So Not Ready

"11th grade..that's like Form 5 for me..and in Hong Kong, after Form 5, most would go out and work," my father reflected out loud. I met these words with silent shock.

My father was raised in the urban mess of Hong Kong in the years when Britain had considerable influence in virtually every aspect of Cantonese life. As a result, the educational system was quite British as well, and Form 5 was the grade that nearly all men reached before settling in for economically-driven adult lives. To hear that 11th grade was the American version of Form 5 seemed surreal to me: I am most certainly not ready to move out, get a job, and start a family.

Junior year has been hectic, busy, relentless. Filled to the brim and about to burst, the myopic activities my life currently revolves around fundamentally leaves me unprepared for the much larger picture. How to live out there in the big world where there isn't a friendly Harker teacher to help me along the way.

Looks like I have a long year ahead of me.

Today, I had the pleasure of sitting in the back loading zone for about half an hour, waiting for my ride who was stuck in traffic. While I watched parents arrive and students pile into the passenger seats or take over the driver's side, I amused myself by looking at how the drivers would proceed in leaving the pick-up zone. (Pathetic, I know) Most would back up before making the turn to exit, but the curious thing was, most cars could fit simply by turning without backing up. But I knew what held them back, to take that extra precaution, because though it was such a mediocre act in the mess of everything else, I'd found the perfect reflection of the same apprehension in everything we do.

For centuries, the future has been regarded as something ominous hanging above our heads, waiting for the exact moment to explode. The uncertainty of each forthcoming minute creates a tension, a blossoming fear of what was going to happen to us at the end of those 60 seconds...

Oracles, fortune-tellers, palm-readers -- all would attempt to tell of your future, comfort you by making the unknown known, but the truth is: they know nothing. We approach life with a certain lack of perception, a blindness that renders us unable to see through the haze. And that explains why so many people make conservative decisions that would ultimately ensure survival. Conservative actions such as tentatively backing up before making an already-safe turn.

Despite the pessimism that underlies this so far, there's a bright side, just as there always is. What would life be without taking chances? The most beautiful things can come from good fortune. What would love be without challenges or mistakes? It would become nothing for without error, love would be a burnt-out fuse.

There are probably some who will take this and go out living with a grain of salt. But that's not what I plan to do or what I intended. Opportunities await, and I want to do a bit of my own exploring. Experiment with luck, with happiness, with love. Cause remember, in the end, there's always second chances.

Head vs. Heart

One of my close guy friends asked me today, "Why are girls so fickle?" I've been mulling over those words as the day flew by and I realized that his question, though denigrating, was a very good one.

Why is it that so many times in so many different situations, our heads tell us one thing while our hearts tell us another? Reason versus Emotion. In addition to being a phrase taught in AP US History in regards to the Enlightenment and the Great Awakening, these two simple words underly every decision that we make, whether it be deciding which savoring candy to buy at 711 or which person you'll love for the rest of your life.

Over the years, I've found myself in this exact sticky situation: should I listen my practical voice or what my heart is telling me? Taking a look at the words of wisdom from eclectic sources:

Disney tells their viewers at a young age to follow their hearts because for some reason, every single time the main character does so, he or she always ends up with quite a happy ending. By the time those little children grow up to be about my age, believe me, that happy ending seems fairly unattainable.

Novels, from the most contemporary to the most classic, seem to romanticize and create this vivid variation of Cinderella's fairytale ending. They follow the same trend as Disney, spelling out clearly to their readers that the heart and satisfaction is oftentimes much more important.

I, on the other hand, by following my heart, have fallen into many a trap. Don't get me wrong: following your heart gives you that Disney-guaranteed self-satisfaction. But love, in the strangest of ways, muddles the most practical of people and brings out the deist side in all of us.

On one hand, I don't see what's wrong with letting our emotions take us over once in a while. But on the other hand, it always ends in nothing but tears and heartbreak. Even though we hate to admit it, we all make mistakes when it comes to listening to our heads or our hearts.

I guess I'll never really understand.