I was just a regular student, like everyone else. Every day seemed to be the same for me. I took the same route to school, and back to home. Lessons and homework were boring. And, although it is weird to say, my interests were boring too. Life was so monotonous and repetitive. I had nice family and friends, nothing difficult ever happened to me. I was living a nice life ever since I was born. Nothing bothers me, but still I frowned. “What am I doing?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking this question again and again.
I have always been a good kid -- at least this is how every adult described me. I was good at following rules and meeting expectations of others. I walked along the corridor and turned into the classroom. The bell rang, I sat down with a straight back, waiting for the class to start. Being a good kid and a good student was something that made me proud. I liked being praised and always wanted others to like me more. Whenever people started complimenting me after comparing me to some other kids, I loved the feeling that I won over the others.
When I was in primary school, my mom arranged some after-school classes for me to develop my “interest”. I participated in the symphonic band and the dancing team at school. There were a lot more that my mom asked me to learn, like bassoon, oboe, piano, badminton and swimming. It is true, my parents wanted me to become an all-rounded person, and therefore, they planned to let me get exposed to different varied activities as much as possible.
Every school day was a torture, after the long day with boring lessons, I carried my earth-heavy school bag on my shoulder and started the “after-school” as planned. Every step I walk tires me, the bright blue sky annoys me just as much as the wet rainy days. The gravity was so heavy, that I felt like falling onto the ground every second. Yet, how can a man resist gravity? I never rejected, and never refused to comply.
This is how my childhood slowly slipped away.
Secondary school was a brighter place filled with more possibilities and diversity. It was a mess for me at first. Secondary school gave me so much flexibility about schedule, classes, homework, participation, and all the things that had been regular before. I loved this freedom, but I always made the safest and easiest choice. I wouldn’t bother to attend extra classes although I knew that they would be useful, and I would only participate in what is compulsory. I didn’t want more responsibilities, and to waste more time. There were a lot of workshops and sharing sessions, some were about movies, some were cookery, and many of them were in fact quite interesting.
“Jodie, lets join this card game workshop during lunch together, it seems fun!” One of my friends asked me, with a lot of excitement in her blinking eyes. “Ermm… No… I don’t think I will go, let’s just enjoy our lunch, today is so tiring.” I pretended to look sorry and made a quick glimpse at the poster. It did sound fun for me too, but it was a firm rejection. I knew how to plan my time.
This is how I answered every time my friends asked me to join anything. Why did I do that? I couldn’t tell. I knew it would bring her some disappointment, and I was actually quite interested in it too. But something just tied my body to the chair, forcing me to stay where I was. I thought, maybe I didn’t need to be so interested in other unessential things.
I was keeping up with the good results, doing what I used to do. I participated in the symphonic band, and I liked playing oboe, I guess. At least I was good at it, and my mom supported me a lot. So, I kept on going, going to band practices and oboe classes was my responsibility. “This is what I should do. Card games are fun, movies are fun, but why should I waste time on that? Isn’t life tiring enough? I would rather get some rest,” I thought. “Focus and keep my head down. Then this is good enough.”
The last lesson just ended. It was mathematics, calculating used up lots of my brain energy. I stood at the corridor on the second floor, carrying my oboe. I leaned out and rested my head on the railing. There were still a few minutes left before the oboe class. I was always going into the door on the last second.
“Hey, Jodie! Are you joining the symphonic band this year too?” I heard it, but I didn’t answer. I didn’t even know who asked me this question, my eyes had been on the sports ground, looking at the those who were practicing hockey. The sun was so bright, and light wind was blowing. With their laughter and sweat flew in the air, the scene echoed together harmonically, better than any melody that I have played or heard.
No matter how much I don’t want the class to start, it still started. My hands grabbed the oboe, played a melody, fluently, skillfully, but soullessly. I knew what to do, the notes were clearly written on the paper. It was easy, like mathematics. Just follow the rules, the instructions, and all were mechanical. I had a comfy, conditioned room to stay in for the practices and classes. I had a nice seat, constant temperature, ceiling that shields me from sunlight or rain. I didn’t need to make myself so tired, sweaty and dirty. My teacher appreciated my oboe skills. “Oboe class wasn’t that bad,” I tried to convince myself.
Yet, being in a square room made me suffocate. School, classes, practices, I was being kidnapped in this endless cycle. Every time I sat in the rooms, no matter how bright the lights were, they couldn’t light anything in me. I sat there because I am supposed to, I was chained to the chair because we should not “give up easily”. And, for the first time, I realized that I did not like what I was doing.
I was envy. I wanted a place where temperature changes, and air is not solid. I wanted the waves of light to touch my skin. I wanted to go somewhere I can listen to noises, not delicate tunes. Seconds passed like minutes, and minutes passed like hours when I sat here for practices. During break, I always went to the corridor and looked down to the sports ground. And this short break was always like a large breath of fresh air that saved me from a long dive under water, freed my numbness deep in my spine.
I stood on the corridor, confusion, guilt and excitement flooded over me. “Why am I so distracted? Why couldn’t I dedicate myself like all the others do for their interest? What do I truly desire for?” I asked myself questions that I had never asked. I loved this school a lot, everyone here had their own passion and engagement, something that they were willing to drown themselves into. At that moment, I understood why I wasn’t like them. It was because I never made my own choices. Of course, a sea gives no freedom to a bird and a sky gives no meanings to a fish. No one knows the place you belong, except yourself.
That was the longest break I took among all the oboe lessons. I stood here watching the hockey players, making stupid laughs and noises. I stood here to enjoy the pure happiness that I couldn’t explain. Then, the decision I made was simple and easy, I did not go back until the lesson ended, and I never went back.
Starting is brave, but quitting is braver. Now I know that understanding what is right for yourself is important. Don’t be afraid to give up what you had, holding tightly onto your past success, expectations of others, or habits is not useful. Step out of the comfort zone, and search for your true passion.
The present me is so much different from who I was. I have grown up to become a little more impulsive and instinctive, and making less plans. Is that bad? Maybe, but I don’t think so. I am so eager to explore and to like all the interesting things around me, maybe an uncommon typing input method, or a coin from a specific year. And more importantly, I have become a hockey player. I have a weird motto, that is to “never calm yourself from what fascinates you”. It is a cliché to say, “follow your heart”, but it is so true. Just let what we love to overwhelm us, and this is how I finally walk on my own path, lively and proudly.