#mybellsseries

[mybellsssblog-blog]

#4 third time’s a charm

I have time to write but no time to actually check if thats the right saying. Third time’s really not the charm if you think about it. I would know, I’m the queen of being third.

If you didn’t know, I’m the third child of four children, and its definitely not the jackpot spot. But you may ask, what does the position matter when you’re in the middle, let alone the third? That’s basically it. No one really realizes the third child.

Firsts are always blamed for doing things that are not “setting an example” to the younger siblings. Lasts are always seen as the ones who get away with doing anything.

Both are true in my family.

Being a third child quite simply means being the forgotten one. That is the only thing I can really think of. But in my family, the first child is always the perfect one. She’s the one that can talk to people, that graduated from a good school, that got the job, that basically knows everyone. You would call her, the perfect one, even though my mom might think otherwise. She goes out, she gets drunk, she’s pretty wild, but she’s old enough to take care of herself, thats why my mom doesn’t really give a shit about her anymore. She’s the one everyone knows: all my moms friends, all my dads friends, all our family friends, even my aunts and uncles friends. Everyone knows her because she inherited what is said to be the lookalike of my grandfather, and therefore everyone thinks she’s going to be the successor of the generation.

The second child is the tall one. She’s the tallest one of the family, so of course people have to remember her. Doesn’t matter if they don’t remember her name, but she’s always known as the tall one, the skinny one, and most probably the prettiest one. Not to mention, her long term boyfriend that she brings to all family events, so everyone has to remember her. She’s the one that stands out with her Givenchy carry on and Gucci slides, cropped tank top and some high waisted jeans she stole from my closet, and of course just has to show off the items to, bluntly putting it, look superior. She’s also the one who shares a lot of her interests and opinions with my mom. Probably the closest mother-daughter relationship my mom will ever get. She basically loves looking rich, an easier way of putting it.

Then theres the last one. The youngest one, and the man of the family. Now without even explaining it, its already really easy to guess why he would be really remembered. He’s the one that will take on the legacy of my grandfather, and basically is pressured to go to military. He’s the one everyone will talk about regarding any military topics, disregarding the fact that he might not want to continue what my grandfather did. Totally uninterested in his interests and hobbies, everyone will only really tell him that he will do well after my grandfather, and that he will also go to military school and basically be my grandfather. Its pressuring for him, but still, he’s known as the man of the house, so its kind of hard to not remember him.

See where I’m going? What about me. What could the third child have to suffer through all this. Well, I don’t stand out. I’m just the third child with nothing to be proud of. I’m just the third child in between the perfect one and the man of the house. I’m the just the third child that everyone basically forgets about. “Oh, which one is this?” “Oh, what was your name again?” “Oh, who are you?” Doesn’t that make you want to leave the situation and just never return. Thats never a choice. I just have to suffer a full afternoon of questions regarding my name, while everyone else gets asked about their life. And to top it all off, I’m not even in university! Its like saying the ugly duckling doesn’t belong in the norm,

I know its all probably just an excuse and that I brought it onto myself. Like I should have done something innovative to stand out. I should’ve made the discovery of a planet to finally be known. Its like I should’ve been the president, and then I’ll be known.

Its just annoying, thats it. Sometimes all I really want is just to be remembered or even be cared for, the least.

[mybellsssblog-blog]

#3 decisions, decisions

So I’ve kinda come to realize what I really want in life. It took me awhile. In fact, it took me forever to try and find what the world was really offering to me. I tried many ways to hear a voice that would just tell me what to do or where to go. I tried many ways to forget it all and just focus on what I was doing now, but the truth was, I wasn’t doing anything— which resulted in me having to focus on what I needed to do future-wise.

So it got me to do a lot of thinking. Like, a lot. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night, so I just thought. I woke up too early, so I just thought. I would be done with all the things I needed to do during the day, so I just thought. It was a lot of pressure at first, but with all the time I had on my hands, I could do a lot of thinking. So, let me just break it down: the first stage of my train of thoughts was my future.

My future

This process took the longest period. It was basically me not doing anything for like 6 months, and exceeded until the last few months. So after finished my first semester of freshman year, I was out of school and enjoying the chill life in Bali with two of my closest friends. It was fun until I had to come back to the city and back to my mom pestering me about when and where I would start university. I was laid back about it at first, so my thought about this was extended to about 3 months in. So from December 2016 until February 2017, it was pretty chill and I didn’t really want to think about it, since my mom wasn’t panicking about it either. Then March came, and it was only a matter of time until summer, and after summer was the new intake for universities, which means I had to start searching.

By this time, I had already spoken with an agent at a university in Singapore, and talked to my mother about this, but obviously she was reluctant about it, as long as I took care of it myself. Which I did. I emailed a couple of people in Singapore, even about housing, and was very close to getting things done. By the end of March, I had sent in all my transcripts from high school and made the application payment, which surprisingly my mother was willing to do (I had plan B just in case she wouldn’t want to).

Then she knocked on my door a few days after telling me to apply to the Indonesian university. Without even asking whether I wanted to or not, she asked me to just go to the university’s website and applied. She left, and I starred into a blank space. I cried while doing it, but I did it. I applied for an entrance exam, sent in my transcripts, sent in the payment and was scheduled for the 3rd entrance exam that they were holding. We thought it was the last one, so I wouldn’t have any other choice if I failed this one but to go to the university in Singapore. So that was the plan I told everyone, I was going to fail the exam.

Jokes on me. Apparently there were a lot of students applying for the entrance exam that they decided to make five more sessions (really, chances), for students to apply. That was when I knew I was fucked. My mom came into my room to tell me that, and I just crashed on the bed not wanting to get up. I knew she was going to make me try and try until there was no more.

The first exam results came out and I failed. As expected. But the I found myself back on the site to apply for another exam session. Mind you, this was already April. I wasn’t going to take anymore chances, so I tried my best for this one, but as expected, I failed again.

The second part of my train of thought was more specific: my pride.

My pride

Really, it was more of my mom’s pride at first. But later on, I understood that it was going to be for my own good as well. This went on pretty quickly. I would say probably around a month (?). So I joined French classes in April, when I realized I really needed to get my brain working. And not long after, I went on a solo trip to fetch my sister in the US. So, while making new friends during my lessons, I started telling them why I’m not in uni and why my mother isn’t allowing me to live outside of Indonesia. They gave me advice, as I was the youngest in the class, and everyone was at least two years older than me. It was great; it was like free therapy and advice sessions. I loved it. That practically went on for three weeks.

Then I was off to the US of A. It was terrifying. Im okay with traveling alone, but to the US after all the never-ending articles about the country, I was terrified. When I landed I was relieved that I went through everything without being questioned. My trip after a week was amazing. I loved it there, despite how scared I always was to talk to the people and had to ask my sister to do everything, but other than that it was awesome.

But it just made me think about living anywhere else outside of Indonesia. I understand that the US is very different from living in, Singapore lets say, but it would’ve been really hard either way. In the end, I know that my dream is to live in Bali, Indonesia, because I have the responsibility to come back. I mean, yea it would be awesome to say “I go to university in Singapore,” rather than “I go to university in Indonesia,” and I would always have that mindset to think that anywhere, I mean anywhere is better than Indonesia.

I wasn’t entirely correct. Yes, there are lists on top of lists why anywhere else would be better than Indonesia, but in the end, this is where I grew up, and I guess this is where my pride should stand. At the end of it all, the past one and a half months (April until mid May when I returned from my US trip) had opened up my mindset about the country I come from. Something I never thought would needed convincing.

The last part was: the decision.

The decision

This is me making a final decision. Which just happened, more or less, yesterday. Its crazy to think that the people you never thought would help you make a decision, did, unintentionally. I never asked, but it just happened.

Three days ago I just got back from my US trip, which means back to reality. And I thought it was going to take me another month to figure out what I really want to do with my life. I did not expect what actually happened. First things first, the first thing my mom said to me when I got back was “ready to take another test,” I completely ignored what she said and went away saying “ready for another trip.” I was really annoyed at her for saying that. Was it really necessary? I did not enjoy my mother pestering me every minute when I was in the US and asking me what I was doing. I get it, she’s a mom, but it never really happened to me. So I ignored most of the texts, my sister on the other hand, the good daughter, replied her wit pictures and explanations, which all the more, just made me feel bad.

Anyways, back home, I met up with a friend from high school, and it was nice to just catch up. She told me a lot of what happened to other kids, and she knew a lot more, really because I didn’t give a shit about what other people were doing anywhere in the world. But anyways, she mentioned about some other kids who are also taking hospitality, and how much they hated it. Purely because it was more practical rather than theory. And when its more practical, you don’t learn shit. And it will lead to a lower rank in the real world in the future. She told me that she wouldn’t want to see her high school friends working at the concierge of the hotel. I mean hello, we graduated from a top IB school, it shouldn’t occur in our minds that we worked hard to get into university just to be a concierge. We should at least be a general manager.

In short, she really made me realize (this post is all about realizing, I’m sorry), that the uni I wanted to apply to in Singapore will make me graduate in two years, and half of the time i’ll be doing an internship. While the university in Indonesia that my mom keeps bugging me to apply will make me graduate in four years and only one month of that time will be an internship— meaning its all fucking theory. Which, isn’t all that bad.

--

So after months of thinking and crying and being depressed, I feel like I’ve made a decision. That I’ve finally heard that voice or was actually lead to a clear path. Now is just a matter of time, and actually passing, what could be, the last chance of the entrance exam.

[mybellsssblog-blog]

#1 when i knew there was no way out

Here’s a break down of how it all started.

There are times in life when you feel like you can get out of a rubble situation. And it feels good, knowing unconsciously that there was always going to be the road less travelled - the way out. However with the problem I am facing right now, it constantly feels like a series of unfortunate events. From the day senior year ended, yet still having no universities to go to, I knew that I was just gonna go with the current path, and see where it takes me; after all, its not like I can voice out my opinion for the sake of my future. At this point there was no point in telling my hard-headed, up-tight, bipolar mother, that my future is being crushed by her own hands.

That was it, I thought. Ending my senior like this was going to make me end my own life. But that was too much for me to take in. I couldn’t care less about managing all that, and having to dwell with it later on. So I held on for a bit longer. I managed to just challenge myself and go for whatever mm (my mom) wanted me to do.

Applied to university #1. Took the test. Failed the test.

Applied to university #2. Sent my transcripts. Rejected.

Applied to university #3. Took the test. Accepted.

Then my heart stopped, and thought, maybe this was the right way. Maybe this wouldn’t be too bad after all. I was wrong.

It was bad. After finishing up one whole semester with a 3.7 GPA and many great friends, things decided to go south. After six months of hard work, in which I should mention, mm was not involved in any of the things I did in this university. She was not proud of me getting into this uni, and I could see it. Not one word after I got in, not one word during my exam week, not one word asking how its all going. It was obvious. So obvious that I didn’t give a fuck.

Anyways, how things became downhill from there went by so fast, like it has happened for a long time - it was actually happening since years back. Unfortunately, the university that I was attending decided to not pay their rent, and basically got kicked out. The land was claimed again, and the school was wiped out and forced to move out. Which, they did, don’t get me wrong, but I knew I did not want to graduate in a university that might not exist in the future.

And here I am, back in square one. Trying to squeeze my way out of this tight situation, and comes all these options that are equivalent to the options that I would not want. I repeat, these are the options given by mm because she wants me to stay the fuck in Indonesia, aka land of petit to no opportunities.

She wants me to apply to university #4. In which she finds “very good, and has a great opportunity for me to learn,” also, I quote, “it teaches not just the basics but also managerial levels in the industry.” Remember when I said she has never been involved in my previous university activities, yeah well clearly. Because she doesn’t know shit about what they teach me at that university. Literally, everything that they teach at university #4. It’s just a more reputable university and thats why she wants me to go to that one.

It’s not fair. Yes, thats what they all say.

The way she forces my to going to this university is not by actions or by words but by the use of her minimal actions, and basically the face she makes when I tell her I want to apply somewhere else. Yes, I tell my friends about my problems, and yes they try to help, “just tell her you want it,” well its not that simple.

I am obviously not at a relaxed state, and its only going to go downhill from here. The pressure and the force she puts on me is extraordinary, and how I respond is clearly not indulging, but who is she to understand how I feel, because at the end of it all, she just wants to make herself look good, and it is all going to be for the sake of her, and her only being able to brag to her friends and close family.

Maybe I haven’t been the perfect daughter, but is everyone’s goal in life to be perfect? Mine undoubtedly isnt. If I don’t make her proud, I don’t want my future to be in jeopardy either. At this point in my life, I knew there was no way out.