2am

I've been sleeping at this time for almost seven weeks now.

And then like clockwork, I'll wake up in time for classes which starts at early as 8am, and before that, one hour to get up and ready so that I remembered to bring materials for classes. The only times my time to wake up faltered was when I came back from Singapore, too tired from all that walking. (It was an awesome trip, more on that when I finally have time).

I could only steal these few hours to write about something, because I recognise the power of how words could change the way you look at events already.

I've abandonned the idea of catching up with the news on newspapers for this past two weeks. And even then I slept at 2am almost everyday. Never earlier. I don't know if I'm dreading because I know if I don't go through this, I might as well don't graduate. And I need that degree to continue on for more things.

Lately I found myself being in an uncomfortable zone, I hovered, settled, decided it's not for me, then hovered again. My role requires me to pay attention, to be more wholly, to give chances to others to excel. It's never mentioned loudly, but something tells me they think I've achieved and excel enough, I can stop.

But there's no such thing as enough achievements.

I remember my tutor told us how good a girl's article was, how her English was so bombastic she was rather impressed, but it was "too high standard for a reader" (If you're wondering, we were graded based on Malaysian English standards), does it matter? It's still bombastic, and it still got the highest marks. What has being "whole" and "groupie" gotta do with anything? So even if I tried toning down my article by not being too Miss Bombastica, I still got good marks, just not good enough. Definitely not the highest. I really regret it.

I remember my friend whom I've known since Form 3 who likes talking to me, who is very passionate artist. He draws Bomberman comics starting from Standard 4, and proceed to show people his artbook. Actually, he showed me that artbook during Form 3 and I was impressed. We continued on our lives in Form 4 and 5 in separate classes because he wasn't interested in pursuing Science and I was, half-heartedly pursuing Science without Biology and I hate it.

We often talk about the dreams he dreamt of being: An animator, a drawing artist. Once us girls teased him into drawing something that will impress all of us, and there he was, using what's left of the chalk and swishing, swooshing his way all across the blackboard. It was like a swashbuckle with the blackboard, and the chalk's his sword. He paused a few moments to cough out the dust sometimes, and then resume his duty to entertain us flutter-hearted girls. And that's where I see it, his grand masterpiece. A pirate girl braving the oceans, not even breaking a sweat, and happily pursuing her adventure. It was inspired by Jolin Tsai and her pirate costume that time but at the moment, I forget the original, I just looked and stared hard at the maginificent piece he just made. The only thing I didn't have was a digital camera back then to take this picture and keep for memory's sake. The picture too was damaged soon after so that classes can resume.

I talked about his dreams a lot then. He wants to get a certificate in digital arts, but his parents disapprove, preferring him to study accounting, the more stable jobs. I encouraged him, recommended him to ask my cousin who was studying the same degree at that time, ask him to ask her about the course structure so that he won't be disappointed, and at the same time use this to convince his parents that he really wants to pursue this line, already knowing what to expect before plunging in.

He graduated, and his final year work was good, if not, I could say the artistic standards were similar to Pixar's formula. Storyline might take awhile to tweak but he's gotten the gist of it. I was proud, so proud, partly because I know his success was due to all that dream talks we had, and partly because I never want to see someone's dream being thwarted just because it wasn't in a favourable situation. He's now working in a company,and if things were successful, he'll be part of the team that made the first 3D animated series in Malaysia that actually sounded good.

And then I wondered again, all these while, my role was never to make myself look good, but to make other people's work even better. There are times when I do excel but I spend my life just trying to convince people that their dreams are achievable, which caused me to delay my own achievements, delaying them till they lack of excellence, crushing my dreams halfway through, unable to walk off from the family commitments I have.

I'm like that facilitator who really cares for the dreams of others so that they can live, excel, and bring that results back. I'm the guide who actually bothers to give people the chance to be leaders and then pick up the pieces if they ever made a mess so that we can still have marks in our assignments (yes marks do matter too).

And then I wondered about the dreams some people are achieving now, a friend is living through KL opportunities and with his very exclusive time management, he's practically funding his own living expenses, and never even have his marks dipped. Another friend is already heading off to Copenhagen for the COP15 meeting, eager to know the proceedings, and if the skies forbid, I'll be at standby mode to check the latest news on the meetings and the turnouts of it.

One friend was determined to get the scholarship for her Masters, and she's already trying her very best to get recommendations from lecturers or tutors who know her. Others are, well, able to live their own life.

I feel trapped. I love my life now but I feel too comfortable. But comfort's the only thing I feel like others told me to deserve because for the past years before I even had a blog I was struggling just to get on with life. It was simple, the computer was laggy with a Pentium 3 processor and all I had was a shitty laptop which me and my siblings always take turns to use just for MSN, as we can't do anything else. My life was simple, ignorant at best. I don't know what is the Star Wars cult nor do I care. I don't bother to follow up on the latest news and I was actually happy that I get to read newspapers everyday.

And now I'm living and feeling comfortable, because of all that past efforts I've been doing to encourage people. My logic back then was, if I can't achieve them because I don't have the finances to do so, at least I want to see the others doing it. When they do achieve something, I do feel proud.

But now, I'm required to make a choice. I will no longer be a facilitator for others in the near future. I have to make my own decisions and so do they, which is double the job. I facilitate them and THEN myself as well. I have to make fast decisions. Start overseas or local? Find jobs or pursue Masters? And then, if I ever made those choices, will my relationship last? Will I be able to maintain close ties with my family and will they be okay without me?

I do ponder because I know my mother is the kind of woman who is reluctant to let her children fly. She herself flies a very successful career, the only businesswoman amongst her siblings. But from the phone call I've received just now I know she was not ready to let go and it is suffocating because I really want to try an adventure outside. I mean, what's there to lose? That I'll be seduced somehow even though I already have this steady boyfriend? That I'll be duped and never come back again? I never know what is in her mind.

I wish I could just do and regret later. People always call me daring, what they know is because I always weigh my pros and cons. It was all calculated, because for some reason, I'm able to see through the dimensions and make quick calculations in my mind on how it should turn out to be. And truthfully, I don't like that.

I calculated, and I know I'm not able to champion people's rights without leaving my current emotional package behind.

I calculated, and I know I can't manage time properly, therefore I can't make my own living expenses or I'll flunk my studies.

I calculated, and I know I can't make a decision now if I want to study Masters or work first.

I calculated, and I know I'm never going to be as good as the best achiever, but I'll never become the person who just aims for a passing. I'm that medium, that balanced, that non-extremist.

And yet, when somebody told me they risked something, because they listened to my advice, because I could calculate things for them, I feel happy for them, and angrier at myself, jealous in fact, because I want to be like them.

But who is my calculator?