A story of a late blooming 'banana'

It's funny how some people react when they finally get the 'free' time they have been dreading for all eternity. While the most typical thing to do is taking a trip down the isle of Dreamland, others just resolve to doing the things they usually would try to avoid. In my case, updating this utterly, perculiar love hate relationship with this web page. I mean, the sub heading on the top says it all. With all due respect towards myself, I have yet to display any level of recognition to be even considered a feature in any form of writing. However, do bear with me while I share a tale that comes deeply into my heart.

The thing about discovering what your passion is sometimes, it takes a while for it to surface. It is like a shy little rose bud, which with proper nuturing, blooms into something beautiful. The thing about my rose buds are that they bloom fashionably late. I have arrived at this cruel conclusion through a series of realisations and an agonising memory tracing session while I was bored staring at the walls, with my guitar resting smoothly on my chest.

According to my parents, while I was still a naive six year old, I made a hell of a protest against going to a chinese school. My valiant effort to recall details of that faithful event was like any other attempt of trying to ever remember anything, useless. In fact, while part of myself was grateful for the above beginner's level of english, part of myself still rue the inability to speak my mother tongue fluently.

Fast forwarding to the end of high school, I found myself accomplishing a lot, but nothing worth mention in any honorary roll. I was a seventeen who was clueless of the world that was about to heap on his shoulders. At that time, little did I knew I was about to be thrown into a pool of sharks when I signed that letter of acceptance into A Levels programme. The only good that came out of it was the accidental introduction to the world of mass communication. Now, in an odd way, calling myself an university dropout like it was something to be proud, I'm starting over from the bottom, with only one thing in mind, success. (That was so lame sounding)

Now, when almost everyone is ahead and they look so distant, I'm trying to catch up. I've probably been catching up all my life. My only hope now is that somehow, I'll be able to catch up and then stop myself from ever falling behind. I have nothing but clear memory of how difficult it was, mentally and emotionally, to be on the slow lane when everyone is on the expressway. There was never a day where I do not look back and think how things could have been any different. After all is said and done, I can only be thankful to God that I'm back on track. Slowly but surely, I will be able to live out my dreams and passion, instead of only watching from the sidelines.