What am I doing with my life?

Next week would be my final exam for this third semester. I'm currently at home, relishing my moments here (this is supposed to be study week but I'm not contributing anything related to the word 'study'). My 25-year-old sister is going to get hitched on my 21st birthday. ugh. Why on my birthday? (It does sound like I'm getting butthurt for being single while my sister is getting married on my 21st birthday, right? haha). 

I'm studying tesol. I'm studying linguistics. I'm studying literature. I even managed to do some (another) acting this semester. The schedule was packed. Even though I must concede that I skipped few classes and screwed the tests, I actually love the subjects. I love the fact that I'm analyzing poetry about death, the narratorial intervention in short stories and yeah even linguistic thingy. I don't care what they say, I still love the subjects. If you don't like the subjects, just keep your mouth shut.  

and I designed this poster :p

During LeLAC (an English camp organized by USM TESOLians)

 I discovered my new passion for photographing, recording videos and editing. I enjoyed being a part of St John's family where I got the opportunity to design posters. At first, I realized that my design was kind of ... bizarre (I guess?), but then again, I was just trying to experiment, discover and explore various styles. And I loved every moment of it. Now that I own a camera, I decide to optimize the usage by joining any event that required me to capture moments. And it was worth it. 

But um, after becoming a part of LeLAC's multimedia department for 2nd time, I gave up. Being a part of the team was amazing, but I'm done. I'm the kind of person who respects ideas, sharing and contributions from other people. When people compliment our group work product, I would tend to say, "Yes, this is HER idea, awesome right?". I would give credits to people who deserve it. But then I realize, they don't really acknowledge my contribution. Even when it was my idea in the first place, I feel unappreciated when my team member does not even bother to mention it. Yeap, I know it sounds like I'm craving for attention/credits but of course not. Don't you think that every person who works hard deserves at least an appreciation/recognition, right? 

Then I remember that not everyone has the same mindset as I am. We're just simply different.

And I'm still wandering. And wondering. What am I going to do with my life? I want to teach English, (yes, I'm on my way) but at the same time I want to do freelance. I want to inspire. I want to spread the beauty of Islam. I want to discover new things. I want to write stories. I want to travel and write about it in a journal. I want to capture moments. I want to create arts. I want to contribute my presence into world peace. I want to be an editor, designer and writer. I want to publish my own magazine. And the list goes on and on.

What am I doing with my life? I'm living in the moments, wondering and wandering but let's just say I'm not lost because I'm still on my way.

Reflection

Since I was 12, people would always tell me that I am mature. I have no idea how do they define mature actually. I really don't. Just because I put on serious face (aka resting bitch face) and act seriously so they call me mature? Or is it because I'm quiet most of the times and speak only things I want to make me mature? God, I have no idea. They even surprised when I told them my real age. Because they expected me to be older than I really am.

I don't even know if being labelled as mature is a good thing. Is it a good thing? Or a bad thing? Who cares. I secretly take them as compliment anyway.

Now that I'm 20, I feel like I'm restricted from being myself. My truly original self. People expect me to be all nice and kind and sweet. But when they know my anger sometimes overwhelms me, they say my words hurt them (even when I didn't mean to). And when I reveal the crazy side of me, they're ... shocked. But when I act all nice and ethical and mature, they say I make them feel restricted. As if they cannot do bad (or naughty) things in front of me because I'm too ethical. 

Oh wow. 

Now I don't want to give a damn anymore. I'm just going to be me. I get uneasy when you can't throw away your trash properly into the dustbin. I laugh at dirty jokes with my friends out loud. I love uttering good words because they make my friends feel better especially when they confide in me. I would not say anything just so I could avoid awkwardness because I am awkward and raw and real. I would not laugh at stupid jokes because they're not funny at all ugh. 

But if you get a problem with my attitude, please say it to my face. Don't go behind my back, shooting an arrow to my heart, then hide your dirty deeds. So immature. Or coward, I must say.

Yes my attitude always gets me in trouble. I'm not perfect. So are you. I can tolerate your imperfections, so why can't you tolerate mine? I'm sorry for being emotional but I'm tired of this drama. I'm just going to stay true to myself and focus on my journey to be a better person. Life's too short for that stupid drama. 

Loud Silence

When you're broken,
And nobody can fix that.

When you're afraid of rejection,
so you don't want to say anything.

When you're done with being the second choice,
So you walk away and leave.

When you're tired of being insulted,
So you don't feel like saying anything.

When you're sick of listening to their complaints about you,
So you keep your mouth shut.

You act like you're numb with feelings,
Then it all builds up into this pent-up of anger and madness,
Till it bursts and you're broken into pieces,
But they told you that you're just a crybaby,
You're just being emotional and melancholy,
When you know you're not.

So you think it's better to shut people out,
Because they continue to disappoint you,
And you can't help but to disappoint them as well.

So you keep hiding,
Crying behind the door,
Because you have no one to turn to,
Worse,
When you realize,
Home does not feel like home,
Home becomes a mere place not a feeling,
Then you feel unwanted,
You feel like a nobody.
You feel so useless.
Then you're doomed.

Still, nobody can fix that.
But you. 

Cry Baby

I guess I am addicted to sadness. When I am alone, I will be consumed of my dark thoughts, then I begin to dive into my painful memories and end up crying. For the same damn thing. If someone saw me in that 'trance' state where I stare blankly into the wall with my wet cheeks, they must have thought that I'm insane. I guess it's an addiction. It's a detoxification (I can say that, can't I?)

Words can hurt me. Say something rude to me, I'll remember it for years. I'm vulnerable like that. I kinda hate myself too. For allowing myself to get offended easily over words but I can't help it. Especially when it comes to physical criticism. I try really hard to restrain myself from criticise someone's physical because I realize that it is a sensitive issue. And rude too. So when I manage not to say anything about others body figure (for instance), I get mad (like really mad) when other people can't even stop themselves from criticise my skin, my lips (yeah I got dry lips for years, even when I drink lots of water) and my body. Fuhh. I might act like I don't give a damn when they said it to my face, but when the door is closed, I shed tears over those hurtful words. 

Melanie Martinez's music is creepy and disturbing, just the way I like it.

I can relate this to Melanie Martinez's song called Cry Baby. She wrote that song because it portrays her personality. She is extremely sensitive and tend to be triggered easily which consequently ends in tears. (Oh well she's just like me)

You seem to replace

Your brain with your heart

You take things so hard

And then you fall apart

You try to explain

But before you can start

Those cry baby tears

Come out of the dark

Someone's turning the handle

To that faucet in your eyes

They're pouring out

Where everyone can see

You're one of a kind

And no one understands

But those cry baby tears

Keep coming back again

Attachment

I have so many things to do this holiday. But I'm procrastinating. I could lay on my bed, browsing Facebook, YouTube, Instagram and waiting for Years And Years to release their album, Communion (which is today) for hours. What am I doing with my life? 

I have so many books to read. I need to brush up my Adobe Photoshop skill (because I'm going to spend hours next semester editing poster for every St John's meeting). I should start brainstorming story line for a short story for a book project with my TESOLians friends and lecturer. I was surprised when the lecturer said she liked my short stories included in my assignment for her subject. God, that was unexpected. Because those short stories were ... cheesy, I guess (Honestly, I wrote them when I was in form 5 for my English exam paper and school's magazine). These days, I don't set writing fictions as my priority anymore no matter how much Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl inspired me to start writing again. So pathetic, I know. 

There's this book that I've always wanted to read. The Music Made Me Do It. I bought it in the first heartbeat (I just had to buy it! Because it relates music in Islam's perspective). At times, I go through the book, stumble upon interesting pages and then unintentionally come to its conclusion. Music is not being approved in this book context. Of course. Being a huge fan of music for years, I admit that it's hard to get rid of this habit of listening to music frequently. I listen to music in the car. I listen to music on my way to class. I listen to music while doing chores. I listen to music while studying. I AM LISTENING TO MUSIC RIGHT NOW. It becomes a part of me. *sigh

I regard music as my time machine. Whenever I listen to old, outdated but famous songs, I can point out the years the songs came out and my personal moments with them. It's crazy I know but music is my soundtrack. Every moment has its own soundtrack. Sometime, I can be in the state of ecstasy whenever I plug in my earphones (especially when I listen to Years And Years's Desire). 

I can't hear you~

Sometime, It's easier to shut everyone out by simply listening to music. When I press PLAY, it means, I don't want to communicate with human being verbally, I don't want to say Hello in the hallway and everything seems surreal. I embrace music the way music embraces the introverted, social anxiety sides of me. 

Because music is my little secret.

I keep searching for tracks that will quench my thirst in music. Music that understands my sadness. Music that defines true love. Music that would put in my dancing shoes. No matter how many years I've spent searching for that, deep down I realize that I'll never find it. I know but I am in denial. I am too attached to music. I need to break this bad habit. 

The journey might be ... long. But, I'm on my way.