I know I am a late bloomer but I never thought it would be in the sense of experiencing hormonal rebellion, the sort of deviant syndrome normally found in the raging years of teenage hood, where all you wanted to do was procrastinate, dwell in a dreamlike state, survive the wreckage of disorganization, savor the satisfaction of going against every rule and live through an impossibly insane period to tell the tale.
Either because I wasn’t that crazy back in the old days, or my teenage drama/trauma had yet to pass, like an under fledged chicken pox returning to haunt you, but I seem to be dragged though another phase of that immature disease again. Not that I am saying it is a bad thing. Because I have not smiled and laughed as much as I have this entire week, and the freedom I feel is so intoxicating. Procrastination and mismanagement and tardiness have always been my snuck biscuits but now they are made all the more sinful with the group of us practicing them.
Yes, I have been slacking on practices and lessons, though I could justify it with the fact that midterms have passed and it would be a while before the next climb to finals. And yes, I have worsened my detachment-from-reality condition with Maple Story, even Maple-Magicianized as YingPork in the virtual church of Ellinia within a day.
I even introduced Blob to them, and they Gung Gung and Bibi me. You people have no idea how relief I was that I was not the only who draws comfort from cloth-and-cotton inanimate objects.
You have a right to be worried, because so am I. I am so used to following my half rigid half flexible self-dictated schedule that this period of deviance is rather unsettling; I don’t mean a timetable with specific slots, God knows I can’t handle such discipline, I am talking about adhering to deadlines with days to spare, pinning down substantial amount of practice before classes, and churning out assignments ahead of everyone else, all done with a rough outline of daily to-accomplish list.
But childishness could be so addicting, especially at this age.
Is this the extreme I have been searching for? People do need to flex their personalities of opposite polarities to counterbalance the stress they are facing. The way adults turn to video games or mindless hobbies to avoid being crushed by the weight of the burden they carry daily. Or maybe I have suppressed and still the need to uncoil for too long, always choosing practicality over emotionality; always fussing about what had to be done, how to surpass my past achievements, busy being the girl next door.
With the exception of Les Sluts and disregarding the distant past that is my bittersweet Foundation Year, I am more or less a social pariah, which makes me question my ideal picture of college life. Am I being Asian by wanting perfect grades and attendance? Or is this drive for academic satisfaction a residue of my high school days?
Whatever it is, I want it stopped. NEED it stopped.
My graduation should not be a reflection of just my technicalities and skills I have donned these four years; it should be of my journey and my growth as a musician, as well as a person. I want to graduate as me, a more mature, open-minded, stronger me; not a product of vigorous training and blind obedience.
For now, I would take up this offer of a joy ride through the remaining weeks of the semester, hoping to glean something I would not have on my own.
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