Ever feel that there are just way too many potholes on your road — where it takes a massive amount of energy and effort to get out of it?\u00a0 And the worst part is, after you get out of it, you ask yourself “Now what?”\u00a0 I'm not sure if that can be classified as a crisis (quarter-life, mid-life, whatever, you decide) or just a horrid joke played on you by the gods.<\/p>\n
Not that I'm anything close to being emo or gothic, but the other day, I found myself mulling about tombstones.\u00a0 It's an aftermath of falling into a gigantic pothole that would bring the Grand Canyon shame.\u00a0 It made me think about my life — or whatever I can scrape off of it.\u00a0 So yes, tombstones.\u00a0 They're just one of those things that you know you will have… but have completely no control over.\u00a0 And the funny thing is, it will be planted there forever in your memory (in theory, at least).\u00a0 Does one include in a will what he\/she wants in his\/her tombstone?\u00a0 I mean, who decides?\u00a0 Is there some sort of template that these tombstone companies have?\u00a0 Like, is there a person employed full-time to think of cheesy blurbs to be engraved on one's tombstone?\u00a0 I would think, however, that if I were dying, thinking of what to write on my tombstone would be the last thing on my mind.\u00a0 After all, don't I have to figure out how to bloody get to the light at the end of the tunnel?\u00a0 Do I get a map or some equipment at least?\u00a0 Flashlight?<\/p>\n
Anywayyyyyyy… off in a tangent again.<\/p>\n
Tombstones, yes.\u00a0 I was thinking “What on earth will my family put on my tombsone?”\u00a0 The thing is, I don't think I'm particularly good at anything.\u00a0 And I'm not exaggerating, either — I mean it!\u00a0 Sure, I was ace in school and academics and all that… because I was expected to be (Asian parents, remember?).\u00a0 Then school finished, thank God!\u00a0 Got a decent job — the type that you aren't embarrassed to talk about during a party — and pretty much sold my life to it in the name of financial independence and self-support (paving the way for less parental naggings, though it doesn't eliminate it completely; nothing does!).\u00a0 Ironically though, I'm still uncertain whether or not I like what I do.\u00a0 It's simply to pay the bills, what else?\u00a0 Oh, and it's also something to do — keeps you busy!\u00a0 That's what jobs are for, no?\u00a0 There are people who like being identified with what they do.\u00a0 “I'm a financial analyst” or “I'm a neuro-surgeon” or “I'm a network administrator.”\u00a0 I don't even know what I am… and when I find out, I'm not exactly sure if I want to be pegged down as that.\u00a0 It makes everything sound so, I'm not sure… certain?\u00a0 Permanent?\u00a0 Grown up?<\/p>\n
As for talent, not exactly sure I possess that either.\u00a0 I've a disgruntled feeling God must've left me out when He sprinkled talent in heaven before He sent us all babies-to-be to earth.\u00a0 Or perhaps I was in the shower or fixing my hair, and the freaking cherub who was supposed to let me know was busy SMS-ing her boyfriend on her mobile phone.\u00a0 I can't sing (I only do so in the shower where I can delude myself into thinking that the good acoustics mask my tuneless singing), I don't dance (without being intoxicated), I can't act (I tried, believe me), I can't draw (my art extends to stick figures), I'm a horrible public speaker (though no incidents of tomato-throwing yet)… and well, you get the idea.\u00a0 Certainly the Jill of No Trades.\u00a0 Pretty pathetic, huh? \u00a0<\/p>\n
Good traits and attributes?\u00a0 Man, I would really need to not piss my immediate family off before I die or else they will only think of the devious crimes I've done in the past — like stealing my sister's precious Barbie dolls when I was younger, or completely destroying my brother's action figures by jumping on it with much gusto.\u00a0 Or that day in 4th grade where I lied to my parents about my grades.\u00a0 The list is endless, I tell you, and they really do have enough ammo against me to ward off any man from marrying me.\u00a0 I'd like to think that I was a loving daughter\/sister\/wife (wishful thinking) at least once in my life.\u00a0 Then again, it's one of those things that I would have to leave in the hands of my loved ones.\u00a0 Would it be mighty narcisstic of me to leave instructions to my family that my tombstone ought to say “To an unprecedented daughter\/sister\/wife whose death makes us lose the meaning of our own lives?”\u00a0 Yeah, I think so too.\u00a0 I should spend the next years of my life buttering them up… after antagonizing them for the past 25 years!<\/p>\n
That brings us back to square one — my blank tombstone.\u00a0 Apart from my name, it would probably be left blank, indeed.\u00a0 I sure hope they spell it correctly, at least.\u00a0 Then again, good to have some mystery, right?\u00a0 Hmmm, not if one's dead, I reckon.\u00a0 That would come off as something utterly peculiar like I was the Grinch or Scrooge or something. \u00a0<\/p>\n
With regards to the potholes of the notorious Twenties Road, how many more to go before we get elevated to the speed bumps of the Thirties Avenue?\u00a0 Can I still make it?\u00a0 Who knows, maybe I'm going through my mid-life crisis already — and that I will die when I'm fifty.\u00a0 Hmmm.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u00a0<\/p>\n
Well then… BRING IT ON!!!<\/p>\n
(Quite some banter today really.\u00a0 I apologize for the incoherence… but was fun!!!)\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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