Bila Orang Tak Selalu Blog, Blog!

We all knew it was coming. Change. A good friend of mine tells me I am a reflective. And when one, like me, is given (forced to, actually, to be more precise) the opportunity to walk 30 minutes worth of panoramic Thames, Big Ben, the great British Airways London Eye, to school everyday; most of the time, alone... one reflects.

So when I reflect, I do many things.

I recall what I was like before.

I assess whether what I was before, was really what I wanted, what I think I wanted, or what I didn't realize about myself.

I think of what I am like now.

And I assess whether what I am now, is really what I wanted, what I think I want, or what I don't realize about myself.

I think of what I want in the future.

And again, I assess whether what I want to be in the future, is really what I want to be, what I think I want to be, what I am going to be or what I don't realize is going to happen to me. Technically, this last bit is impossible as I cannot be consciously thinking about my not realizing what is going to happen to me, but that very fact that I am thinking about it, makes me realize that I reflect even when I predict.

I didn't even realize it at first. I was too busy looking for people to walk to school with. I was too busy thinking about the fact that this view, this very view my sister live her whole conscious harry-potter-filled teenage life to see, is the view I see everyday when I do the very simple task of walking to school. I know if I were to try to say what I think now, (and evidently write, now) it would be pretty mouthful.

So when I reflect, I do many things.

I ask myself whether London is going to be the London it used to be for me.

I ask myself whether everyone who was in that very exact position as I am in 1992, 1997, 2002 0r even 2006, first year student in this gigantic metropolitan, from Malaysia (acting cool and at home but secretly excited about being so blessed to to be able to walk on English grounds and enjoying top ranking varsity education) walking to and from school, looking across the river, whether they did what I am doing and thought what I am thinking.

I then assessed whether walking on English grounds were really a blessing.

Or is it rather a test.

Then I ask myself what's so "blessed" about living in London because London used to be the London that it seemed in Malaysia, the London that takes a 12-hour plane ride and substantial finances to walk on, and not the London that it is now, which is the epitome of grumpy weather, guilty expensive coffee sittings and Sainsbury's frozen dinner evenings.

I used to sing until it bothered my college housemates. I used to sing in the shower, on early morning studying stints, back from daily Badminton after a tiring A-Level day. I used to sing along to the vast multitude of female singers that offer tunes so captivating just by chanting notes. They just generally have better voices as far as good-in-my-ear is concerned. They do. I used to sing along to them. I used to think I was not bad.

Today, I listened to Michelle Branch on my iPod, on a typical walk back to Bankside, from school, looking at the panorama London Eye and Big Ben never fail to offer me everyday. I sang along. I actually pulled out an earphone, and sang to myself, like I used to and listened to my own voice and criticized myself, as always, as before. And then I realized that it has been 2 months. Too short and too long at the same time.

And so I reflect, and I do many things.

I ask myself why has time passed by so fast, not the least bit merciful to my slow ability to sink in the changes I have gone through.

I ask myself why has time passed by so fast, not the least bit merciful to my slow ability to sink in the changes I am going through.

I ask myself why has time passed by so fast, not the least bit merciful to my slow ability to sink in the fact that it will all end so soon, I wouldn't realize it.

I ask myself why has time passed by so fast, not the least bit merciful to my slow ability to sink in the thought that I do not know what to feel and how to act when it ends.

I ask myself, what is IT really? And why am I ever so afraid that it is ending soon and that is it really all I want in my life and that it ending would mean the end of what I have been looking for my whole life.

I ask myself, what did those who walked the path I walked, the path by the Thames to the LSE as well as my life path, think when it ended for them?

Again, what is IT?

Is IT living abroad, away from home and "finding yourself" in the most scary-unsure-exciting way ever? Is studying abroad in a fancy-named institution ALL I want in life (just like I did just about 3 years ago)?

I don't know if I will ever realize the magnitude of change I am going through.

My thinking, my actions, my approach, my views.

I don't know.

For starters, I don't know why I don't sing anymore.