Becoming, Permanently

I live- but a ghostly reflection,
A phantom body
Of what I could be (and am).

I thrive- but an endless struggle
Beneath the clearest understanding,
The sheer clarity,
Like a sky on the sky.

I search- but a puzzling treat
To what I already know-
To savor, to redraw the choices.

I am a moving magic,
An ongoing revolution- to define,
Redefine my change, I say!

I am not perfect, but I,
I am to stay this way.

Entitlement

The not-so-simple direction
Not-so-simple perception
Argue simple,
Beat the solemn speech.

A psyche tips a drunken toast,
A mute stutter
To the kings of the hill,
Always starving and getting richer.

An unsimplified gown, trained
Unsimplified shoes higher
Tossed coiffed, unsimplified hair
All under a crown new currency forced
Upon this rarity
(it was complicated, before).

Now, she totters forth
For the crowds of simplified,
Feeling more and more a queen.

Modern Belles

Venus truly rises, at her best
Amid no stars, no light-
She never found herself vain.

Beauty after beauty,
Night after night
Finds itself vanquished, thus-
One after another fights,
Tangles for the spotlight
(Where there is none).

The ground is littered, dusty
With those who glitter, yet
We all must look up.

Oh, the irony!

I was suddenly compelled to think back into the past, today. I recalled a particularly significant quote that someone said to me in seventh grade. My older brother saw that I was getting a B- in Algebra I, as well as some pretty nasty looking grades on my tests. We sat down and had a talk. I literally cried before I was dragged to the sofa. He threatened to kick me out of the house if I didn't listen to him.

When I calmed down, he said (in Chinese), "Without math, you're not going to get anywhere in life. Maybe you'll become a writer, but you know that doesn't go far. All of the real jobs involve math. You must excell in math. You are a student, and your duty is to study. Is that too much to ask? What else are you supposed to do? What else should you really do in life?"

It's ironic in that I actually wouldn't mind having a writing career and doing nothing else. I actually like math, now. It's strange how bits and pieces of wisdom wear through the years, while other words prove to be more cruel than bright. I do agree with him at some points, but in others I simply can't see why someone would want to follow something other than what their being tells them (for the heart alone is not enough). It may not be a direct cause of misery, but I'm sure it's up there on the list.

In a sad way, the statement is not so ironic. I'm not going to be a full-time professional writer, despite my dreams. I really do want to be, though, and cold reality doesn't mean that I will never get what I want. Meaning, I'm going to try anyway. I think I'm going to major in both pharmacy and writing, if possible. If not, I can always have writing as my minor. It's not as if good writers really need a degree in creative writing to be good writers. More than once I've been mistaken for an English major ranging from 18 to 23 (because my other blog used to be strictly poetry/prose and said nothing about my personal life, at least for about five months), until I brought in a little bit of my annoying personal life with a sudden spurt of immaturity and I showed myself otherwise. That really taught me a lot about my dreams, though. They're more powerful that I can imagine.

I actually live by the idea that a student's duty is to be extremely studious, except I see more than that in the definition of a student. A student is not only a student in the eyes of the teacher, after all. A student is a student in the eyes of the world, in his or her own eyes, and in every aspect of his or her existence. A student's duty is not only to be faithful to the school system, but to be faithful to lessons of heart, society, and reason. All these make up the voice within. What is this voice, you ask? It is a mix of heart and reason, with mirrors and lights to make a nice show for the world to see. Yet, at best it is not a show. It has something that even the best reality shows will never have. It has personality as the mixing spoon. It can be either firmly gripped, mechanized by one of those new electronic blenders (though I feel quite sorry for people with this sort of grip on their lives), or left for the flies to suck at.

We are forever pupils, even after school and after we seem to know what ever we want and need to know. To me, even if my school life isn't up and great, this is what makes life worth living. We fall hard, but we're all heroes in the greatest way when we learn to get back up: we are our own heroes. Ironic, or no?