I love my OCD, I love how I get to arrange each and everything I own, down to my feelings. Order is beautiful. You get everything you want to accomplish, well accomplished! You save time and effort. However, someone commented saying: "You are too practical, you are not living." I didn't respond. I just smiled. You know why? A year ago, before I started working, I lived. I lived everyday as it was meant to be. I never cared or gave a damn about tomorrow or whatever that has happened the day before. I was fun, pleasing and people loved going out with me. I would crack them up. Where we would be spending time was never a problem for me. I didn't care as long as I was having fun, which was a real plus for my friends. You see some of the people we went out with had, well, they had reservations regarding certain places, where we would generally hang out. I just didn't care. I didn't care how would I go back home or when. Of course, my father would flip. But, that's his job, he has to let the neighbors know that he is doing his parental tasks. He screams in my face and promises me that's the last time I would be seeing the streets; and that the only way I am going out would be to attend my classes, which for some "superstitious" reason always ended at 9:00 pm. Oh my! Well call it whatever you please, rebellion, cheeky, I don't care. It was all fun and games. This doesn't mean that I became a boring person after I started working. On the contrary, I believe I am still the way I am, but with priorities.
Nowadays, I need to prepare for the lessons, predict what sort of questions my sneaky little students would ask me in order to see me stutter and trying to find a quick way to answer them or at least divert them from it till I find a good comeback, just to see their disappointment in failing once again to defeat me. It's like an undeclared subtle war. They see me young and inexperienced, I see them as cocky and arrogant, full of nothing but hot air. When in fact, just two semesters back, I was in their places, I used to argue and counter-argue with my professors. It still beats me how on earth did they restrain themselves from throwing a chair to my head, but they did it. Thanks to their restraint, I am still alive, I am successful and I am on my way to establishing a prestigious name for myself.
But that's not my topic, that's my goal, mind you, not a dream. After I started working, I am, well, more logical, I like to believe, I still have my days when I am a complete moron, goofing around and laughing in the office, but so what? I do not need to justify this "switch" to anyone. It just happened. If I have exclusive tickets to an Evanescence concert and papers that are due tomorrow, I would sadly let go of the tickets. I would convince myself that around the corner, I would be rewarded by something else for choosing work over fun. I mean, I can always Youtube them and have the best karaoke sing-a longs to it.
I used to be 21 in every possible way, yet now I feel like an old soul, it is a nice feeling. Like an out of body experience, I get to watch how am I behaving, acting and thinking in a third person kind of way. I beam with pride when I am praised for my intellectual skills, for my logical if not extremely practical way of thinking, for my listening, patiently, for being objective. Now, I find myself enjoying my two favorite pastimes: reading and writing. I am reading more than before and writing as well. I get to sit with myself more and frankly speaking I am enjoying the shattered self image of myself.
She is a very intriguing person to talk to. She contemplates. Her "what ifs" are mind blowing, and her honesty is brutal. I admire her for being brutal to herself. She knows her points of weaknesses and strengths. She is a vision; a shattered vision, but a vision nonetheless. She would do Dali proud. For her, fun is reading, writing and thinking. She adores the seclusion. Loudness is an exterior she uses to keep away the nosy wanderers off. For she likes to give the impression that she is just another girl, fresh out of the oven, still oblivious to the real world and its dark side. Halo is more than just meets the eyes. She is my Inferno and my Paradiso.
I wish I could find a garden with a rocking chair, a cup of hot green tea with a lemon zest and a piano playing in the background, and me thinking and recalling the days when I used to teach with a smile. I would always wonder how was I seen? What type of teacher was I? Was I good, bad, or kind? Was I inspiring to anyone, or just another traditional teacher in jeans? I'd never know.
My vision is of me at the age 65 walking on a sandy beach at sunrise with a shawl, a summer dress and a dog running near by. I would have a smile and a reminiscing glance tilted to the great past and the nice warm future I get to spend in Australia. That is my dream. Australia, its Opera, my novels, writings, poems, and my green tea.
Earlier, I have claimed that I can control my emotions, I OCD-them, well that is true. I believe that feelings should come according to a time-line. When we are young, feelings of hope and happiness, as we grow and enter teenager hood, we have feelings of pretentious hate towards our parents and wild accusations of how they are to never understand what we are going through. How they cannot seem to realize that having a crush on the most handsome guy in school with ginormous thighs can do a number on one's already shattered self confidence. But, thankfully, we out-grow it with a bit of a heartache and acne that is way too stubborn and attached to let us enter college in peace. Then the struggle between junk food and the perfect waist line, the perfect hour-glass figure. Now, it is time for feelings of confusion as we approach senior year. The "what's the next step?" question that pops in. The doubt, did I enter the wrong school just to be with my friends? Oh wait, you never had any, you went there to follow your passion. But, does following one's passion equals having a career that is capable of supporting you? Will it be something that could help you climb the pretentious social ladder? We graduate with good grades and confusion takes over. Now what? Do we continue studying till we hang the PhD certificate on the bedroom's wall or do we work? And if we do work, what would we be? That's when optimism shines in, finally, saying: "Oh, you could be whatever you want, just be patient and take my hand!" and you do! You follow optimism. The optimism of a freshly graduated person, you apply for jobs you never thought you would apply for, with optimism encouraging you whispering, that it's alright, that you need to start somewhere to pursue your bigger unknown dreams and you believe and oblige it. But it takes too long, and doubt creeps in saying: "I told you so." You sit back watching hope and doubt fighting with each other, to try and get you to join either side and you cannot find it in you to care, that is until your savior shows up; it is the phone ringing saying: "Congratulations! You are accepted! Be at work Sunday morning." Sunday morning comes in real quick, you think you are unprepared, but deep down you know you will ace it. From this moment, you are way too overwhelmed to notice anything else around you. You start loosing count of all those friends who just leave because you no longer have time for them. And as if this is not enough, you enter an existential crisis with yourself when you finally realize that all your believes are being tested over and over. Each time harder than the other. But, this also ends, it ends with peace and tranquility, you just shake it out and continue as if nothing happened.
This is simply, life. You jump on board whether you like it or not, but you get to decide if it's worth the fighting for or not.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePLKJSfjb8M&list=RD02FIy14j3VnL0
Peace out! H!
Nowadays, I need to prepare for the lessons, predict what sort of questions my sneaky little students would ask me in order to see me stutter and trying to find a quick way to answer them or at least divert them from it till I find a good comeback, just to see their disappointment in failing once again to defeat me. It's like an undeclared subtle war. They see me young and inexperienced, I see them as cocky and arrogant, full of nothing but hot air. When in fact, just two semesters back, I was in their places, I used to argue and counter-argue with my professors. It still beats me how on earth did they restrain themselves from throwing a chair to my head, but they did it. Thanks to their restraint, I am still alive, I am successful and I am on my way to establishing a prestigious name for myself.
But that's not my topic, that's my goal, mind you, not a dream. After I started working, I am, well, more logical, I like to believe, I still have my days when I am a complete moron, goofing around and laughing in the office, but so what? I do not need to justify this "switch" to anyone. It just happened. If I have exclusive tickets to an Evanescence concert and papers that are due tomorrow, I would sadly let go of the tickets. I would convince myself that around the corner, I would be rewarded by something else for choosing work over fun. I mean, I can always Youtube them and have the best karaoke sing-a longs to it.
I used to be 21 in every possible way, yet now I feel like an old soul, it is a nice feeling. Like an out of body experience, I get to watch how am I behaving, acting and thinking in a third person kind of way. I beam with pride when I am praised for my intellectual skills, for my logical if not extremely practical way of thinking, for my listening, patiently, for being objective. Now, I find myself enjoying my two favorite pastimes: reading and writing. I am reading more than before and writing as well. I get to sit with myself more and frankly speaking I am enjoying the shattered self image of myself.
She is a very intriguing person to talk to. She contemplates. Her "what ifs" are mind blowing, and her honesty is brutal. I admire her for being brutal to herself. She knows her points of weaknesses and strengths. She is a vision; a shattered vision, but a vision nonetheless. She would do Dali proud. For her, fun is reading, writing and thinking. She adores the seclusion. Loudness is an exterior she uses to keep away the nosy wanderers off. For she likes to give the impression that she is just another girl, fresh out of the oven, still oblivious to the real world and its dark side. Halo is more than just meets the eyes. She is my Inferno and my Paradiso.
I wish I could find a garden with a rocking chair, a cup of hot green tea with a lemon zest and a piano playing in the background, and me thinking and recalling the days when I used to teach with a smile. I would always wonder how was I seen? What type of teacher was I? Was I good, bad, or kind? Was I inspiring to anyone, or just another traditional teacher in jeans? I'd never know.
My vision is of me at the age 65 walking on a sandy beach at sunrise with a shawl, a summer dress and a dog running near by. I would have a smile and a reminiscing glance tilted to the great past and the nice warm future I get to spend in Australia. That is my dream. Australia, its Opera, my novels, writings, poems, and my green tea.
Earlier, I have claimed that I can control my emotions, I OCD-them, well that is true. I believe that feelings should come according to a time-line. When we are young, feelings of hope and happiness, as we grow and enter teenager hood, we have feelings of pretentious hate towards our parents and wild accusations of how they are to never understand what we are going through. How they cannot seem to realize that having a crush on the most handsome guy in school with ginormous thighs can do a number on one's already shattered self confidence. But, thankfully, we out-grow it with a bit of a heartache and acne that is way too stubborn and attached to let us enter college in peace. Then the struggle between junk food and the perfect waist line, the perfect hour-glass figure. Now, it is time for feelings of confusion as we approach senior year. The "what's the next step?" question that pops in. The doubt, did I enter the wrong school just to be with my friends? Oh wait, you never had any, you went there to follow your passion. But, does following one's passion equals having a career that is capable of supporting you? Will it be something that could help you climb the pretentious social ladder? We graduate with good grades and confusion takes over. Now what? Do we continue studying till we hang the PhD certificate on the bedroom's wall or do we work? And if we do work, what would we be? That's when optimism shines in, finally, saying: "Oh, you could be whatever you want, just be patient and take my hand!" and you do! You follow optimism. The optimism of a freshly graduated person, you apply for jobs you never thought you would apply for, with optimism encouraging you whispering, that it's alright, that you need to start somewhere to pursue your bigger unknown dreams and you believe and oblige it. But it takes too long, and doubt creeps in saying: "I told you so." You sit back watching hope and doubt fighting with each other, to try and get you to join either side and you cannot find it in you to care, that is until your savior shows up; it is the phone ringing saying: "Congratulations! You are accepted! Be at work Sunday morning." Sunday morning comes in real quick, you think you are unprepared, but deep down you know you will ace it. From this moment, you are way too overwhelmed to notice anything else around you. You start loosing count of all those friends who just leave because you no longer have time for them. And as if this is not enough, you enter an existential crisis with yourself when you finally realize that all your believes are being tested over and over. Each time harder than the other. But, this also ends, it ends with peace and tranquility, you just shake it out and continue as if nothing happened.
This is simply, life. You jump on board whether you like it or not, but you get to decide if it's worth the fighting for or not.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePLKJSfjb8M&list=RD02FIy14j3VnL0
Peace out! H!
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