Yesterday's story today.

"remember son, your life plays out completely by your own actions and deeds. Lack the conviction and you fall short of your dream." Said my dad as he walked up the stairs. "But wait, I haven't even-"" I waited for you son, but you didn't come home on time. so now the choice is all up to you." and the stout middle aged man I know as my dad disappeared up the stairs.

"screw."
I fell back onto the couch, resigned to the fact that he wasn't hearing me in his epic moment. Hell, I actually envied his opportunity, telling someone that their destiny and fate was all in their hands, and smiling to myself as they're left cringing at the prospect of having the gun shoved in their hands. I was like my father in that sense, reveling in the fun of messing with people's heads. But as usual, few things still sound awesome when you're on the receiving end.

To top things off then, I unconsciously pushed a friend too far off the edge, inciting a barrage of built up anger at my incessant prodding of their principles and virtues. I did what I could to mend the situation then, and was rewarded an acceptance of my apology. Still, this didn't help the overall negative feeling of the moment, if anything at all, amplified that I had allowed my own emotions to affect another in an adverse way.(On normal occasions though, I would be more likely to not give a crap, but this was a friend, and as a rule I had to treat friends a little nicer than I do to normal people.)

I walked down to the sink and gave my face a wash. My face was hot, like after a long drinking party with my dad's side of the family or eating my grandma's Ka Chang Ma (it's a Hakka dish that's marinated in a BIT of rice wine... although I do tend to tip the bottle a BIT more than normal.), and the feeling of the cold water splashing over my face felt good. Still, the term "wash away one's problems"wasn't gonna happen with a physical attempt so I got back to my couch to think of a suitable way to deal with the problem, quite to my displeasure not in a drunken way.

The thing about having the gun in your hand is that there's no one to blame for whatever you do, and the prospect is wracking my nerves worse than anything those singing demon chipmunks ever could.
My dad had thrown down (not literally thankfully) two options on the table, Study degree in Swinburne then go for a masters, or A levels in KL with my friends, Degree in Singapore, then work for a while until I have enough cash for the masters. I knew which one I wanted, but I also knew what exactly I would imply. Let's face it, The second option would appeal to anyone in my situation; friends for a good part of the first two years, the course I want, and I get the masters eventually anyway. But like all things that sound too good to be true, there was a catch; 'the working for a while' part. I don't pride myself for being the hardworking type, even less as a responsible person. Could I really do that? Stick to the dream? What if I'm bogged down by the normalities of a working life? what if I never earn the money I need? What if I had a family within those years while I work? Would I abandon them all just to pursue it? Would the responsibilities of normal living finally tie me down and doom me to the same fate as my dad? He gave up his dream for his family. Would I be forced one day to make the same final decision like him so long ago?

I got myself in this mess effectively, the gun in hand I mean. But hard credit for forcing me into making this decision, the one thing I have been trying to avoid for weeks can be totally credited to that man, my dad. He's a master manipulator and he knows it, casually pushing me into a corner with the ease of a practiced diplomat and shoving the gun in my hand; either declare I'll follow through with my dream all the way, or admit I'm a coward and do it the easy and safe way. Any normal person would call me an idiot, tell me to swallow my pride and just do it safe. I'd probably respond pithily in a flash of anger; partly because they didn't understand why I do what I do, mostly for calling me an idiot.

Almost simultaneously to thinking that statement I broke into a sneezing fit. Wonderful, another thing to fuck up my day I thought to myself, just wonderful. I thought about just gong to sleep, but I had to decide that night. So I ignored my own violent sneezing as I thought about my options.

I didn't feel like reminiscing about why and how I got myself into this position. It felt pointless, I was simply repeating to myself how I effectively got my own self to this indecisive crossroad. I asked myself one simple question; Can I really push myself to achieve what I wanted? can I trust myself not to fuck up my only shot at my dream?

I sighed suddenly, a realization hitting me in a rush of weary resignation; whether I trusted myself or not, I had to go through it the hard way.

It may seem strange to some, stupid to others, but hearing about how my dad fell short of his dream made me believe I couldn't do any less. The young must surpass the old, if mankind is to make any progress. I knew that my insane pride and annoyingly naive sense of honor wouldn't let me swallow my words back anyway. That's the problem when you have two different sides of your mind in conflict; the brasher side always wins. Fuck common sense, The stupid sense of honor screamed that I had to accomplish my goal no matter what, or it would nag and eat away at me to the grave if I gave in like any reasonable person would. sigh. I blame my younger self; always was a sucker for those heroes who didn't choose between the needs of the many over the needs of the few and simply hauled them all back to safety like the bad asses they were. It gave a child like me a sense of comfort back then, thinking that as long as we have faith and stand by our principles, we can defy any odds. This all unfortunately ended up being deeply ingrained into my psyche, so no matter how much the sensible cynical me sees the situation as pointless or silly bravado and tries to convince me so, my more wannabe heroic side repeatedly bangs it's case on my head yelling to just push the odds.

Well, to be honest that recklessness has done me some good. I find myself doing things I never thought I'd have the guts to do, None that I would list out at this conjuncture, and actually coming out alive (usually unscathed too. Usually.) Sooner or later though, I'm sure my luck will run out, and I sure hope to god it doesn't happen when I'm pursuing my dream.

Going over to the fridge, I tried to get myself a generous glass of milk, almost spilling it once as another sneezing fit coincidentally occurs just as I started pouring. To be honest, a glass of wine would've done better job of calming me down, but I would be nowhere near to clearing my mind and miles away from convincing my dad that the decision wasn't alcohol influenced, so good ol' calcium rich milk it is.

This decision felt momentous to me. Failure was no option, (then again neither was PMR or SPM, I think I can take comfort knowing I've done the one shot thing before. ) Neither was laxity. I had to prove to my dad I could do it.... No, I have to prove to myself I could do it.

Another wave of resignation swept over me. somehow deep inside me then I knew it'll be the only way I could ever slip into a simple life in the future with an easy conscience, knowing I accomplished what I had set out to do, and on a side bonus made my dad proud. ( And occupied with whatever game I would've designed, Him being as avid a gamer as I was)

My handphone shook itself off the table next to the couch due to the alarm, signifying that midnight had finally arrived. Not wanting to fall asleep in mass the next day, as I had to sit with my parents once again, got off my couch and walked up to my bedroom. Too tired to properly take a shower, I simply stumbled into bed and dozed off."