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| "And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good." - East of Eden, A novel by John Steinbeck |
It's very hard to single out a word
from a language that makes “shit” sound delightful, but of all
the words in the french dictionary, “flaneur” is perhaps my
favorite. It essentially means someone who strolls around without a
specific destination in mind, while enjoying and observing life as it
happens. You can say it's “wanderer” in english, although that's
just a rough translation.
If you would ask me to describe myself
in one word, I guess that would be it. I am “Le flaneur”. I used
to think I was lost, but I later realized that I am just taking my
time. I do not know where I am going yet, but I'm determined to make
the most out of this “flanerie” and gain a better understanding
of life from where I am.
“Taking my time” at 25, though, is
not a very popular choice in a world that expects me to have
clear-cut goals. It's often very difficult to keep strolling with my
head held high and my dignity intact when everybody else is goading
me to take the train with the rest of my more accomplished
counterparts.
There were several instances when I was
this close to succumbing to the never-ending pressures. I almost gave
up my resolve and fast-tracked my way into maturity just so I could
finally free myself from the nags and the judgmental stares, but I am
glad I didn't because getting on that train, at this moment of my
life, still feels like settling. I can play the part of a responsible
grown-up, but I don't want to play pretend. The “Barney phase” of
my life is over and I don't want to go back there anymore.
People develop at their own pace. The
chosen few know what they want to do with their lives the moment they
carried themselves and their technicolored lunchboxes into the chaos
and fantasy of pre-school. The lucky ones form a 10-year goal by the
time they loiter the hallowed university halls, while the ones, like
me, are suspended in a taboo: crawling in circles, still trying to
figure out the way to the life we have imagined.
The mounting pressures only add to my
confusion and the attempts to hasten this process of self-discovery
only creates another gap between me and whatever it is that I am
searching for. I expect something of myself too, and you might be
surprised to know that those expectations are greater than yours.
Even I cannot tell what possibilities
this squander holds; what passions it may unearth and the desires it
may unmask. I may be a vagabond in your eyes today, but I certainly
won't be that way forever. All I am asking of you is to let me
explore – the world around me and myself. I want to see more, feel
more, and understand more because my soul yearns for more wisdom in
order to hear the muffled whispers of my heart. You had your chance
at mistakes and failures. It's my turn now. It is not enough that you
pass your wisdom to me; I have to live the moments that gave you that
wisdom to make it my own.
Let me make mistakes and learn from
them; let me tumble so I'll know pain; let me experience failure
because I want to know what they meant when they said victory is
sweetest as after you have faced defeat.
Let me fall down, so I can rise up,
run, jump, fly and then soar.
Give my heart and my mind the time they
demand to turn me into a woman you'll be proud of.
I'll catch up with the rest of the world, but not now.
Someday.
Someday.
In my own time; on my own terms.
Not by train, but on a jet a plane.
Not by train, but on a jet a plane.
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