I'd like to sing, to dream, to do.

I’d like to sing a song of myself. But I’m never wholly sure exactly who that self might be. Sometimes I seem like a stereotype of myself—the quiet English major wearing glasses, dressing the part in skirts and dowdy hand-me-downs. Who else would use the word “dowdy”? To my older sister, I am eternally her “mei-mei”, her little sister that she will always fiercely protect and try to control. To my younger sister, I am her “jei-jei”— her older sister who will fiercely protect and try to control. I am the middle and am often neutral like Switzerland on most issues. At times, I bubble forth with wit and laughter and joy and other times I am silent, thoughtful and moody.

When I was little, I used to believe that I might wake up as a different person—transformed into one of the characters from a book. It wasn’t that I disliked myself—I just wondered what it was like to live elswhere, in someone else’s head—another world besides my own. I guess that’s why I am an English major, one who deals with words and other worlds of ideas and imagination. Put like that, it sounds very noble and academic but words are deceiving. The mind is a dark labyrinth to wander in and the search for meaning and love is lonely and often meaningless. I’m only twenty-one but I was born old. I can’t wait for retirement and I haven’t yet begun the work. Most people would call this lazy. I guess I’m a waiter and a dreamer who dreams of doing.