gathering dust

Humour me for a second and forget that mp3s have taken over our lives, and lets pretend for a moment that you still frequent your local music store to buy albums, as opposed to clicking 'purchase' on iTunes, or wherever you get your music from these days. Humour me for a moment.

Everyone has that one favourite CD that they used to play on loop. It may come with a sticker on it's shiny plastic cover, proclaiming bonus tracks, or posters. Or in some cases - 'buy one get one free!'. The cover probably isn't all that shiny anymore, the plastic probably scratched and worn, cracks from careless storage crushing the flimsy covering.. But you don't mind because the memories that go with it are just so fantastic, and anyway - the CD plays just fine. (Or maybe you do mind, you anal bastard. But I'm ignoring you lot for now.)

You know that as soon as the first tune plays you'll be singing along, vague smile gracing your face and for a moment you're somewhere else. Down the highway, cruising with the windows down and the wind messing up your previously perfect hair. In your room, tears running down your face, pillow in hand, and your constantly vibrating phone sitting ignored in the corner. Next to your best friend, hands clasped tight and voice hoarse from the screaming because the vocalist is so hot, and watching them live is worth skipping meals for.

Once upon a time, it was all you played. You know every song, and the order it comes in, and you're already anticipating the next song.

But today.. The case is cracked, and the CD worn. The songs skip or gets stuck, the scratches did their damage. So now it sits quietly in corner, gathering dust.

Some items just aren't meant to last forever. I don't have the heart to throw it out just yet, but when there isn't any more space left in my cluttered room, I'll say goodbye.

And some friendships just aren't meant to stand the test of time. I'll always root for you, and I'll always wish you the best. Maybe it's a telling sign that our memories are better conversation material than our current lives.

worker bee blues

I haven't been happy about work since last year, and I don't think much has improved since I quit my last job and got into this whole freelance-lark. It's a bit hard to admit, since I do so adore writing, and I wouldn't trade the chance to write for a living for anything in the world.

At first I thought it was because I was working in the media, but if I think carefully - working in the media has been a fun and rewarding experience. I've met so many (no other words for it) awesome people, and have tried my hands at so many things I never thought I'd do, and ended up enjoying the experience.. well 90% of it. Which I think is a pretty good percentage, considering how many of my own friends have hated their first jobs and opting out of their chosen trade within months of starting it.

I like styling. I got to meddle in interior design and artsy-fartsy stuff, which honestly was heaven for me. And most important still - I got to write.

Quitting my job was a hard decision, especially as technically I had fun, and enjoyed the process.. but I was getting dragged down by certain persons who made my working experience not enjoyable. I thought working freelance jobs might work out well for me, but not really. I get to choose my jobs, sure.. But it's just not as fun. I don't think I'm cut out for this whole 'working on my own' thing. I prefer being in the company of other people. (I know. Say it ain't so! But I swear this is really me talking, it's weird.)

So now I'm looking around, and trying to dip my toes in something else. Something that's a bit related to my degree perhaps?

But the media world has been knocking on my door again.

Even though I said I'd never go back, and I feel like I'll be eating my own shit if I go back.. Seriously. Siren calls. I know how comfortable it is working in a magazine, and if the support system promised is actually there - it will be glorious.

Argh.

...

Reading back this post - it looks terrible and barely coherent. But I honestly don't have the energy to edit anything right now. Ah well. You'll have to bear with it.

unexpected

So I have an Evil Twin. Well. Sort of. He likes to think that I'm the evil one, but really, I'm not. He totally is.

He's a dude I met right at the start of uni, and we hit it off straight away, because basically - we liked making fun of people and being snarky. So yes, we decided that we're practically twins because we had a shitload in common, and zero attraction to one another. Probably because he thinks that I'm "a cool dude with long hair." - his exact words. Repeated so many times over the years that I'm starting to believe it myself.

Cue years of making fun of other people, making fun of each other, and occasional petty comments which may or not may not have resulted in incredibly childish name-calling tournaments.

For the past three years or so though, I've only seen Sir Twinno something like once a year. Usually on his birthdays. And that's only because he has an awesome girlfriend who usually rounds up all his friends for his birthdays (alas, even when I had boyfriends, they were sorry excuses for human beings.).. Work, traffic jams and other lame excuses have sort of been getting in the way of our friendships. Even the phone calls have dwindled down in frequency over time. Mostly because he was just a phone call away. An easy enough distance to cover, no?

Well, not for the next year or so. Because today I drove to the airport to send him off to Scotland. To nom on haggis. Uh.. I meant to continue his studies. Bastard. And I say that with affection.

I'm not big on tears, and I wasn't expecting to be that sad over his leaving, because if you think about it, next time I see him it'll be a year (or so) from now, and it's exactly what would have happened if he had stayed. See him once this year, and then again next year. But it sucks. Because the option of calling him up whenever I want has suddenly disappeared.

I have not used my time wisely. We should have hung out more often. Because hey, if you have a friend who understands your need to bitch and not be a Nice Person all the time (even if that means sometimes getting seriously insulted and angry sometimes), you should appreciate them.

And okay, part of it is maybe because I may have been contemplating my friendships a lot lately. Especially considering the way some people have unexpectedly disappeared from my life. So yeah, I'm feeling a little sad over some friendships that I feel I could have 'saved' if only I had made more of an effort.

Ah well, that's another topic for another day though. This one is for Sir Twinno.

So here's to my Evil Twin. May you do well in your studies, and I hope you don't piss off too many people. Come home soon, and we'll bitch about the table across from us. Because you know we'll find something to cackle about.

happy (?) eid

So Ramadhan came and went, so have Eid.

I used to be excited over Eid. This year.. Not so.

This is getting to be a horrible trend. What with me not being all bubbly and happy over my birthday earlier this year (having said that, I had a smashing time getting.. well.. smashed.), and then not gleefully counting the days to my holidays. Now Eid is sort of just.. blah.. for me. I hope Christmas and New Year's will somehow revive my silly, giddy ways.

I don't think it's a sign of me getting older.. I don't think. I hope not.

I just need to get fired up over something again.

It's Feb again!

This is the year that I turn 26. It's a bit scary but somehow uneventful.

I'm not the most mature person out there, and birthdays usually make me giddy with expectations of fun, fun, FUN things (that I planned for myself). But this year I'm kinda down in the dumps.


Fingers crossed I'll be happy on the actual day. ^^

Caramel and whiskey.

There's something magical about soft, dull, grey drenched days.

You can't help but think that something is about to happen. Any moment now. There's something simmering under the crusts of the earth and it's going to amaze everybody.. Any moment now.

Of course nothing ever really happens.

No zombie will ever crawl towards me as I shuffle miserably to my car after a particularly grueling day at work at 2 am. No army of werewolves will howl at the moon when it looks particularly delicious, all round and golden and beautiful. And no faery will whisper in my ear, luring me to their secret mound where I shall have to resist the temptation of dewdrops and exotic looking food.

I know that Narnia isn't behind a cupboard door, no matter how many times I gleefully try to sneak inside one. I understand that no matter how pretty rose petals look, or how fragrant crushed mint leaves smell - they have no magical property whatsoever, and magic spells don't exist (and anyway, spells need far more exotic ingredients. Rose petals and mint leaves are way too common!). I realize that my car won't speak to me, even if I coax it and name it and coo at it.

Yes. I do read too many books and watch too much TV and replay movies much too often.

But if nothing else, books have taught me that anything and everything is possible. Even if it's just inside my head.

Because I understand that caramel and whiskey is a terrible combination, but the taste that lingers seems to overpower just about everything else.

Door-knocking

So.. I wrote this over a week ago, with the intent of posting it on this very blog:

*

"You know when you’re heart is beating so hard that you can feel the veins in your neck grotesquely pulsing, and just about every part of you is in pain as your stomach clenches nervously..? Yes. That.

By nature I am not a very brave person. I’m actually rather like the cowardly Lion. I’d rather hide behind the ginger kid, serving her up as a sacrificial lamb rather than face anything remotely scary head on.

To be fair, I’ve been told ginger kids are supposed to be sacrificial lambs.

Aha! Forgive me, I’ve just broken my fast, and my inner snark is itching to be released.

But to be serious..

I am rather cowardly."

*

The feeling of being petrified passed, but I thought it'd be a shame not to share my utter terror over sending a simple email. Yes. Sending an email.

To be fair the email may or may not change my life for the better, but still - it was only an email.

Change does terrify me though, which is weird.. Considering I moved a lot as a kid, and saying hello in front of a large classroom full of curious eyes happened at least once every three or so years. But it seems that along the way, the mere notion of change freezes me up.

It's one of those things I'm trying to deal with - wish me luck!

Knocking on doors shouldn't be too hard, right?

I'm really sorry that I occasionally serve up really annoying, cryptic posts. ;)

Bags ahoy!

And not the type I'm obsessed over either. Talking about bags under my eyes, great, big, black bags that make me look like I've not slept in years.

Below is a very careful, very accurate picture of me:


Although I was informed that the hair was nowhere near curly enough to resemble me. So this was my second attempt:

I'm guessing it's still not curly enough, as my hair has the tendency to frazzle under stress. Not that I'm stressed. I don't think I am anyhoo.

I just REALLY need to be at the beach. NOW.

I was over at The Dork's house (hence known as D or Dork) the other day with Bee (buzz buzz), The Overachiever (hence known as TO), and Quin.. And we were having fun, just relaxing, watching a movie that seemingly went no where.. Well, I say 'we'. They watched the movie, I fell asleep about a quarter of the way in. It was SO NICE.

I miss bumming around so much. Jakarta is.. hectic. I love this city but I always feel like I'm hurtling towards something. Even in traffic I feel rushed.

I just need a quick weekend getaway.

Damn you, facebook!

I moved around a lot as a kid, different cities, different countries (okay, to be fair there has only ever been two countries), different friends. And I loved every minute of it. I'm always terrified starting somewhere new, I'd get a bout of this horrible, crippling, stomach wrenching feeling of complete and utter helplessness. But there's always, always, always, someone there. Always. That one girl or boy who'd give a confident grin, someone who'd take my hands and share a book with me, or ask me if I wanted a snack. Sometimes it was just a shared smile over someone else's stupidity. And that single moment in time would cement my love of this strange, new place.

More often than not, I'd end up making other new friends, and that initial contact is soon forgotten. And these friends I made - I always thought I'd keep them for life.

On the one hand, I love how facebook got me reconnected with them, letting me glimpse into their life again. But that's just it - it's just a glimpse. It's not a real connection, and sometimes it's just not enough. I miss the people I knew, but I know those people on facebook... the ones posing with their kids, or in togas, or travelling the world.. I don't know them. And when the mood hits, I feel like shit.

It also feels extra awful when it's a fairly recent connection.

I saw a picture today. A friend who smiled. And I wondered how they were doing.

Oh heartbreak!

Isn't it just pretty? Just absolutely gorgeous? I want my Furrow eco friendly leather bag in navy blue (yes, that's the name..*wails*). A seller going by the name of Hoakon/Helga at etsy sells these absolutely breathtaking leather bags from repurposed materials, old leather jackets reimagined into pretty bags, with pretty linings (yes, also repurposed if possible.).. Eco friendly, and pretty, and durable! What more can a girl want?

.

Unfortunately mine got lost in the mail. At least I think it did.

.

It's been a month, but I'm not giving up! I'm going to go over and see if they've kept it for some insane reason.

.

I've never had problems with shipping as I have purchased many, many things from etsy (okay so 10 isn't exactly 'many', but yes.), but lately the Indonesian post has been.. shall we say.. 'moody'? 'PMS-ing'? Point is, this is my second shipment that's gone weird. Grrr.

.

Wait. Third. Counting a shirt and Twix(es?) the wonderful A sent me. I also want my shirt and my Twix!

.

I'm not exaggerating by tagging this post as 'the horrible feeling of woe', as this is extremely woeful to me. My heart is breaking at the thought of not getting this wonderful bag.

.

No. I'm not a drama queen.

.

*sulks in a corner*

Exorcising demons

.. I'm trying to sleep, but I spent the past hour refusing to shut my eyes because last night's nightmare was.. terrifying.

It wasn't chilling. It didn't leave me shaking. but it was just terrifying.

The details escape me now, but I was basically living one day over and over again. Wake up, make sure my two brothers are up, usher them to the kitchen, feed them, run to school. Wake up, make sure my two brothers are up, usher them to the kitchen, feed them, run to school. Over and over again.

I had become so confident in the routine that I did it with my eyes half closed.

Then the dream suddenly skipped back a night.

It showed my house, which was nice, and had a beautiful glass roof. Conveniently located next to a gothic-style church, which apparently - my parents take care of.

I understood that it was Halloween, and my mother was apprehensive about the night because 14 years before, someone dived off the highest tower and landed right in front of her. She hated Halloween ever since. And chaperoning little girls who kept running around to see the church's towers, with no fear of heights, was not her idea of fun.

I assured her that all was well and the night passed uneventfully.

So came the next day.

Wake up, make sure my two brothers are up, usher them to the kitchen, feed them, run to school.

Which I did with a smile, because something inside me was singing happily, telling me the dream was almost over.

So just as we were about to run off to school, I stopped. I dug my hands in a sack of flour and stood there frozen. Saying something over and over again..

"Please no. Don't jump. Nonononono. Please don't."

My mum and two brothers looked at me, half curious, but mostly confused. Mum reached towards me and it was at that moment I jammed my fingers in my ears and screamed. I can feel the flour in my ears, and I remember the whoosh of a heavy object landing behind me. And screaming.

Lots of screaming. Two little boys screaming endlessly, terrified. My mum choking out short bursts of alarm. And my own.

The worst sound was the stranger's scream - which stopped the moment the glass roof broke.

And amidst the chaos, I remember thinking 'An angel must have done it. An angel must have forced me to live this day over and over till I could go through it without thought. Getting my timing just right.' Because had I been late just a minute - The girl would have fallen while I looked on. Or worse - she would have fallen on top of me.

And then I woke up.

I couldn't get back to sleep. I was terrified.

And every time I closed my eyes, I'd see the same girl falling. Off buildings. Off mountains. Off airplanes.

And now I can't sleep. I'm still terrified.

Oh how quickly the laughter fades

Wonderful, wonderful people, can't you stay forever?
Or just a little while longer?



I do so hate to say goodbye.

On words, magic and resolutions.

For a title that long, this is going to be one helluva short entry.

I believe in magic, I do. I do.

On facebook, netiquette and parental supervision

Rule number one of the internet : Never talk about the internet.

Oh hang on.. Sorry. I was thinking of Fight Club there for a second.

The internet. It's a wonderful place, yes? Full of information and possibilities and people. Oh I know there are plenty of bots around, but people.. People make the internet a wonderful place to explore. It also makes it oh-so-dangerous.

Rule number one of the internet : Be sensible.

There's been a couple of stories on the news lately of teenage girls going missing after meeting up with people they've met on the internet. While it is a worrying thing - the internet isn't to blame. Specifically - facebook isn't to blame.

I've been on the internet for more than 10 years now, I'm healthy, (sort of) sane and pretty much in one piece. No, I didn't really have parental supervision when I started out - mostly because I sneaked on when my parents weren't looking. When they did realize I've been using the computer for things like chatting and surfing however, they told me one thing : be sensible. Don't give out personal information. Don't be an idiot.

I realize with things like facebook and myspace and friendster and hi5 and all those other social-networking sites, you do end up giving out personal information. Things like your name, and maybe place of work and/or school - but you really don't have to fill all the spaces provided. You can omit those details and no one is likely to complain. they can always message you if they need to contact you.

And yes, I know you can meet people on the internet. I, myself have been lucky enough to have met some really wonderful people. It's not likely I'll ever meet any of them, sure.. but I have received packages - expected and unexpected - from them. Gifts that I treasure and keep in a special place. And if I ever do decide to meet any of them.. Well I'm going to be sensible.

Is it too much if I say that it's common sense that if you're going to meet up with someone you have never met before, you go to a public place? Filled with people and preferably somewhere familiar to both parties. Go with other people, bring at least two or three friends along.. And for God's sake, don't go anywhere "private" with them! Not to a quiter place, and definitely not to their cars!

Yes, I know it was horrible that these girls went missing, and yes I suppose I am selfish for saying this. But I do hope those few idiots doesn't ruin the internet for everyone else.

Our government right now is at a place where they're likely to do anything to make sure they stay in the good graces of the public. And while many would be outraged at the possibility of over-policing the internet, I fear many more will cry out that certain sites just be banned outright.

Maybe netiquette should be made part of the curriculum in school.

Or better yet - teach common sense.

It seems that most of the problems in Indonesia could be solved with just a little bit of common sense. *sigh*

FISIP UNPAR 2004

Introducing Parahyangan Catholic University's Faculty of Social Sciences, class of 2004.

Taken within the first few days of being "grown ups" when we had no idea what that title really meant.

I spent around 5 years with them. I ended up living with several of these lovely people, spent 24 hours a day 7 days a week giggling and escaping class, fell in love (and broke it quite dramatically), had my car broken into, went on several awesome roadtrips, routine midnight outings and other silly things "young people" got up to.

I miss living in Ciumbuleuit dearly.

ARGH! Feeling suddenly nostalgic. It's all Dork-boy's fault. (btw.. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DORKMEISTER!!)

A couple of us gathered last night to throw my friend a surprise party. In the old days this would mean hordes of people sneaking out of their houses in their varied sleep-attire, and meeting up in front of the birthday person's place. It's much harder now we've all split up an are scattered all over the place.

But we managed. Sort of.

Laughing with them makes me miss the old days quite badly. The quips and running commentary on anything and everything.. The bad puns and hilarious jokes. I miss them so much, I wonder why we don't hang out more often.

Lesigh.

The distance between places, the traffic jams, the jobs.. Grraaghh.

I MISS YOU, FISIP 2004!
And I miss living in close proximity with you guys.

If you're ever in the area..

.. send my love, and tell her I miss her dearly.

If you ever get the chance to go to England, and wish to spend a quiet day relaxed, go to Exeter. Drink a cup of tea and feel humble in front of the cathedral. Take a walk by the quay and smile at strangers. Stroll through the high street and enjoy the bustle - stop by St. George's market (if it's still there) at any time of day and have a breakfast of chips, sausages and eggs. Visit the library and close your eyes for a moment. Go over to The House That Moved and marvel at the absurdity of moving a whole house. Peek in corners and passages for strange hidden delights.

Go to Pennsylvania, past Elliott Close, past the corner shop. All the way down to the recycling bins.. Walk towards the bushes and find the hidden path to eat wild blueberries. Stain your mouth and enjoy the burst of flavour, and wash your hands in the titchy stream. Watch out for the horse poop.

One day I'll be back. To eat fish and chips near the statue of the blue boy. Or grab a crepe, hopefully you'll remember me Crepe Man. Thank you for the delicious treats and feeding me even when I didn't have enough money. Now excuse me while I spend a few minutes bawling.

The House That Moved.

I took a lot of these pictures from the Exeter group over at facebook. Fek.

Messes Cranky Pants

I have found that I'm getting consistently intolerant of other people's inadequacies (while conveniently forgetting my own pile of idiotic stunts, pulled daily - on the hour, every hour.). I should socialize more often and rid myself of this annoying sneer, lest I become that person.

You know that person - everyone knows one. He who sneers at others, and finds himself perfect and without fault. One who demands apologies but never seems to be able to say one properly himself. You know, the person who says he strives for truths while only giving half truths, and regards compassion and tact with contempt.

Oh they probably can mask their snobby outlook and stick on a mask, masquerading as a perfectly good friend - as long as: 1. You don't hang out with them much, 2. You only meet them in a group setting, and/or 3. You keep things at a distance. Because God forbid you get close and find out they like to burn their friends in little bursts, to test their 'loyalty'.

*le sigh*

Yes I suppose I'm talking about one person in particular.

Anyway, this isn't about him (for once), this is about me and my inability to socialize properly these days. I find I'm getting more and more intolerant and impatient of people I deem 'overly and unnecessarily emotional', both in facing people and in their outlook of life. I just find them tiring, and I get tired so easily these days.

Not to say I regard those with a zest for life with contempt - au contraire. I love talking with passionate people, their fire inspires me to get off my butt and do something. I love shooting off with people who laugh like there's no one else in the room, and cry genuine tears (as opposed to those fake crocodile ones we all so despise). I love, love passionate people who have something to be passionate about.

I just have no patience for those who find drama in everything they do, and aren't thankful for the things they have - they annoy me to no end. Especially those who proudly broadcast to the world how shitty their good life is.

And I'm so sorely tempted to delete them from my facebook.
(Except I live by my own weird code of ethics I work by, one of which states: 'thou shalt not leave without saying why'. Aka, if I want them off my facebook, I should really tell them first. And I really don't want to deal witht he fuss they will kick off. So I'll leave them be and ignore their posts xD)

Anyway.

In a roundabout way, I'm saying I should get out of my comfort zone of deliciously wonderful friends, and dive into a more diverse world. I have to get used to dealing with people again, so that I don't find myself growling everytime someone offends my "delicate" sensibilities.

This whole socializing thing is such a whole lot of work..!

WE ARE NOT AFRAID. *remixed*

Okay we are- or at least I am.. because every sane person is afraid of death. But we're a strong nation, we will get through this and come out stronger than ever.

I'm of course talking about recent bombings in Jakarta. There's just so many emotions going through me at the moment, that I don't think I'll be able to be very coherent.

Indonesia will get through this - that much I believe.

Urges, indeed.

My latest attempt at controlling certain annoying urges I have - has failed.. quite miserably.

I alphabetized my book shelf so I can stop being so anal about the way its organized, but I took one look at it once it was done and felt so miserable I ended up locking myself up in the bathroom for five minutes.

I used to chop up my book shelf into bits. Dividing my books into genres that don't make much sense except to me.. Here's just an example of one - YA fantasy books I like: sub category - stand alones (organized by author, then height, then thickness), finished series and ongoing series. Then there's the YA fantasy books I tolerate, and then YA fantasy books I like but can live without.

See, in my head this makes sense.

This of course ends up with me being incredibly frustrated and pretty much pissed a lot of the times when people pick books off my shelf and put them in random places they really don't belong in.

All my ex-housemates can and will happily testify just how messy I am. I seriously leave everything out, jumbled up, and no - most of the times you can't see the floor. But being neat is just too exhausting. And will end up with me snarling if you so much as put one thing out of place, and this of course in turn will end up with me having no friends. Being messy is a much friendlier option. My friends can tell me off and make fun of me - but at least I'll still have friends.

I wish I could be reasonable about this, but its so hard.

And its so idiotic that I'm having a mini-breakdown because of my books.

Dear Goddess above..! I'm so frustrated right now. I can't have my books fully organized because at least 25% of it is out on loan, and there are some missing that I can't account for (which makes me want to scratch my face off). And having them alphabetized doesn't make sense. And I want to change it all to the way it was, so I can feel safe and good and comfortable. BUT I WONT.

Because this really needs to stop.

And this is only my attempt at organizing my books. Which I'll admit is a big part of me as a person and my life (I can die happy amidst books), but I really can't imagine how I'll cope when I start simplifying my wardrobe, my jewelery drawer.. and shoes.. ARGH.

It sounds ridiculous, I know. I want to give in. And this might not make sense to lots of people.. Why change things you're comfortable with, if it makes you this angry? Why indeed..

I guess I'm trying to prove to myself that I control my urges, and not the other way around.

Ah fuck this.

Plans ahoy..!

Dreams are wonderful stuff, aren't they? Gloriously full of hope and optimism and just general warm, happy feelings. I don't mean dreams as in those that occur while you sleep.. But goals in life, love and everything else.

I have lots and lots and lots of dreams. I know some of them can never be achieved - ie. I don't think I'll ever learn enough stealth to allow me to be a ninja. Okay fine, that one is a ridonkullus one, but I like to let my thoughts run rampant in my head. It keeps my life interesting to say the least.

Anyways.. Yes. Dreams.

They do suck a bit though, don't they?

Dreams make you realize that you don't have all the time in the world, and that maybe you wont be able to achieve everything you've ever wanted because those far fetched, high hopes you have for yourself is exactly that - a little far fetched. And you start to wonder if you'll ever be happy if you're forced to deviate from your plans of grandeur and settle for a job you know wont leave you satisfied - but will at least bring in the dosh so you live another day while your soul slowly shrivels up and die. That's a bleak outlook though, ain't it?

Miss Mita, my fabulously awesome bestieboo (who you should totally check out, because I love her to bits and she has mad writing sk1llz) wrote a post about dreams once, located *here*.. About finding balance and such.. She said that:

Dreams are goals, and they should be big, but they shouldn't take over your life. They shouldn't get to your head and change you when you get your first taste of its success. They should be your engine, your trophy. Not your drug of choice.

Balance is hard, huh?

The future is so uncertain right now that I'm feeling a little bit.. strange.

When I was 11, I had my life planned out in a fabulous dream sequence involving sunburn.. or dust. I was going to take a history major and be a historian slash archeologist - and no, I don't think I ever saw Indiana Jones at this point. I would work at the museum and document.. things. I had a vague idea that there would be documents to deal with at museums and I thought wearing gloves while holding them would be nothing short of amazing.

When I was 15, I changed my mind. I was either going to major in Biology and teach. I dreamt about getting into English Lit. and wow the world with my amazing literary skills. There was also that one time I thought getting into Design would be cool, before my skills at actually designing anything was revealed to be craptastic.

Point is, I always had elaborate dreams of my future, and I had the confidence I would carry them all out.

Right now I'm just keeping my fingers crossed I can graduate this year, which as far as plans go - isn't actually all that ambitious.

Whine. Whine. Whine.

No, I'm not actually whinning as much as voicing my fears. I know I'm not the first, and that I shant be the last.. And I know millions are probably going through the same things.

I used to think that people who were unsure and uncertain were wimps. That the world was too full of possibilities to hesitate, and that diving in to immerse yourself in life would be easy. Man, I was such a cocky little sha*te. I would have decked myself given the chance to meet my 9 year old self.

When did my dreams become plans? And when did those plans start looking so much harder to carry out?

I can't wait for the day I look back on this blog entry and scoff. And laugh. And grin knowingly. And say: "Kid, you ain't got nothing to worry about."

And maybe that's enough of a dream to keep me going for now. That one day, everything will be fine. Maybe the key to balance is to keep your 'dreams' as general as possible.

(But I'm still stubbornly holding out for a Japanese man dressed in tattered black rags and a straw cone-shapped hat, to come my way and whisper in a thick accent: "You be good ninja. I teach. Yes? I see you good ninja aura")