A Self-evaluation

In view of my classmates’ colourful (in a metaphorical sense) weblogs offering genuine and vivid snapshots of their teenaged lives, I must attempt to play catch-up with my own: this very online journal which has become some sort of vestigial apparatus to my already mundane existence. Today I will offer readers, if there may be any, a look into what I perceive as my faults.

Firstly, I tend to compartmentalize and draw borders around gifts and skills, and furthermore not in a positive sense. I have no idea where this mindset originated from - but it prevents me from excelling at everything. It’s akin to having a electronically-limited speed limit in the engine of my brain. It’s a major irritation when I sit for tests - the mere thought of the time constraint already strips away most of my motivation. And why can’t I be as fluent in Mandarin as I am in English? Or good in sports as I am in academics? A mental blockade is the hardest obstacle to overcome, I believe - but I should really try not to subconsciously restrain myself. I should then be able to be good at everything I do - it’s all, after all, a matter of will. I can name a few people whom I believe have already attained this holy grail of wholesomeness, so it’s not entirely impossible. I think using certain talents to improve or supplement others is a good idea.

I’m always anxious about something. It may not show, but I wish I didn’t quake so much - it’s really distracting, and worse of all leads to a chain-effect of sorts. It’s difficult to suppress worry when it overflows. I need to learn to relax and feel in my element in more situations. I’m afraid that this problem can only be solved through stern mental training, though. Bummer.

Yes, I am a whiner. I think I complain too much instead of getting things done. What a waste of precious time, and, also, the barrage of complaints I somehow managed to churn out are in fact more discouraging than stress-relieving. I certainly need to subdue the innate cynic in myself, or at least divert attention away from it.

And most of all, and most disappointing of all, it’s apparent that I somehow fail to aggregate or express the goings-on of life or memories well - just look at my plaid blog if you are unconvinced. It’s not that I have a lack of influences or potential sources of inspiration: on the contrary: not only are my day-to-day activities soaked in mirth and cheer and a randomness I posit as unmatched, my newsreader is full of little bits of eccentricities and bits of information that I commit to memory… and, do nothing more. Okay, I might stick them in my del.icio.us bookmarks or copy-paste them to whoever’s speaking to me over IM at the moment. Hardly productive.

I believe it’s also not the lack ability to express myself (my literature teachers must think I am particularly gifted at just that after reading my monster essays); it’s a motivational factor - or perhaps beyond that… maybe a lack of will. As everyone should know, I am a chronic procrastinator. I guess I have to wake up and get stuff done, especially since there are some activities I want to complete, but which my brain has carelessly dumped in the trash bin of idleness. Reduce, reuse, recycle, they say. Yes; the last two are exactly what I need to do after the unbridled consumption of sumptuous sensory perceptions. I need to inject some spiciness into this corner of the Internet I call home - enough spice to pepper a crab.