Neither Here Nor There...

Today I am not a student, although I’ll find my way back hopefully soon. I guess I haven’t been one for a while now. It’s funny how things turn on a slow dime sometimes. When I first came to Oxford, I was an enthusiastic student who had some kind of academic horizon before me, but by the time I returned to “pursue my studies,” I became more of something else, and less of another: I fell in love and found joy through it. My life is a zero sum game: my A-student column has been subtraced from, and the results have been added to another column. Now I am somewhere in the middle of the deep end, being pulled away from my original aspirations, away from being strictly in my head, and I love feeling again.

My father warned me not to forget why I came, and I didn’t: love brought me back, and school was the means to achieve it. I just didn’t know any better at the time, and now I’m quite ashamed of myself. I’ve painted myself into a corner for denying the real reason I returned. When you’re my age – I’m at the half-way point right now – and when life has been loveless and barren – when love happens, it takes precedence because of the connection that is made with someone as opposed to something. I am facing the problematic question of knowing what my limits are. Today, I am less of a student than a lover, and surely not all that I can be in either arena. I am good at doing one thing thoroughly well, but rarely succeed at doing more than one thing at a time; multitasking is not my strong suit. I have known academic excellence, and have hit a bump in the road which has undermined my confidence and highlighted my long-perceived ineptitudes.

In the last communiqué to me, my father said, “Try really hard.” I’m not sure if I can (try harder) right now – more than I already am. But life isn’t fair, and all my choices have led me here to a strange crossroad that I’ve faintly seen before. If I could talk to him about it, I sometimes think it would help, but I’ve burned that bridge (with strong consternations as proof before I came back). If I could share with my parents what love has been like for me, I think I would feel less guilty about being in love and trying to make it all work for everyone. But an old warning they faced now faces me: "you made your bed, and now you must sleep in it." I wouldn’t take anything back; circumstances are such that the only way to keep love is to continue my education. I would pay that price again and again for what I have now; unfortunately the financial price has been paid by my family and I have to find my own way to make it work in the long-run.

* * * * *

There is boredom in the routine of doing something for too long; patterns set in, the picture gets muddied if not too clear, and joy gets stripped away from what could have otherwise been beautiful. Producing something in the image of something else or in others’ preconceived ideas of the world is boring, though no excuse for doing poorly in anything. Creating something for the purpose of art is joy; I must muddle my way through that boredom and proceed, as I always have, although I desperately want a respite. I am sure such notice will bring heartache to my family because they are depending on me to do well, and counting on me not to be whisked away by petty things such as love.

What happens when the original premise is weakened, and something unexpected grows into the stuff of dreams? I cannot stay here without the original premise for I am merely a guest, and therefore unable to remain with the one I love without it. What a fool I am! I have spent the better part of four years depending on my academic excellence to define me, and today, I don’t have that crutch to lean on; today I am just a person who is struggling to make it in this strange and foreign land. My heart is not easily divided. I have built up a wonderful academic resume, and gotten this far, and life has now presented me with the most unknown element known to humankind. I am no longer “smart” or “clever,” but just average, if not below average, and my star does not burn as bright as it once did. On the other front, however, I am greatly rewarded and blessed. I know that someone loves me; I have many wonderful friends who I cherish and wish to keep.

For this, I have lost my own family in a sense, and sometimes, that burden is more than I can bear for they are no longer a part of the goings-on in my life. I have failed them and hurt them by coming here as I did for I am their only child. I expect no forgiveness on that front for they have given me so much and I have given back far too little to balance the equation. I can see that from their perspective, there is a point where happiness is an irrelevant pursuit if it serves no physical purpose. There is no one to blame but myself, and only I can rescue myself from what lies ahead. I wish I wasn’t so alone right now… Things will come to pass as they will.