One too many goals, that measure of your worth, to seek your weight in gold.

It has been a big fear of mine for the longest time (bigger than public speaking even) that if I should one day dare to put in effort into something I'm passionate about and come up short (pun!), there would be no one to blame but myself. In fact, one of my dreams is to write a novel. And there are so many ideas swimming around in my head which I desperately want to put to paper. But there is still this fear. This incorrigible paralyzing fear, that god forbid I should actually decide to pursue something I want and it turns out to be a mediocre piece of toerag, that will be all that's left to define me. My gravestone will read:

"Rachel Chan 1988 -
Daughter, Sister, Friend and
Toerag.
No real accomplishments, but I'm sure if you knew her you would find her quite delightful.
Oh well."

I'm a little lost, to be honest. I know lots of people* who use fear as a motivating tool, but I just haven't found my own courage yet.

It is the teaching break now, and the assignments are piling in. So if I don't blog for awhile, please don't think I killed myself. Despite timing.

*Okay! Clearly I lied. I don't actually know anyone like that, but I was trying to prove a point.

If they ask why we left in the first place, say we were young and so in love, and I guess we just needed the space.

I haven't written in so long. Mostly because I've been so busy with moving and assignments. (You lie!) Okay, so I've been occupied by other things. I'm quite amused by how many people's birthdays are in September. My friend's theory is that people tend to let their guard down during Christmas parties (which I find is a hilarious and perfectly legitimate reason).

Incidentally, I love reading the handwritten comments on my essays. Seeing the marker's handwriting makes me feel like someone other than a robot has read my scribblings, and that jazzes me to no end. I keep all my essays in a box under my bed where they receive a semi-annual dusting. (Okay, obviously I made that up. I don't know where half my essays have gone.)

Speaking of weird habits, I have never been embarrassed by the fact that I am quite short (even when random people insist on walking into me) or the fact that I speak with a strong Singaporean accent (or so I am told). It is these shortcomings that make me comfortable in my strange little world. But my stubbornness these days has reached new and unfortunate heights. Yesterday I spent hours walking around 5 different suburbs because I refused to take a bus (also partly because my new housemate told me a horror story about a bus). I still pester my friends to go swimming with me (none of whom are silly enough to), and I continually allow myself to spend hour after hour playing with the fonts and margins on my finished essays. I don't know why I am the way I am sometimes, but I'm working on it.

I'm going to Japan in January with my buddy Shan and I must say, I'm greatly looking forward to it. It'll be for about a fortnight, and we'll be going to Osaka, Kyoto, Nagoya and Tokyo. I even planned some time to hang out by myself. Hopefully I won't get too lost.

My English tutorials are wonderful. Like a weekly book club. Did you know Persuasion was originally titled The Elliots? The person who told me was actually a middle-aged plumber from Queensland. People just never cease to surprise me. Sitting in that room always makes me feel somewhat inadequate. I'm probably the most boring person to be, with no definite dreams or accomplishments. Just a silly foreign kid, a little homesick and dreaming of great things.

That's it for now. Have a nice week!