Hello
it’s become very hard to blog. after a long, full day at work squinting at the computer screen, the last thing i want to do at the end of the day is stare any longer at the computer. perhaps this presents the cure to my computer addiction. but i miss writing. i miss my bohemian life circa 2006-8. my mind is crumbling bit by bit with each passing day because i’m just not thinking enough. how do adults not feel jaded by this routine, this impossible ennui, and all the ridiculous unspoken rules that form the bedrock of the games that grown-ups play? i am in a zoo. i am in a crazy, organized, tight-lipped jungle.
three posts i attempted, but have yet to finish: a tribute to the wonderful person that is Yasmin Ahmad, a calm and collected response to Noor Azam — a smug and smarmy journalist with delusions of superiority — and finally, an angry analysis of the selfish and undeserving. i’m not too sure where to take any of these three posts. i have the feeling they will become cracked and forgotten, because in 15 minutes i can go; in 15 minutes i can be home, and i can be with friends, and music, and KFC, and Of Love and Other Demons by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. do i see a pattern here? i just revisited this list i wrote when summer began. almost three months later, i’ve barely scratched the surface of that list. in one month, i will be almost gone from here.
i spent the more productive portion of the weekend telling young Ivy League hopefuls that it’s not all that difficult to get into an Ivy. sometimes i wonder if i’m even really qualified to assure such things, because goodness knows what a fluke it was that i made it in myself. but it’s true though — it’s really not that hard. application essays are perhaps the biggest leniency in the entire application system. like i mentioned last weekend in my presentation about essay-writing, one doesnt have to be ‘a good writer’ to craft an arresting application essay — one just has to have stories to tell. and everybody has stories. everybody has 25 random things about themselves, and everybody has a favorite food, a pet peeve, a regretted moment, a conscience, needs. the sky is fascinating, sure, but soil is where all the good stuff is.
i also showed my CV and one of my apps essays during my presentation. i’m still not too sure why i did it — an instinctive and zen response to the call of duty, it felt like — but i already regret it. on my CV were my most important extracurricular pursuits, honors, achievements and volunteer work, and i never show people these things because it looks like such a bragpile when collated. it takes away the softness, the meaning and the balm that lies beneath everything i’ve ever done — when i built that playground, did i know it was eventually going to end up on a CV? when i won those debates did i do it because i wanted to go to a college that would take me so that i could debate for them? i only knew i wanted to go to an Ivy six months before the deadline. once upon a time i thought all that mattered was getting into an American college — any American college — and doing all the things that make me happy. now i am not in just any American college, and i am doing all the things that make me unhappy. i let people push me around. i let people make me to go to places i dont wish to go to. i show people my CV and then have to fight back regret. someone tells me that Malaysia only has a small racism problem, and i sit back and say, i’m too lazy to argue with you. i may as well just disappear.
so i showed one of my crappier apps essays on the big screen during the workshop. i’m very private about these things, but i had to convince myself that it was for a good cause because people will learn, and with that, people will go to better schools. the potential of plagiarism was of course at the fringes of my mind, but i didn’t think that i’d be disappointed with my decision. but of course, just a few minutes into the display of my essay on the screen, the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter went off in the hall. why are people like this? why are people kiasu? why did students come up to us — pen and notebook poised — and ask if we could recommend some charity organizations to volunteer at? why is it that charity only comes to mind when it can get you into a prestigious university? how could someone ask, “what if i can afford the school fees but i still want a scholarship?”
the above is a picture of me at The Met in New York. that was me, with shorter hair and tanner skin, and at the juncture of two different worlds. i was wearing white. i was arguing about the animal i was standing next to — my position was that the animal is a dog, not a lioness.
my heart was so light.
71 comments August 5th, 2009
