Hoorah, Tora, dreidels.
At the peak of my childhood, I used to build make-believe cities out of Lego, Matchbox cars and a random assortment of toys. My mother would chide me endlessly about the mess that I'd made in my bedroom, while my father chided her for chiding me endlessly and told her that I was only attempting to reach my potential.
At the fringe of my adolescence, I played a variety of video games on my trusty Super Nintendo. My mother would chide me endlessly about the amount of time that I'd spend playing, while my father would chide her for chiding me and told her that playing video games would greatly improve and enhance my hand/eye coordination.
At the cusp of post-adolescence, I was given the free reign to choose whatever course that I wanted to pursue at an undergraduate level. More than eight years later, I can almost taste the end of this particular mammoth odyssey. From scraping the barrel of academic scraps only over a year ago, to rebounding out of a sheer desperate need for some form of affirmation of a backbone, I'm quite glad to say that we're almost done.
This cow is about to be put to pasture. However.
There's still an innate need to be placed back on the farm. Read this in whatever metaphorical fashion you'd like (and trust me, it'll be a hoot), but a part of me would much rather be milked than to be given a shred of freedom. Which speaks volumes about my character.
According to someone who knows me better than I know myself, I'm quite possibly a terribly risk-adverse person, despite strongly believing to be quite the opposite. And, in certain terms, I find myself forced in a position to agree with her; but only just.
It's not fully confirmed yet because there's still the question of the results having to be released, and my fingers are fully crossed that the outcome would be more than satisfactory...but I suppose that a burden has been lifted from my chubby Chinese fingers.
Only to be replaced by a whole new lifetime of burdens. Which are about to come crashing down on my oversized Chinese head.
An underachiever never has to fear failure.
At the fringe of my adolescence, I played a variety of video games on my trusty Super Nintendo. My mother would chide me endlessly about the amount of time that I'd spend playing, while my father would chide her for chiding me and told her that playing video games would greatly improve and enhance my hand/eye coordination.
At the cusp of post-adolescence, I was given the free reign to choose whatever course that I wanted to pursue at an undergraduate level. More than eight years later, I can almost taste the end of this particular mammoth odyssey. From scraping the barrel of academic scraps only over a year ago, to rebounding out of a sheer desperate need for some form of affirmation of a backbone, I'm quite glad to say that we're almost done.
This cow is about to be put to pasture. However.
There's still an innate need to be placed back on the farm. Read this in whatever metaphorical fashion you'd like (and trust me, it'll be a hoot), but a part of me would much rather be milked than to be given a shred of freedom. Which speaks volumes about my character.
According to someone who knows me better than I know myself, I'm quite possibly a terribly risk-adverse person, despite strongly believing to be quite the opposite. And, in certain terms, I find myself forced in a position to agree with her; but only just.
It's not fully confirmed yet because there's still the question of the results having to be released, and my fingers are fully crossed that the outcome would be more than satisfactory...but I suppose that a burden has been lifted from my chubby Chinese fingers.
Only to be replaced by a whole new lifetime of burdens. Which are about to come crashing down on my oversized Chinese head.
An underachiever never has to fear failure.
Labels: Musings, The future
posted by funkyhippopotamus at
10:50:00 pm
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