I remember at age 10, I was addicted to a certain adventure series named TKKG, about four German teenagers who sneaked out of school, chased criminals, flirted, basically kicked ass in all meaningful senses. I remember my anxious longing to grow up fast, to be 15 and full moon, so I could sneak out and chase criminals and do all these great things too. Well - so I realized later this Don Quixote complex - as age 15 rolled around, while I did in fact sneak out of school numerous times, this action resulted in many spitting scoldings; and I still did not find any criminal that I could safely chase let alone kick ass.
Oh well.
When my friends saw my passport picture at age 15, they were further convinced of the myth that Asians age less fast than the rest of humankind. In fact, I did look much older at 15 years-old than I do now at 20. All of us Asians out there however know to ourselves that myth is but myth. I for example am quite convinced that the delayed aging has nothing to do with my yellow undertone but everything to do with my sleep and fulfillment.
At 20, and a senior in college, I was suddenly wind-striken to realize: I am young. In fact, so young. The realization, seemingly simple, is revolutionary to someone like me, who has anguished - and took pride - in being more mature/experienced than most peers, even certain older people. I am surprised, and somewhat disturbed, to learn that I am more and more carefree and nonchalant, more and more optimistic about rosy future and lasting love, that I love the way it is now and am reluctant to reverse - even at the expense of some higher purposes. Instead of power, responsibility and burden, I feel light headed and light feeted, in denial of pain or worries or fear.
It's bad.
I am a happiness junkie. I'm overdosed with laughter and my veins are caked with the cocaine of love. But oh how lovely it feels!
And precisely this - not my tailored resume nor my many econometrics model - is my much-valued liberal arts education. What a disheartening thought to have to graduate.
Oh well.
When my friends saw my passport picture at age 15, they were further convinced of the myth that Asians age less fast than the rest of humankind. In fact, I did look much older at 15 years-old than I do now at 20. All of us Asians out there however know to ourselves that myth is but myth. I for example am quite convinced that the delayed aging has nothing to do with my yellow undertone but everything to do with my sleep and fulfillment.
At 20, and a senior in college, I was suddenly wind-striken to realize: I am young. In fact, so young. The realization, seemingly simple, is revolutionary to someone like me, who has anguished - and took pride - in being more mature/experienced than most peers, even certain older people. I am surprised, and somewhat disturbed, to learn that I am more and more carefree and nonchalant, more and more optimistic about rosy future and lasting love, that I love the way it is now and am reluctant to reverse - even at the expense of some higher purposes. Instead of power, responsibility and burden, I feel light headed and light feeted, in denial of pain or worries or fear.
It's bad.
I am a happiness junkie. I'm overdosed with laughter and my veins are caked with the cocaine of love. But oh how lovely it feels!
And precisely this - not my tailored resume nor my many econometrics model - is my much-valued liberal arts education. What a disheartening thought to have to graduate.
