Anson's Random Dumps #1
It was exactly midnight. I was stumbling across the vast, varied world of Instagram (which was full of junk), like a tumbleweed rolling across the windy roads, coupled with sand and dust carried by the wind. I came across one guy who posted daily journals to his account. Me being me, I thought it would be a great idea to keep a journal for myself as well. And so here I am. I lack things to post on my Instagram account anyway, so the series would make for good filler content.
I’m planning to keep adding entries daily, until the day I break the habit. Knowing myself too well, that day won’t be very far away. The entries would basically be anything I feel like writing, so expect anything from reflections on certain issues to literal rants. And if this goes on for long enough, I might as well open up a personal blog for a dedicated space to dump these entries on to. Ha! Don’t expect everything to be error-free, though. Frankly speaking, an error-free essay would feel like it’s being written by a bot. Anyone with me here?
Enough introduction. Let’s get to the meat.
Children are such amazing creatures, especially when you look at them after you’ve grown up. I consider myself to be meticulous, and some teachers say I’m detail-minded as well. Inside my room, not a single bug that decides to show up could escape its demise. This has gone on for several years (In other words, I can spot every bug that appears inside my room; they can’t hide). Yet, I happened to have a hike with several children the day before (16 Aug 2022), and despite being able to spot quite a few unsuspecting tiny bugs crawling on the ground, my eyesight simply cannot match those eagle eyes of the children anymore. They were also fearless – and bolted straight into every single bug they see. I simply do not (and probably did not) have the courage to commit such acts. They were also extremely unpredictable. One minute, they were gasping for air like a guy who almost drowned; another minute, they were dashing up the mountain in front of the pack. Children, although immature, are passionate, naive, and happy. If only I could go back to the days where simply running around would be an immensely fun pastime. My stamina now wouldn’t allow for that, though.
I remember being a kid, I always aspired to be a teenager. I wanted everything a teenager had: from bodily features to the mentality. I wanted to mature up. But little did I know, I was too immature to know the cons of being mature. Being a teenager now, less than 2 years from legally being an adult, I could safely say that being a child is much better than being an adolescent, or adult. If any of you kids are watching this – it’s probably redundant – but, treasure your time.
What is, striving for the best? Does it mean studying non-stop every single day? Does it mean that anything apart from a perfect score is despicable? (A is for Average moment) Well for me, it involves a bunch of decision-making and determination. You have to know yourself well, like your mistakes, in order to improve. You’ll also have to commit to it. As for your goal, you strive for better and better as you progress. But what’s certain, is that you’re definitely not aiming for a perfect score at your first rodeo. My IELTS results have been released, and I got a Band 8 score (out of 9). Have I honed in on my English skills enough? I don’t know. I’m confused. But I got Band 7 in Writing, with Band 8.5 in all other disciplines. That’s also one of the reasons why I am writing this journal now – seeing if I can improve my writing by, …writing more. This is no academic essay, though… Argh… My mind is getting foggy, as the moon continues to rise (I can’t see it though, bummer).
If you’ve read to this point, I applaud your patience and appreciate your support. Anyway it’s 2am and I better close this off ASAP. So that’s it screw any ending stuff.
Anson