Welcome to the world of the employed. Thank goodness I am not a bum anymore. Today marks my third week of training, and the onset of the flurry of migraines I shall expect and deal with.
Haaaaay. Life goes on. Like what many people would say, "If it doesn't kill you, it's gonna make you stronger." On that note, I start my piece.
In a nutshell, this entry screams the realization that I never thought two weeks of BST would actually make a difference in my life. I used to think it was just something I'd sleep through, a little something that will bore me to death. But, alas, I was wrong. As I attended class, the magic of enjoying work unfolded right in front of my eyes. Despite being the outspoken nut that I am, I am left amazed at what had transpired for the last two weeks of my existence. I gained so much more than I could ever have imagined, thanks to my new-found friends, colleagues (collage? ;p), and educators in and out of the office.
This is the supposed last written assessment we would submit, but our "facilitator" asked us to keep it instead. It summons a multitude of emotions, of course, and I had to fake sanity while reading it. It makes me feel nice, though, that people respond to what I wrote, though I originally thought it made how I am the epitome of imperfect.
With a special request by my day-long partner, Mia, i post this...
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BEGIN with the END in mind. Always.
It has been a long-standing statement that we should “live life to the fullest.” No one, in my opinion, has ever achieved someone else’s standards of fulfilment. For as much as we try to be the “fulfilled being” they think we should be, we can’t. We can only reach the extent of fulfilment we have set for ourselves.
When I think about actually attaining fulfilment, I remember all my hopes and dreams, and the million things more I want to get to feel that I’ve made it. But it would be too idealistic to believe that every whim I have is attainable.
Now that I know better, I see my fulfilment and success in the intangible aspects I can live up to and imbibe in everything I do. I want to be remembered by my family as the daughter who cared, the one who was there when things didn't go right. I want to be seen as the one who made life bearable for everyone (even to my friends J), and the sister who thought of others more than she did herself. I want to be seen as the one who made mistakes but was not scared to own up to it, as the imperfect daughter and sister who brought sadness and disappointment to the house, but tried her hardest to make things right. I want my family to believe I tried to be perfect, but couldn't, that's why they loved me anyway and saw me as perfect… in a very imperfect way.
I want my friends to remember me as the one who had fun, but made sense; a good person who never failed to lend a helping hand or a shoulder to lean on. I want to be seen as someone who was there, and who gave herself to the people she cared about the most. I want them to remember that I looked out for them, and shared their hell with them. I want to be the imperfect friend they fought with, the one who was brave enough to stress the times when she made mistakes herself. Above all, I want everyone to remember me, not as the successful singer, dancer, or actress I want to be, not as the doctor or psychologist I will try to be, but the “imperfect success” who found fulfilment in surpassing life’s challenges with a smile on her face.J
