I reminded my roommate of the existence of a certain website that supposedly finds and reconnects old friends. Since the past week, she has been logging in daily without fail, regularly approving friend requests, sending messages, and gasping at how different her last-seen-five-years-ago friends look like, today.
“So what are you going to do next?”
Already the questions are being tossed about back and forth, as we ponder what will come, where to go, and what to do next.
It may all already be within your grasp. Your whole life mapped out in a series of arrows, seemingly pointing towards the right direction. A whole list of ‘to-dos’ to be achieved and accomplished. Having done all the thinking previously, there is nothing else left to do now but to proceed with the masterplan of your life. And now, you can tick point number sixteen – ‘get a university degree’ – off the list, and then sigh somewhat wistfully as you register the words ‘get married at thirty’ a little bit further down the list.
Then there are the ones that are still hovering about in a state of uncertainty, not knowing which path to take. “I go wherever the wind blows,” they declare pompously, inviting the hands of fate into play – as if it would make things any easier.
Apparently, a lot of things could happen within a period of four years. Both my online entries and personal diary writings are testaments to that. Distant memories raced through my mind as I skimmed through them: “So this happened only two years ago? Damn.”
It definitely feels longer than that.
Four years ago:
- I was not here.
- this did not exist.
- I did not know them.
- I did not know you.
Some things do not change, however: I was a nobody. I still am not.
As for my so-called future plans, I do not really have a sound idea of what to attempt next.
I think I shall wait.
Fine, fine. I shall open up an account in Friendster when I complete my studies (for good) in three months’ time, I promise.