August 30th 2016

I’m a fan of school supplies, but not of school.

As a little girl I’ve always anticipated the first day. I woke up at 4 in the morning to join my father sitting in the middle of the family room floor. Still dark outside, the dimmest light was on and I remember the cozy feeling of helping check off lists and organize composition notebooks and assorted pens, pencils, and folders to designated classes.

It used to be a tradition of ours but as I grew older, I woke up later. I grew lazier and the excitement ceased to consume me. Last minute Staple runs became the norm.

My senior year of high school starts this September and in a blink of an eye I’ll be in a red gown accepting my diploma. I’m neither excited nor scared. I feel reluctant.

If not for my recent love interest and his encouragement, I wouldn’t be inspired to try half as hard as I am. Every time I bring up my education, it’s like talking to a parent instead of a friend. He doesn’t complain with me. He says, “Value all this. I wish I did. You’ll need the discipline later. Do what you love, not what you’re told to.”

**Side note, I appreciate the level-headed advice and a responsible man that’s incredibly sexy. 

I’ve already been given the speech about education and careers and how everyone wished they had taken school seriously, to have been successful one day. However, high school is a lie. The only hurdle I have to jump is to be accepted to a university, where real education begins.

The last thing I imagined I’d be doing is commuting. Settling for a community college for a little then transferring. At the age of 11, I thought I knew what I was doing.

Music Education. I had taught myself how to play all kinds of instruments. I loved teaching and I loved music. Wasn’t it perfect?

No.

Harsh reality of employment stomped my fantasy into a mound of broken porcelain pieces.

To make things worse, take a Filipino mother and a privileged white father into account.

I swear to you, the first thing a Filipino asks is “Are you studying nursing?” Um, I’m not planning to. “Oh, so you’re going to be a doctor?” No, I was actually thinking – “What kind of science are you going into?”

I caved. The closest thing to science that I enjoy is Food Science. I wouldn’t mind standing in a lab all day chemically developing and testing food. Analyzing the nutritional value and all that jazz.

Will I regret these decisions? Did I make them for myself or did someone else make them for me?

 

 

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