Reichenbach Fall in The Rant Dump

...Okay, that title is too dramatic. I do what I want. pout

Yesterday was our Oath Taking ceremony, and I had to give a speech. As I got up on stage, I flaunted my cheat script around because it was just pointless to pretend that I am a know-it-all and am someone who does speeches spontaneously. The crowd laughed with the gesture. I'm pretty sure our Dean was a bit embarrassed because of my shamelessness.

I stuttered and fumbled over my words all the way. My mouth felt dry. When I looked at the audience, I only saw a blur. This was my first, and it was exciting.

People told me that it was a great speech. One confessed that she nearly cried (for which I do apologize). Before the event started, there was this distinguished lady I happened to pass by at the corridor on my way to the venue. We vaguely knew each other, but she was kind and gave me a congratulatory kiss on the cheek. I suppose that was because I was in uniform. After the event, we saw each other again (she was seated near my mother). "Oh my, I didn't know--" and we laughed.

That day was great because I still get to be my usual self and was accepted. There was no pressure in trying to act professional nor dignified. Except during that time when we had to receive the awards. Administrators and government officials were there and-- just kidding, I maximized my derp.

During the afternoon, we processed stuff to claim our licenses. I became white as a ghost when I encountered a slight mishap. My signature did not match the one on the document. Oh, I agree with you, reader. It is stupid.

When I sign stuff, I just usually write my last name carelessly at the speed of light because I never really cared. It wasn't like I was signing a check or anything. I've never been so wrong.

It was a pain trying to forge that same scribble I made. I felt something in my chest sink down; it was heavy. My solace was that the official was extra kind to me. Usually they are brutally strict. I then learned that a bit of fame goes a long way. I used to think that all I had to do was to be kind to everyone, then the world would do the same to me. Again, I was wrong.

While the processing thing happened, there was something else going on in the room adjacent to ours. There were delegates from a soon-to-be prestigious school who made this talk about their online Masters degree and how extremely advantageous it would be for us to take it.

Before I proceed, I must make this point to make sense: I hate my course. I am very lazy and hate every single day of duty we were made to go through. And to think that I have to do this for the rest of my life... It is very depressing.

Finally. With this certain Masters degree, our job description would change. It would be something that is way more palatable for me, and which I think I would actually enjoy and be very productive with. But it costs $5,000. And I am anxious that everything is done online. A pre-recorded class would bore me so much. I don't get to ask questions on the spot. Will I seriously learn like that? But still, I should try. Why not? The Dean herself and most of the faculty is taking it. Point made right there.

But the thing is, this price offer only lasts while the school's name has not changed yet. It is to be overtaken by this big-named university, and so the tuition would skyrocket. It's like buying a sweater. The branded ones are always painfully more expensive.

And now, the fall.

My mother came to my room earlier today. She seemed solemn and troubled. I thought I can handle anything she'd throw at me-- I am good with fixing other people's problems, but not mine.

She told me about her conversation with father on the telephone. It was about my uncle, my father's brother. He got involved in some carnapping case because his signature was on the paper that had something to do with the involved car and darn I don't understand it either.

I felt bad because I suspected my own relative that maybe he really is guilty. I didn't care about it at all, and it bothers me that I did not care. Funny.

Well, at one point in our conversation, I started to care.

Because my uncle needs $10,000 to be bailed out. My uncle always relied on my father. My father who is a mere undergraduate caregiver abroad who made it out of my college financial nightmare by the skin of his teeth.

Knowing my father, he'd certainly help. Because he always does. When my grandfather died, he took care of most of his hospital bills and burial expenses. He has siblings, but I don't know why things turned out like this. They also have financial problems, but why does it always have to be MY father? Why?

I think giving away $10K is a huge waste of money. I'm sorry. That $5K is a tremendous investment for me, and I know for certain that I can give him back more than triple the amount plus my intact sanity and happiness when I'm done.

I know people would say that I should just find a job and quit complaining. That I should find my own way to finance myself, now that I've graduated and everything. I want to do that. But this-- I cannot pass this up. I should do this NOW. It would have been fine if I can do this at a later time when everything is fine again, or when I could have saved up for it...

When I was still in college, I confessed to my father on how much I hate what he got me into. So he promised that he will help me take up another course again if I still wanted to. I thought of engineering, then it moved to medicine when I became so engrossed with diagnosing people. I wouldn't have minded studying for four more years and go through unpaid internship for two years. But we can't afford that.

And now, I finally found something more affordable. Something that would literally save me. Something that makes me feel less suicidal. Then my uncle comes along.

I found it amazing that my mother offered to help, that she was willing to beg so she can borrow money from her own siblings for that man. I began to ask myself as to why I wasn't as selfless like my parents.

I had cold thoughts like how my father should invest in me first and my uncle can wait in jail until I get a job and save up enough to get him out. Besides, my uncle doesn't do anything-- he does not have a job, so it would be no different if he was in jail. I say this not because I hate and/or condemn him. I just thought it was very logical. It made sense in my head.

I feel bad. Terrible. Because I know that my way of thinking would deeply sadden my parents. That is good because this feeling assures me that I am not a psychopath.

I think I'll sit back and watch for a while. It is unwise for me to open my mouth so prematurely, especially because all I have to say right now are rather hurtful and are exactly what my parents do not need to hear at the moment.