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Which Sesame Street Muppet Are You?

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Its strange how the most agonizing decisions in your life are seldom the most important. For the important ones, what you’re supposed to do is already laid out in black and white, hence, things like selection of schools are a breeze, either because we are too young to comprehend what’s happening, or too old and jaded to give a damm.

The true source of our wonderful migraines and headaches are the little minor decisions that get blow up into epic proportions after a horrible period of indecision. A classic would be the age old “where to eat lunch?” dilemma. Innocent enough, yet this question sees many a group of lunch goers literally stoning along the pavement as they wait for someone to make up their minds.

While lunch serves (no pun intended) as a candid example, the multitude of decision centered around or involving love in anyway will forever be a mish mash of indecisiveness. Getting into a relationship for example… even in my happiest days with vonnie, some naggy and infernal part of my brain will annoy me with the question of what would I be like now if I were still single and had to asked von? Happier? Sadder?

And recently, I have to make the call, which I prayed I would never need to. Between friendship and love, I had tried to play both sides and make everyone happy, but as someone told me… I’m not vash the stampede. And I could only choose love. Yet in the end, I’m confiding in the choice I did not choose… how bitterly ironic.

Sigh,… Sara and Gm if you’re reading this… sorry about last night. My sister usurped my usage of the computer to play gunbound… joy.

The simple truth of the matter is that some of us don’t live to be the men that we are expected to be. I heard this line in Master And Commander, and it rang a bell somewhere deep down. Honestly speaking, I have on the foggiest notions of what exactly that bell is or what it mean, but still… the line stuck.

Looking at myself, I realized that if I were in a movie, I wouldn’t be a main character. I don’t expect things from people, but everyone else expects something from me. And the past year has just been a farrago of expectations sweeping past each other, mingling, clashing and moving about in an intricate, if not pointless manner. To the people in CJC, I’m the guy who doesn’t study but still manages to past. I’m the guy that is nice and popular with everyone, and keep everyone entertained. Am I really popular? Or just a mere plaything that amuses everyone, bent on their lives as they are? Even then, the heavy burden of up holding what I perceive as their expectations of me weighs down on me. Everywhere I go, I find myself changing to fit the situation. When I step out of CJC into say scouts, I become the happy go lucky “heck-care/bo-chap” venture that is only slightly haunted by a loss 2 years back. To my sisters, I have to be the world wise, slightly cocky brother always there for support and encouragement. To my dad, I’m to be the responsible first born; now coming of age. God knows what my mum thinks. To gm and Sara, I’m the snag, to Russell and co. I’m the ever ready LAN buddy. To an amusing bunch of guys on the Internet, I am a ravishing Asian beauty.

While typing all that, the thought that kept going through my head was whether such perceptions of people’s expectations real? Or are they merely a happy illusion that I’ve created to prove my self worth to an insipid bunch of dotards who don’t even care? Do they people at CJC really give a rats ass about me? Am I truly that sanguine figure that I imagine myself to be or just an amusing person whom people take pity upon? Does Russell really expect anything more from me other than to feed his insatiable hunger for LAN?

Then, the next though sets in. What if I fail to live up to these expectations? In retrospect, most of what I do seems to be just to live up to such expectations (imaginary or otherwise) to make people happy. In essence, I’m a pathetic soul who fears disappointment from others… reliant on others to dispense praise and punishment as their whims fancy. All in all… am I no better than Johnson?

Finally, rigor mortis sets in. Why the hell am I writing this in the first place? Certainly, it would change nothing. Tomorrow, I will wake up and continue to try to appease people, just to see that smile or hear that thanks. I won’t grow a reinforced steel spine and suddenly learn to deflect what people think of me. Is there a point?