Wednesday, September 27, 2006

i want to break free

They are playing the latest Scissor Sisters in the coffee shop. The one that goes, 'Don't feel like dancing, dancing!', and incidentally sees me dancing like a deranged queen. Ironic little minxes, they are. I believe the cute coffee shop boy is also looking at me. I could be wrong, of course, since i am known to be egotistically paranoid. But i think not. This time i don't think my peripheral vision is playing dirty tricks on me... (Ouh! There, he just glanced at me again!... Or, maybe he simply looked up in deep reflexion, and a girl hoppin' & dancin' like she just escaped from an asylum just so happens to be seated directly in his vision range. Right. Am egotistically paranoid.)

I just received an email from my friend Jules over in Europe. I'm really delighted she is having a great time but it also strikes me how i wish i were there too. How i should be there.

Right. Now.

You see, i have this very rational belief. When i really want something bad enough to - god forbid - actually put some significant amount of effort, work & hope (yes, hope, i dare say, so you know i was being dead serious) in it, something i believe would significantly have an impact in my life, then it will not happen should i speak of it. I think this is what people refer to as 'Jinxing'. Or, 'Being Crazy In The Head'.

Regardless, it still remains an indisputable cosmic force that never fails to occur...

When i was 11 years old, i wanted to go into this special advance class (yes, was a lil' keener back then). The program was bilingual - half of the year in French, the other in English - it was going to be in a different school, it seemed fun & challenging, new & different, and also, obviously, most of my friends were going. We talked & talked about it, how great it would be to spend our last year of primary school together in such a 'fun adventure' (okay, oddly keen... ). Lo & behold, i wasn't accepted. Because - get this - i spoke too well English. It was a bilingual program for advanced & autonomous children in order for them to learn the language, and as i already knew how to count to 10 in Shakespeare's tongue, and did not fail to pronounce 'tree' & 'three' entirely differently, it wasn't going to be worth it for me apparently. Retarded wankers.

Leftover bitterness? No. But it brings back some rather frustrating memory about my bastard elementary school (and it doesn't say much about our schooling system, now does it? tch). Also, it just annoyingly proves my point.

At the end of 11th grade, Trinity College, a high priced prep school in Ontario, offered a scholarship to two students from my secondary school to attend their program for three years. It wasn't a full scholarship but the opportunity to go away, see & take in another culture (think of where i come from vs. Ontario as California vs. New York, or rather flamboyant nonchalant hippies vs. trendy boxy squares*), and meet different people just set a spark inside me (and considering that i was a rather vapid anti-social lass back then (and still am at times...) that was a remarkable effect). I was so excited, had already begun writing my application letter, and started ranting to my sister how 'awesome' this is going to be until she hit me with the reality of finances. My parents had already put themselves deep in debt for my sister & i to attend good private schools, there was no way they could longer afford to pay the rest of the tuition - a ginormous 5 figure toll coming from here.

I never sent my letter. There is no bitterness at all, nor regret, and i'm not entirely sure it is even a very good argument seeing that it is more because of logistical reasons rather than a non-sensical universal force against my spoken plans that i did not go. (Although i'd like to think so.)

Upon realising last year that i did not want to pursue my field of study any further, and henceforth having my mirage of a future evaporate before me, i grabbed on to the feeble hope that i shall run away from it all by flying to Europe (England, to be exact) for an indefinite amount of time. This, i thought, was going to be It, Goddamnit. It was the only thing that kept me sane, the beacon in the night, the light at the end of the tunnel. Over-dramatisation? Alas, no.

Staying here, you see, would suffocate me... Staying here would see me, among unpleasant catatonic states: freak out for not knowing what to do with my life, seeing my parents freaking out about my not knowing what to do with my life, freaking out trying to not look freaked out about my parents freaking about my pretending not to freak out (even though i am totally freaking out because everybody i freaking know is getting their shits together except for me, and frankly that'd be a bit of a strain on my already fragile state of mind, thankyouverymuch).


Unfortunately, the fact that am still here writing these frantic words should imply that yes, i have untimely spoken about these plans to my sister, to my friends, extensively, oh the fool that i am... (Oh, and um, conflicting dates with school, not being able to graduate on time, insufficient funds and feeling rushed had something to do in the abortion of The Plan as well. [This would aso mark the beginning of my wonderful intimate acquaintance with Mr. Effexor but that is another story altogether, i'm afraid.])

Why am i babbling on about this [as oppose to other exciting inanities in my life]? Simply to state this: I will go away around this time next year. 'Nooooo! Don't say that!!', someone screams somewhere, and yes, i understand, have i not learned anything?! The problem is, I DON'T GIVE A SHIT. No matter what happens, graduating or not, rich or poor, i. Will. Go.

I have to.

I am craving to be in London right now. Somewhere where i can finally live my life as i see fit. And not have to answer to anyone. To roll freely along the currents of life & people. Make mistakes. See. Live in a dilapidated hole that is all my own. Watch. Read all day. Write all day. Make Art. Learn. Be submerged in colors, and patterns, and lines, and forms, and light.

Right now, i am living with my folks, taking a semester off, and trying to work more. I am doing this despite that i have only a few courses left in order to graduate. Because, you see, i just need to feel, really. Not particularly for someone or something, but simply for life. For living. I need to feel as if i am working towards The Plan (v. 2.0), which is more related to My Life than my uni degree is at the moment. Even though i know this is going to be tricky - especially when i am surrounded by some people who keep looking at me with pleadingly inquisitive eyes, wondering what the hell i am thinking... Added to that this Jinxing business on my back. Although technically, i am not speaking of it more than writing about it, no?... Should that not count in some way?...

In any case, it should allow the beast pounding in my chest to ease up a little. I just hope that it can hold on until next year without exploding...

Or worse, disappearing.

*i mean this in the nicest possible way - i love folks from Ontario, know loads there, half of my family included, really. Um, cheers!

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