being something

i used to be a very easy-going girl. in high school and throughout college, i coasted on luck and common sense and this knowledge that no matter what happened, i was going to be ok. i was never ambitious and i never wanted much so i had an ulcer-free childhood. but i was also pretty smart for my age and i think that gave my lack of ambition a kind of romantic quality to it. it's not as if i couldn't get top scores if i wanted to-- i just didn't feel like it. i was so full of promise but such a lazy git.

these days i wake up with a tight knot in my chest, my heart goes by a dull futile pounding and sometimes i can't breathe. all because one day i decided to prove that i could do something extraordinary with my life, instead of assuming that it was all just unused potential. sometimes i wonder what happened to the girl who was going to be a great writer one day, the girl who was going to do something beautiful and stylish and artsy with her life. i try to call her back sometimes but it's very hard to keep a conversation going with past selves because sometimes you find that you have nothing in common.

i'm in England taking my MA in children's literature. When i tell people this, i get a whole range of reactions. Some people think that it's oh so wonderful, and interesting and unusual. And sometimes they'll think-- how lucky that she can study something so frivolous. Because really-- what kind of money is she going to make in this field. I remember one day before i left, an uncle asked me what i was going to take up--economics? business education? engineering? When i said children's literature, he chuckled, patted me on the head and said: ok, that's ok too, i guess. i am perhaps a little too aware of how people see me and i have to consciously say: fuck you all. this is my life and if you can't think of something beautiful to do with yours, don't come around here belittling mine.

when i think about the beautiful little girl who was going to do something lovely with her life, i realise that for most of my life, i've remained angst-free because i detached myself from so much of the world. the people around me were characters in a book and i was this silent narrator, walking around, making commentary. nothing troubled me because i could go into myself and revel in this special secret i kept in my head. it's so special i couldn't tell you now because i don't think i ever fully understood it myself. (but then perhaps i'm overly romanticising the past.)

the trouble began when people became more than characters. i began to care about them and about what they thought and about what pleased them. and now i think that's all my life is about. worrying about whether i'm making the people i love happy. which is not a bad thing, mind you, but sometimes i feel like my life is never going to be fully my own. i came to england hoping to make something of myself-- whatever that means. i came here to prove that i wasn't just a sweet but essentially useless ornament in my father's house. i needed to prove that i could manage my own life and that i was good at something other than being the family pet and i wanted a taste of freedom and an adventure of my own. it's harder than i thought because i feel even more chained to my home than before. i worry constantly about the people i've left behind, i worry about whether i'm up for this year. i question whether this was the right decision to make. i question my motives for going on this experiment. i wasn't content with who i was, but at least i KNEW who i was and i knew what was expected of me. for the past four months, all i have been is an MA student-- which wears you very thin after awhile. all this pressure on papers and grades and intellectual achievement. and when i come home, i know that i don't want to be just the family pet, the good daughter that everyone delights in, the spoiled little girl who lives off her dad and battles her mother over petty domestic issues. i'm afraid that when i come home, they'll want me to go back to how it was before and at the same time they'll want me to have something to show for this year away. i've missed my family so much these past 4 months and i'm very excited to go home for christmas. at the same time i'm very worried about how things will be.