun again. It's awesome because you love your subject matter. So even if your writing sucks, or is total drivel, you still like it because you're waxing lyrical about something you love. Heck, maybe that's why there are so many bad fanfiction writers out there. It's hard to tell if you're boring the hell out of everyone who isn't a band fanatic. And even when you know you're switching tenses and your plot's badly structured, it's so much fun. I guess that's what editing's for.
I've been writing so much. I'm pretty proud of myself. And I've been uncovering things about myself and others along the way, which is interesting.
Mothers' Day tomorrow, so the usual lunch/dinner stuff. I love you :) How bizarre is it that it's so difficult to show our affection? That we have to choose one specific day out of 365.25 days to celebreate our mothers? Note that I'm not against Mothers' Day because it's still a great reminder of how much we forget to do during the rest of the year. One day is better than nothing. And keeping up civil relations seven days a week, 52 weeks a year is plain tiring. But personally, I'm really going to try to do better than Mothers' Day.
I never finished the previous discussion, did I? Oh well, that will wait until I'm feeling abstractly emo. right now, I'm feeling practically emo.
I found out Lucy quit science today. She really wants to be a muso, and dropping Science from Science/Music would allow her to do more stuff and concentrate more on music. Which is great. But I was thinking, 'why are you doing this to me?' You see, Lucy is the smartest science person I know. This is the girl who got a medal in the Science Olympiad and skipped first-year physics and most of first-year maths because it was too easy for her. If she can drop science... can I?
Why am I even doing science? I probably should have realised this when I was tearing my hair out over course planning because I was trying to fit too many arts subjects in and having to take random science subjects because I didn't have enough of them. Okay, the only possible reason I'm doing science is because I want a physics major. Or do I? Physics is interesting, it really is. Astrophysics and relativity, stuff on the macro scale, intrigues me. It's great stuff. But with other stuff, well it's interesting, but kinda like how chemistry is interesting to an extent because it's cool how the world fits together, but you wouldn't be too bothered if you didn't know any of it. I don't know if I'd actually enjoy wokring in physics.
I'm beginning to suspect that I am doing physics because:
1. I'm too bloody damn good at it. I'm going to have an arrogant moment here; bear with me. I know that if I make it through the five years and god knows how much further study and finally through to the workforce, I'll make a pretty good physicist. This is a conceited woe-is-me self-important societal obligation thing, but I think the world needs a good physicist more than a mediocre writer or journalist or whatever I end up being. Besides, I think I'd rather work in something I'm good at.
2. Linked to the above: I don't know what I want to do. There are some things I love and can't imagine living without. I can't imagine not studying or utilising Japanese. I can't imagine not writing. I can't imagine not producing music. But I'm not sure if the passion is strong enough for a career (in the third case I think it actually is, but that's just not practical). If I quit physics, I don't know that I'll necessarily end up in a better position. I might end up in a job towards which I'm even more ambivalent. But... I suppose that's just a fear thing isn't it? That I'm scared I'll regret my decision? Maybe I'm doing physics just to keep my options more open.
3. I don't want to tell my parents I'm dropping science. I don't think they'll be pleased.
4. Maybe I enjoy physics more than I think I do now, and I'm just being emo because all I have ahead of me is the prospect of a year of painful maths.
Well, writing this blog helped me figure out some things. Firstly, I'm crashing my friend's physics classes. I need to find out how much I'll actually like physics. Secondly, I've figured out that reason # 2 is largely an excuse. cool. Thirdly, I really need to talk to my parents about this. Last time I had to make a difficult decision they helped me a lot (although I still wonder whether the decision was right; heck, maybe if I'd done the physics thing in year 12 I'd have no doubt now and not be in this mess). But I've also been thinking about whether it matters that my course is called BA/BSc, rather than just BA (DML) or whatever. I'm largely responsible for my own education. If I'm interested in arts stuff, I can just crash arts lectures, and same for science (until they get too small to crash). Does it really matter what I'm officially doing? It's all so confusing. Would someone like to help?
Let's finish the entry I posted below. Hehe, you can definitely see me falling asleep.
I was on the topic of friendship if I recall correctly, and how it's incredibly easy (for me, anyway) to forget some obvious truths about it. Well, here's another one: friendship is a gift. Perhaps because of the lack of cliques and constant companions in arts/science, perhaps because I was never a particularly outgoing person (oh, and perhaps I can delete that 'particularly'), but since my first day at university, I have found myself more alone than I have been for six years. It's not like I've been reluctant to step out of my comfort zone; my 'acquaintances' now fill, well, many Facebook pages. And my friends are really awesome people.
Of teenagerdom, of course. Not quite ready to graduate or die yet. And as usual, here be my ramblings.
My eighteenth year was certainly an unusual one. There are the obvious changes -- the school uniform has been closeted in favour of scrappy clothes, my windscreen now reads 'P' instead of 'L', my pianist's fingers are no more as they have succumbed to the attack of my cruel steel-string guitar... and there are the less obvious. I have gone through various moods of exuberance, reflection, self-pity, content, anger, confusion -- probably enough to pose as a woman in menopause. Somehow, the overlying theme seems to be endless assumption of self-importance. Anyhow, that wasn't the direction I was supposed to go in. A lot has been learned, and even more lies in wait.
Turning eighteen has numerous strings attached, and it is not difficult to be entangled. You can drink. You can drive (and numerous jokes have been made about not doing these simultaneously). You, or at least I, can construct for yourself a fantastic world in which you, the lead, have exaggerated independence and sense of worldliness. Being eighteen means that the sun has risen 365.25 x 18 times since you were born. It does not grant you any magical powers. However, the number gives rise to a funny idea. Your perception of society's expectations coerces you into thinking that because of this number, you are completely independent, your own person. That you are supposed to stand on your own feet now. That you don't need the people who love you any more. That you can fling your family's well-intended words behind you like old instruction manuals, despite the unconditional love and care they have given you over the past eighteen years.
I had my second coming of teenagerdom at age eighteen. Who am I kidding? I'm still in my second coming of teenagerdom. I somehow thought that my parents' attitude would change, that they would let go, one minute past twelve, the twelfth of February, year two thousand and seven. And I was sorely disappointed when everything remained the same. I started pushing away my parents' offers of help and their advice (yes I can make my way home by myself, thank you very much). I told myself that now I was capable of taking care of myself, I ought not to impose on my parents' inconvenience any longer. This is partly true. But I remember not wanting to be seen with my mother on enrolment day. I made her wait elsewhere while I stood in the queue. I remain ashamed of myself.
Now, I do not think that my parents are perfect. I maintain that I have the right to have a different opinion to them, and I have the right to feel indignated when they 'patiently' explain to me why they are right and I am wrong presumably due to my inexperience of the world. However, I now know that parents will always be parents. Just because they no longer have to sign your permission slips, it doesn't mean they won't always be looking out for you. Just because you're at university in the new-fangled twenty-first century doesn't mean that your parents have nothing to teach you. Your parents will always have the right to treat you as a child. Their child. You would not be here without them, quite literally. And after seeing the throng of parents on enrolment day, and meeting people with all sorts of family situations this year, I remain convinced that although we all play at independent adulthood, we rely on our family more than we like to admit.
Going to uni for the first time also gives you this strange idea (if your year twelve careers counsellor hadn't impressed it upon you enough already) that you're supposed to know what you'll be doing for the rest of your life. Or at the very least, what you want to be doing. Fair enough, especially if 90% of your school friends seem to be doing medicine or law. People ask, 'so what will you be doing once you finish with arts/science?' You answer with a self-deprecating laugh, 'I don't know, isn't that why I chose this course?' Then as the first year draws to a close and your single-degree friends are fretting over majors, and everyone seems to have found their passion in life, you continually get this nagging feeling that you're left behind. Or worse, that you're leaving yourself behind, that you're not doing enough for yourself, that you should have figured yourself out by now (come on, you think I can be even more self-centred than I am already?) You think, 'how is it that I don't particularly want to do anything? Anything?' To break my wise bubble, I'm still stuck in this rut. But you realise that the majority of the people on this earth are not living their career dreams (did the bus driver idolise the occupation when he was a kid?). Perhaps the majority of people on this earth have no dreams beyond providing a secure income for their family. Perhaps most people never figure out their dreams, hence the growing midlife crises. Perhaps most dreams remain unfulfilled due to lack of ability or financial support. It is then that I feel lucky, for I am privileged to even have the chance to take on the world.
When you're seventeen, you feel like you're on the cusp of something. Of 'adulthood', of course, but also of something more. You sit there doing your Chemistry HL Paper 2 past exams and you think, once all this is over, something is going to happen. My life is going to being for real. Perhaps you were mentally challenged? What did you expect to happen, girl? Real life has always been here. Oh, they'll tell you that 'next year you're going to be out of school and in the real world'; the next thing you'll know you're at uni and they tell you 'three years later, you'll be in the workforce, in the real contributing world'. Perhaps this 'real world' they speak of doesn't exist; perhaps it dances forever out of reach! Or perhaps it is already here.
That was a random tangent... what was next? Oh yeah, friends. When you're at school, it doesn't really occur to you that you have to make an effort to talk to your friends. They're swarming around you all the time. I should have known better because the last time I moved schools I failed miserably, miserably in staying friends with anyone. But it was (and still is) so weird to have to curse yourself for not replying to one e-mail, because you've now lost a conversation with that particular person. It's extremely unsettling to hear someone mention how they miss someone else so much, and you think 'God, I haven't thought about them since... I left school'. I really have to drill into my head the concept of making an effort to keep in touch with these awesome people! (Which makes me think, what kind of person am I? Eh, probably just a lazy one.) I think I'll make this my resolution of the year while I'm at it.
Okay, you can tell my brain is going to mush. More later.
