A Fool’s Inebriation

I was, in a sense, born and raised to be an academic by my parents because they sincerely believed I was gifted. As early as five years old, I was tasked to find out the meanings of words that a lot of university students do not even know until now. I was also taught how to spell words like ‘inquisitive.’ In a sense, I did not act or think my age. The only toy I ever treasured in that age of mine was a cheaply-made plastic truck, and compared to my peers I wasn’t as active or as playful. (I was still a child, though, so even then, my hyperactivity must have had irritated quite a few people.)

I was raised to excel academically. There was no such thing for my parents as number two. There was only the apotheosis, the perfect example: there was only number one. Because I wanted to be a good child and I wanted to please my parents, I had done so, and done so consistently. Although not the number one student in all of the batch, I was always the number one student in my class. This was without fail for the whole of my elementary years. My parents remained discontented, however. They believed that I could be the number one in the whole batch. Being number two wasn’t enough. That frustrated me. As early as that time, I was already doubting whether my parents could be sated at all.

I still excelled during my high school days. I never forgot my studies; I did well in sciences; and, to a degree, I was still the best student when it came to the sciences. It was never enough for my parents, though. Why couldn’t I be the number one? Why couldn’t I also excel in the arts? I remain uncertain, but I firmly believe that their plodding and pushing were among the reasons why I have lost faith in the academe as well as the supposed meaning within it.

I now belong to a university located far from my hometown (and consequently, my parents). I have also firmly stood my ground with regard to their prodding. I have told them that I could no longer excel as I did before because I no longer wanted to excel. In a sense, also, my estrangement from them taught me that there are infinitely, infinitely more things to life than excellence in the academe.

I have met people who have regretted burning the midnight oil only to discover that their academic excellence has not benefited them much when faced with real life problems. Frankly, I would agree with them. Real life throws a hardball. The four corners of the classroom teach us the actions of catching. More often than not, however, the classroom does not teach us how to catch, when catching life’s marrow is more important than simply knowing how to do it. I have realized that sucking out life’s marrow is done with a certain personal finesse that can never, ever be taught within the classroom: examinations cannot present it: on the contrary, to an extent, examinations obscure us from what is really needed to be known.

This blog may fail to last long. Whenever, however, ideas regarding how life is supposed to be lived comes to mind, I will try to share what I have realized with the people who will hopefully participate and allow this blog to flourish. That is the reason why I have dubbed this blog a fool’s inebriation.

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