“We are not those characters we want to be. We are the characters we are.” – Tom Wolfe, “Genius”
I never felt comfortable, or even the slightest bit excited, with autobiographies and non-fiction books or movies. The thought that what was happening on the movie, or what was being described in a book, all happened in real life always makes me feel uncomfortable. Of the very few occasions I have witnessed such literature, there’s this question that lingers behind my mind: why is my life not as vibrant? And then it gives birth to a couple more questions that, in general, make me feel as if I am but an empty shell walking around every corner, waiting for something that will fill the black hole inside.
It’s like being alive is like having this unending responsibility to prove you’re worth the air you breathe and the pavement you’re standing on. You have to be interesting. You have to be weird in a unique and lovable way, lest you want to be the unnamed passer-by.
Am I living a life enough to take up pixels on a computer screen or ink on a paper? Will someone even care to know what I was thinking one hot evening under the street lamps and sparkling sky?
And then I realised one thing: the greatest biographies have been written to look back on someone’s life. They’re done a long time past when they happened. It is not so much as to tell the world how a genius spends his morning. It is more of the idea that you’ve done all these things that didn’t seem to make sense – but now they do. They are meant for looking back and reflecting on how far you’ve come – of how brave you’ve been for going through all those shitstorms and fucked up days. It’s about realising that one point lead you to another until the exact spot where you are right now.
We’ve all been writing our autobiographies all this time. Which path are you heading: left or right?
People often see me as someone who has her shit together. They think of me as someone who’s “up and coming”. Someone really authoritative calls me his “golden girl”.
But what does that even mean? What does it mean to be someone that everyone considers to be.. “doing really okay”?
Would you call it “success” if it’s not something you were aiming for in the first place?
Okay, yes, I know. I do not even know what I want to do with my life, yet here I am: complaining again. I am serious about this. I can do things, do them really well, but I cannot do things. All I probably know is how to shadow others, and raise the bar higher – I cannot set my own bar. I can only do things that others are already doing.
What am I gonna do? I am 23 and I do not have a single idea what to do with my life. I do not know if this is pre-quarter life crisis kicking in, but I am dead serious right now. How do I figure my life out?
Maybe I should do some.. summer cleaning? You’ll hear from me again soon.
Surprisingly, this has been a good week for me.
Even though last weekend was a long one, I did not really get to fully enjoy it because I had to fucking work on a fucking long weekend. Oh, I also attended a friend’s wedding on top of that, which was tiring because it was held in a province. The internet connection at the hotel that I stayed in was fcking slow, and.. well, I am quite an impatient person. Since my week did not start well, I thought I’d be thrown from the frying pan onto the fire before the week actually ends.
But the universe decided to be kind to me! My former manager joined my current team, so I was really happy that some of the heat will be taken off my hands. I have been running around like crazy the past few months because I have been taking care of my team, so I am really glad that I’d get someone more senior than me who will be able to watch out for the team! ^_^
And the best thing about this week is.. I have finished watching “Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo”! It’s such a good k-novela! The actors/actresses aren’t super good-looking, but their characters are really charming! :”> For now, byeee.