And It All Comes Down To This

It's been 3 months now into the year 2012. Maybe it's a bit too early, but seriously, things have been pretty hectic around here. The 9th grade really kicked itself up a notch by throwing an array of tests, quizzes, Tryouts, Practical Exams and drama, and I must say I'm a bit overwhelmed.

Most overwhelming thing of all? Well, I'm not sure if I've written anything about here before, but I signed myself up for a scholarship application in Singapore. And guess what? I got it.

Now, before you throw congratulations around, I'm still not sure how I feel about this scholarship thing, about a month later since signing a damn contract.

First of all, the test was a bit... easy. Mathematics weren't always my forte, but the limited time also was a main factor in me not finishing the 2 hour test of 30 something questions. The English one was also surprisingly easy. The other applicants in my school took a special preparation course called Ignatius, and the kind of question they gave them were far more advanced then what was being tested.

I honestly did not expect me to get a chance at that scholarship. I mean, I was in the mindset that the standards would be very high. And passing, well... makes you wonder doesn't it?

After the written tests, I was asked to come to Hotel Atalia for an interview. I skip school the next day, but it turns out I have no ride. Rotten luck, you'd probably think, right? Wrong. I was thinking it was the world conspiring, strengthening the idea that this scholarship thing wasn't meant to be.

And then my Mom goes into super mode and orders us a cab. Interviews weren't that nerve-wracking, though the wait was boring and prolonged. Speaking in English was definitely an advantage, and a few hours later the results were posted and ta-daa! My name was on it.

Of course there was some sense of mirth. I practically tried bailing on interviews, I get the scholarship anyway. Twisted kind of punishment, I suppose. Then there was a tad sense of accomplishment. I did it. I actually got it. Then of course, the whole ease of it all nagged a the back of my mind, and I was starting to wonder if it was going to be worth it in the end.

So why did I end up signing my name? Not for personal reasons, obviously.

When I first considered applying, I asked my parents, of course. But as usual, they provided adequate freedom and close to no input. So I figured I'd apply. I didn't expect to get it, anyway. If I did, did that mean I have to take it? I later found out that I sort of had to. Something to do with courtesy and social niceties and avoid being blacklisted, which I still cannot manage to fully comprehend (inner sociopath talking, guys).

I also pondered on the slim chance that I did get accepted. A few factors did jump at me. First, the financial burden would be almost non-existent. On a full scholarship. That meant my parents wouldn't have to spent so much money on my education. Speaking form the heart, my family's not exactly poor, but their not like most kids whose parents make so much more.

I'm taking this scholarship more for them than me. I can still remember the look on my Mom's face when I told her. She looked so happy, so relieved. She also looked at me so... proud.

Sure, the prospect of living on my own, more independantly, appealed to me, as I continued to talk myself into this. But it also seemed a bit lonely. A proper school, with proper facilities and a better curriculum, would help bring out the best in me. Wasn't I always feeling so unchallenged here? But it also seems like a lot of pressure.

When ever I feel like bailing, giving up, not set myself up for a life of stress and expectations of perfection, and opt for settling for a live a little more ordinary. A little more safe.

Hell. What was I thinking? I'm through with being ordinary. I want to be extraordinary. I want to go far.

But as much as I want to be the best I can be, something keeps on asking me to stay. My family. I practically act as the glue for the disfunctionality. If I left, how long would they last before they unravel?

Would it be worth it to go abroad, study, become highly-educated and successful and perhaps rich and famous, but leaving my family behind albeit for just a few years? Or would it be better to stay and just look after them, settle for being an auto-dictact and learn about the world from the confines of home, as long as I stayed with family?

I'm getting a little emo here, I know. In hindsight, it might be better to vent here than to start talking to a skull.


-- Planning Out The Future, Karin Novelia


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