Where We Go From Here

Emily wrote something that inspired this post, and it's only coming to me now. Or rather, I've only woken up to it.

These past few days I've spent thinking (or as Zarina puts it, navel gazing) about the nature of dreams and plans, and how reality has to assert itself, often ignoring the social niceties of the process (if any exist). I've also spared some thought on the ideals of youth, and how responsibility and pragmatism (usually) hold sway.

Before I go on, a little update: my stalker is back. The relevance of this will be made clear as we continue.

Being the firstborn can be tough (or not). Some of us are born with whole silver platters in our mouths, not a worry in the world. Others slog our way up, dealing with filial issues and other responsibilities while expected to perform in our studies, get good jobs and take care of our siblings. I'm firmly in the latter camp. Not that my life is so terrible, but I've begun to wonder at my stubborness in wanting things out of life.

With my father struck by this mysterious illness (we're seeing Harun Din tomorrow) suddenly the questions come: how will my siblings continue school if something does happen (God forbid), who will take care of the family, and all that. I'm the only one with any semblance of a job, and right now there are three other people who still have a long way to go before they can even graduate.

So the result of all this thinking is rather clear: I've decided to not live in an illusory world where I have a job doing what I like, fall in love and get married, travel, you know, those special things you tell yourself are in store for you. Instead, I'll swallow those childish fancies and concentrate on taking care of the family, and making sure my siblings get through university.

It's rather straightforward, really. In this scenario, I stay with the uni, go for my PhD sometime next year, maybe get married before that (since this stalker actually likes me I figure it has a better chance of succeeding, nevermind I actually abhor talking to her) come back as quickly as I can to get confirmed and pave the way for my brother and sisters. Sure, it sounded painful when I first thought about it, but now it looks like that's the only way to go.

Dreams fade, and mine just did. The natural pragmatic lean of my Asian upbringing has finally caught hold, and all I can hope for is that my siblings and later, children will never have to question their aspirations or shelve their visions aside. So the ending I wrote for myself in my head a long time ago (you need those to go forward) needs to change.

We humans are adaptable, I heard. With enough effort I guess I can adapt to this, as well.

And probably I will.