Hello Old Friend,

 This blog is 10 years old.

I started it in my senior year of high school, back when I was still young, confused, and brimming with potential. Torn between pursuing my passion of becoming a writer, or following the traditional path of getting a degree in the medical field.

Well, the degree happened. I never used it, but I did get it.

I wonder what 18 year-old me would have thought if she knew that 28 year-old me would still be writing here, but also working as a full-time writer.

I'm nothing special, though. There are like 50 more of me at my workplace and some of them are unbelievably good at what they do. But I'm okay with it. I'm okay with not being the best.

Yeah. After years of struggling with what I want to be versus what everyone else expected of me. Years of fighting with all my power just to stay afloat and keep my head above water. Years of hopes and fears and disappointments. Years of gathering all my strength to prevent myself from becoming another cog in this magnificent, grinding machine.

I just let it happen. I stopped grasping at straws and let myself be what I was always meant to be; just another person.

It's crazy but it also isn't. To think how the decisions that 18-year-old made are what brought me to this point of my life where I'm so at peace with being mediocre and seeing it as a positive thing. 

I stopped trying to stand out when swimming against the current for so long absolutely damaged me. Instead, ways to fit in became everything I hoped and dreamed to find. 

It wasn't that hard, either. In fact, it was one of the most liberating things to have ever happened to me, precisely because it happened to me, I had no incentive or hand in doing it.

How funny is it that I'm writing about this without bursting into tears, though? The worst thing I could have imagined happening to me ten years ago is exactly why I'm so at peace today.

Hope that's how I'll be looking at things in 10 years, though.

In the Middle

I'm not even sure whether it's me who's in the way of life, or life is in the way of me.
Periods like the one I'm going through are easily dismissed as "transitional;" something that won't last and probably is leading up to something better. But I have to wonder:
Is it real what we, human people, tell ourselves whenever things get too much to handle or life spurs out of control, that "everything will be alright eventually?" Is it not some random things happening to each of us, the bad and the good? If we tally the good and the bad in each of our lives, are they supposed to magically level off?

Self-pity is pathetic, but it's kind of comforting to know that you sympathize with your own self. I mean, right now as I'm feeling in the way of so many lives, so many happinesses, so much going right for people I care about (including my own self), I kind of like the fact that I'm not hating myself for it.
The way I see it, life also is getting in the way of me being a normally functioning human being. I was not made for waking up at 6:15, toiling my way through life without relishing in the sweet taste of meaningful connection with other human beings. The fakery of smiles and giggles to strangers you work or study with, who think they know you because they know your first name is draining. The weeks spent without good company, with no rush or excitement at the prospect of doing something or seeing someone you love is painful.
Monotony is painful. Loss of passion and purpose is painful. Boredom is deadly.

So I ask for help, and what I get is a concoction of tried and tested formulas of how to be a normal person. How to get your rough ends rounded enough to fit in the nice cookie cutter shape of the ambiguous yet weirdly specific good person. A good student, a good daughter, a good God-follower, a good friend, a good whatever-you-fill-in-the-space. The approach that everyone's going for is: "Well, looks like your life is pretty much a cleared piece of land, so why not build it up the way everyone around you wants you to?!" Sure thang! That's a pretty damn awesome plan, collective mind of the peoples!

I had mentioned in a previous post that my attempts to not get in the way previously prevented me from ever breaking rules or rebelling against authority even in my oh-so-vulnerable teenage years. But goodness gracious! It looks like now, at 21, I'm starting to think to hell with everyone!

Okay, okay. Not that drastically. But I'm getting more and more convinced that as long as I'm not actively trying to hurt someone else, I shouldn't worry too much about what people will make out of my life's decisions. Sure, I may do things I regret later, but it's those things that I might remember when I'm old and gray and think: "Man, I used my stupid young person privilege well!"

One of these stupid things is staying up writing till 3:15 on a school night. Oh well.

The Ella Enchanted Syndrome

For my whole life, I've been the goody-two-shoes who follows laws, rules, and regulations with blind obedience. I was told it was best for everyone. I was told it keeps everyone safe, happy, and productive. I was told when things are in order, little could go wrong.

Throughout my almost twenty one years of life, I saw laws being broken, regulations ignored, and people doing whatever the hell they wanted to do, to little or no consequences on the greater good of the society. Sure, many of those instances lead to injustices that affected me directly and personally, but no one else cared and I knew it was best for everyone if I just kept my mouth shut. I realized I bend under pressure and cave in under the unjust rule of tyrannous figures who only cared about that elusive, mysterious "greater good."
And for the very few times I tried to play rebellious and pay no heed to their warnings, all hell broke loose.

This is not to say I got in much trouble, because the last "serious" trouble I ever got into was back in kindergarten when I publicly defied a teacher who didn't like that I talked too much. The situation worked out in my favor after my mother meddled, but ever since I've always thought twice and thrice and a million times before defying authority. Be that the security guard in front of a building who insists on making my life harder because he can, to the teachers, professors, religious leaders, team leaders and so on of the people who have a say on what goes and what doesn't in my life.

I just don't like using uncivil manners, which might seem contradictory to my feisty personality and quick temper. But screaming and using foul language always comes with more internal repercussions than external for me. I have terrible guilt that breaks me down every time I lash out at someone, whether they deserve it or not. Added to the perfectly convenient (hah!) unlikable aura that surrounds me wherever I go, it just makes life pretty hard for me to not be a complete and utter angel. I can't -of course- because I'm human, but my failure to conceal contempt or disgust or any negative feeling there is always makes me dissatisfied with my performance in the system I am currently living in; the system that both repels me and repulses me.

But I'm tired of that. I'm tired of feeling scared all the time lest I step on someone's toes accidentally while I go on living my life. I want, for a change, to not care whether my existence is causing someone trouble or inconvenience. I want to stop caring about everyone's needs and desires, likes and dislikes before my own. I want to stop regarding the laws and rules and unspoken conventions (which failed to protect my rights uncountable times) as sacred laws to be regarded above my personal comfort. I'm tired of being a coward and fearing the consequences of every action I take no matter how trivial and insignificant it is. And I'm tired of being scared to stand up for what I think is best for me, regardless of what people say and rules dictate.

I want to embrace this phase of rebelliousness now that I can, for one day I'll wake up unable to defend my rights that I let go of, when I possessed the voice and energy to stand up for them and receded. 

Social Networks & Social Insecurity

I initially thought of writing this as a Facebook post, I don't know why, but I have seemingly forgotten I have a blog. It's been over a month since I posted on here. This particular month witnessed tons of changes in my life, the first of which is that I got accepted into college! I also went on vacation, made a few new friends, and had fights with old ones, then reconciled with them...or whatnot.
I'll get to the point of the post. I believe every human being on the face of this earth suffers from some kind of insecurity. Be it their appearance, intelligence, sociability, people they're related to...etc. What truly differentiates calm, collected people, from panicky, freaked out people is their ability to manage their insecurities. Some people like to hide how they feel towards the points of lack or weakness they have, while others make it more obvious, whether to earn people's sympathy, to justify their failings or any other reason I might not be aware of. Though genetics may have a hand in the level of insecurity one has, I'm a firm believer that their surroundings are responsible for the majority of the problems this insecurity causes. Social networks are guilty of being a big part of it. Remember that one time when you were home, bored, sitting on your couch in sweat pants, and you decide to check your Facebook, only to see pictures of your friends smiling, happy, on vacation, triumphant and with a partner. While you feel lonely, lost, a failure, bored and alone. Remember how it made you feel to watch an insane sum of "likes" on your classmate's, colleague's or friend's picture, while yours only has a handful? I'll tell you what I felt like then: an outsider, dissatisfied with what I own, unpopular, ugly, not enough, repulsive, alien...oh, the list goes on.
I once thought that people would treat me nicely if I was nice to them, that if I have a good looking profile picture my "friends" would click like, that I can get people's good attention with a well-thought, well-written post on whatever social network it is, so that they might share it with their friends. But man, was I wrong!
I don't have to be "nice", I just have to act like I don't give a heck about whoever is talking to me, ignore them all I want, sound as cheeky and sassy as possible, and people would luuuuv me for it! The number of likes on my profile picture is directly proportional to the amount of skin I'm showing, or how crazy my pose is, or how "popular" I am in real life, even if the picture is terrible! I won't get people's attention to an important matter, I just have to write like: "OMG, worst day of mah lyf!" or a more typical "You don't deserve the attention I give you!" or the classic "I've got nothing left to lose..." in order to get 50 likes in 15 minutes!
Life is absurd, and social networks capture its absurdity on the highest level possible.
So, I quit trying to be popular. I've had enough with the pain and insecurity it causes me to see how different I am wired from the mold of a "popular girl". I don't want to dumb myself down in order to get the "likes" of the lowest common denominator! I won't judge how pretty my picture is by the number of likes or comments it gets, or how witty my one liner is by how many people retweeted or favorited it. I might return to my shell and get back to being the socially awkward nerdy girl no-one was friends with, but it'll be much better than trying to cope with what it takes to be the "it girl"!

Perfection Interrupted: Perfection vs. Individuality

I thought about writing this while having a conversation with my English teacher. I'm mere days away from starting my high school finals, which will eventually determine the university I'll go to. My teacher said that my dilemma of losing marks and half-marks, which eventually lead to a series of A-'s and B's is mainly because of creativity. Now, I'm not creative as in writing down stuff that does not have anything to do with what I'm being taught, nor was he saying this as a way of reprimanding me. I just figured that I try -sometimes subconsciously- to make it obvious I did something. I have to leave a mark on whatever I'm doing. I am individualistic.
This is a challenge in the "one size fits all" system of life I live in, especially when trying so hard to be "perfect."
Being perfect doesn't always mean being the best, but "perfect" does imply that to people sometimes. I struggle to meet the expectations of people around me when I'm not so sure what they expect from me. This is why I long for perfection. Because we all know that the superlative of anything is the clearest form of said thing. I try to be the superlative, and when I fall short, I feel like a failure.
Back to individuality, aka uniqueness or just being different. I don't like being like someone else, none of us does actually. Even the most conventional thinkers try to have a signature way of showing it. God created us in a way that it's impossible for two people to be alike, regardless of how similar they are, they cannot be identical by nature. We, on the other hand, set up standards and molds and labels to put on people so that their uniqueness doesn't bother us. And some submit to the box they've been given to live inside. Personally, I have been trying so hard to fit in the very narrow box of "perfect" for most of my life. I have only recently realized that I'll have no personality of my own if I kept trying to squeeze every last bit of my creativity and individuality into that box.
See, the pattern from the beginning of time till say the 1970s had been to just conform to the standards and be like everybody else. Be different and brace yourself for being called a witch, a clown, a traitor, an idiot, stupid, pointless or helpless. Refer to history for confirmation.
Artists, thinkers, poets and musicians have been outcasts for affirming individuality. Even now, in the age of "freedom of expression" where everyone with a good camera phone is a photographer, and every idiot with a blog is a writer, and every guy with a guitar is a musician, real artists are still outcasts, because their voice is not auto-tuned, because their articles have spelling mistakes, because their paintings are not easy to understand, because their art is not "perfect."
Alas, we ruined both perfection and individuality.
I don't even know whether it is possible for longing for perfection and individuality to reconcile anyway.
Oh, well.