Tuesday, 10 March 2015

Incoherent (and Debatably Useless) Verbal Vomit

I've tried mentioning this anecdote from school this morning but everytime I write a sentence, I feel like I'm writing a diary entry and Command-A delete everything, so here I am putting it off and in essence, going nowhere. Okay. It's junior year, I say as I go to a British school and live in the Middle East with no true American exposure with the exception, of course, of the raging media. But anyways, this is my first year of studying psychology after having been interested in for as long as I can remember. I've always been set on wanting to get into journalism because writing things and making films and getting the opportunity to travel and experience things as a means of sustenance, but a week before the start of this academic year, I decided to swap media for biology because after research-filled all-nighters I decided psychology is what I wanted to do and at this point in time, in order for me to be able to do what I want, I need the means by which to pursue that at university. So I went for it and it worked. I'm not one for last minute decisions, in fact I've been thinking about what I want to do at A-Level for so long now that I didn't even hesitate when I realised something has stolen the spotlight from what I've always imagined myself doing.

The thing with living and associating with this particular community at my school is that they all have very high standards. The kind of high standards that slowly build up a fixation on "academic excellence". Essentially, everyone around here could fall under the heading of "Overachievers". And there's nothing wrong with that if that's how you roll, I suppose, but being an absolute perfectionist to the core the last thing I need is people approaching my accomplishments by the same manner that they'd approach someone who does not really put their heart and soul into everything they do. I'm not about to whine about things, like I usually end up doing. Actually, forget that, if I have to censor myself here then what even is the point??? I know it's 99.9% my fault for biting off a whole lot more than I can chew. This is basically like downing a foot-long subway sandwich after having a more than sufficient 3-course meal. You're getting so much satisfaction from all that goddamn food that you just can't stop and let's be real, that most definitely is an accomplishment. Okay I'm sorry that was poor comparison skills. It's 11:20 pm on a school night, you have no right to judge my literary decisions. 

b u t     a n y w a y s 

My point is, my "form tutor" - Mr. S - who also happens to be my psychology teacher (and a "chartered psychologist" if you will (or if you won't, it's not really up to you lol sorry)) asked the class what's one thing we've learned since September, wether it be academic or non-academic and aside from the typical answers of "wow I can now use a binder and since I put in those shiny labelled dividers, i've been acing every single subject" (which, granted, are very valid if it's working out for y'all), there were so many little "valuable life lessons" that Mr. S had shared with us in our 25 minutes every morning and out of those, many have actually sunk in and encouraged me to reflect on my own actions and thought processes. To be honest, I never thought I could be any more self aware than I already was but when something I could improve on is brought to my attention, I physically can't ignore it. And it's hilarious because he, himself, has told me to not burn myself out because I do tend to take on more than I can handle, but by actually taking more brain power to process my actions and thought processes and how they were affecting my well being, I was once again taking on more than I can handle.

Wow, I'm a mess. And this is me at seventeen. How will I survive my midlife crisis actually let's not think about that, shall we.

But the reason I've even remembered to write this is due to another one of the little things he's mentioned about passion and doing what you enjoy. He talked about not having the time to do some of the things he used to be very passionate about and how he sees us doing what we're passionate about now and essentially experiences things vicariously through us. The reason this particularly stayed with me is because I've basically internalised this constant fear of growing up and having my "heart die" as the oh-so-eloquent Allison Reynolds from The Breakfast Club put it. I don't want to lose the spark I have for things, the seemingly unlimited supply of energy, patience (although, that supply is quite limited most of the time) and the dedication to a belief or a cause or a feeling or a concept just so rawly and without any frustratingly but realistically limiting inhibitions that come with time. And I'm not planning on tumbling down that steep cliff of a route but what if you can't help it? I mean, I'm adequately realistic, but I like indulging in talking about things and expressing things and getting mad and frustrated and moved by things even if they serve no bigger purpose in the world's big picture. I'm a speck in the grand scheme of things anyways (and that's generous!) , so why can't I enjoy being a happy self-fulfilled speck for as long as I want. 

I know I can do whatever I want to do, and I know I have the confidence in myself to do whatever I want to do, but it's still a little daunting. I have to make decisions that my later life outcomes are based on. I have to think things through before I do them because of how I may feel about them sometime in the future. I have to take everything into consideration from the pride something might make me feel as a means of motivation to bear through it or the guilt something might make me feel if I do it "erratically" I don't know. I feel at a great advantage to have someone bring things that matter up more often because it does take a lot of time and energy to try and squeeze the mental stimulation from my surrounding. I've got a really good friend whom I can discuss things like this with but the fact that we're at the same time of our lives just doubles our speculation and frustration and confusion, whereas an honest insight or a glimpse at outcomes and consequences and aftermaths is something not everyone can offer. I don't even know what I intended this to be about, I just feel so light after I write things down and this has been another incoherent thought process. Sometimes I write things I don't want to and other times I think about things in a quasi-coherent fashion and assume I've written them. 

All in all, I'm not going to read this through before I post it because that's going to make me electronically bin it and I don't want to be stuck in that originality slump again because in the grand scheme of things nothing matters and if nothing matters I can write what I like. Even the voice in my head is tired of my shit right about now and wants to go to bed. I always start off with a million thoughts and end up verbalising the random ones, sometimes leaving out the really hard-to-swallow ones. But to be fair, they always find a way of escaping so you might be enchanted to meet them at some point in the not-so-near-future when I decide to do things more justice by actually verbalising them. 

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