Introduction of myself

    When I was in my early childhood, my parents had this habit of exclaiming 'very creative!' whenever I exhibited any kind of behavior; whether I drew a collection of meaningless circles or spat out a single word, through their lens it was a manifestation of my infinite possibility and talent. The implication was that by being second and free from the burden imposed on the first, I was bound to be of a spontaneous character. If it were now, I would have jeered at the total misconception and muttered out, "No, I don't think so". But as children are, at that time I was not skilled in picking out the inescapable flaws parents made about their child. Adults were wise beings; I was not in the position to analyze and interpret their minds, full of inconsistent, contradicting morals as I see it now. So for quite a long period of time, I actually believed that I was this 'big tank of imagination', striving for the career of being a fantasy writer or a singer-song writer.
     This way of conceiving myself faded after my entrance to middle school.  It suddenly occured to me that despite the devotion I paid to this whole affair about 'creativity' and 'ideas', I never had any concrete evidence of my talent. The works I've done, frankly, was a bunch of cliches pasted together by a cheap set of vocabulary. I was in no way a innovative person. I was the one barely jagging behind them, struggling even to put a step forward. The realization, while harsh, gave me an opportunity take one step backwards and construct an objective account of myself: my character, and my dreams.

     What is my character?
Once I thought I was the kind of a moral saint, a common conception that teenagers hold while strucking the thunder of justice over adults. I despised the atmosphere of snobbishness flowing about the closest people around me. That is, until I realized I was a snob, too. While I embraced myself in the ideas of utopean society and equality, I also was a sheer bourgeois, caught in the grandness of success and dreaming of a social climber. I think it's just my inborn quality; at the very moment I decide I'm going my own way, I grow conscious of the person next to me as a potential rival. A strong ego takes hold of me and sometimes strangle me to do better. So in sum, I'm what you'd call an ambitious student, though it is questionable whether I can keep up with high expectations.
    
     Dreams?
There's this monumental character who contributed to my dream.
GEORGE ORWELL


I've developed an affinity for anything 'Orwellian'. There's this attitude about himself, his acuteness and straightfowardness that almost makes me shiver. His depiction of the world is surprisingly objective despite his being quite a radical socialist. His life itself centers around what is right, and a constant fight against what is wrong.
He is what I want to be like. Of course it won't all be possible for me, 'living in a material world'. There's also the issue of individuality, too, that I shouldn't be a clumsy replication of him. But his life is so much of importance to me that it is hard for me to ignore it.
My future career has always been inconsistent; ranging from a journalist to a singer. But whatever I become, I'm sure of one thing: I won't live to be a person of little integrity. My ambition and worldly matters may perplex my view of this world, but I won't let that contaminate my whole mind, and I want to build my heart with stronger materials than now so I could persist in my believing. So that is my dream.

Strictly speaking, until now.