The first time I can clearly remember misplacing my academic confidence was when I was thirteen. There was a test. Up until then I had taken for granted that I was smart. Sure, there were times I had trouble with science, and BM seemed to pose challenges once in a while, but I had always assumed it was my lack of effort that caused those complications, not my intellect.

This test I had was a maths test, of all things. Maths! I had considered maths a perfectly doable subject, so long as you learnt the material and did exercises. Maths was hard to screw up. I was more than confident I had done well in the test. My teacher was handing back our test papers, and I remember one of my classmates asking me what my score was. I glanced airily at my paper, expecting something in the mid-80s or maybe even 90, and that's when I saw I had actually scored something in the low-70s. A big, fat, jarring B.

And then I wasn't sure anymore.

High school was the first place I realized I may not be as good as I thought I was(yes, I was that pompous beforehand). And it was where I first encountered what it's like to be in a conversation where the person you are coversing with doesn't find you particularly clever. It's not anything obvious or intrinsically mean of course, it's not as if they point at you shouting "bodohnye kau ni!". But it's things like not fully taking your word on something the teacher was explaining in class the other day. Doubting your capacity to fully grasp or understand the subject material.

I don't know why, but I've gotten so paranoid with what other peoples' perception of my intelligence may be. It kills me to think that a particular person may find I am.....not exactly stupid, but lacking, somehow. Not up to par. Slow on the uptake. All that jazz.

It shouldn't matter, I know it shouldn't. At the end of the day, it depends on the effort you put in, and what you strive to learn for yourself. People's supposed opinions about you? Fuck that. It doesn't matter. Just do right by yourself, and learn for the right reasons.

But somehow my paranoia manifests in my abilities. I feel stupid, and I end up acting properly idiotic. I lose faith in my ability to reason, to do things, to think. And I end having no clue what the fuck I'm doing, and I seem as stupid as I am utterly scared of being.

I must have faith in myself. I must not be scared.

I am now working with a bunch of amazing people. They are intelligent, they are eloquent, they are smart cookies. And it's scaring the living daylights out of me. My incompetence was on display for the past week, and I have not felt as stupid as I did then in a particularly long time.

So you know what? Shit's gonna go down, but in a positive way. I'm going to work my ass off this year. And I will conquer this paranoia. And I'm going to learn, because I want to be kick-ass at what I do.

Wish me luck.

P/S: AND I MUST NOT BE AFRAID TO ASK QUESTIONS! For God's sake, tanye jelah. Don't be bodoh sombong can or not?

I have a mess of observations and ideas inside my head. I've been having trouble methodically sorting through them, so I'm taking the desperate measure of puking out random points and thoughts in writing.

It is a sad truth that I've had a lot of friendships that faded away purely due to geographical reasons. When I came back home and walked into my bedroom for the first time in a couple years, I saw that the pictures in the frames on the walls were taken about four years ago, and some people in those pictures weren't relevant to my life anymore, not because of anything dramatic, but just because our friendship wasn't the kind to survive once our lives didn't overlap. It felt peculiar. I haven't spoken to you for ages, have no idea what you're doing, and yet there you are, smiling on my wall. You meant something to me back then.

I have a bit of bitterness lodged in my chest, and it is aimed at a particular person, which makes it harder to let go. I have tried rationalising through it, and when that failed, tried coaxing it to go away. I then attempted to prune it out of my thoughts altogether. At certain points, I optimistically believe I can overcome it with humor, but then it bubbles up again, and I feel it, vitriolic and hateful. I am disappointed with myself over this, I understand it is not right, this harboring of ill-will. I also grasp the concept that sometimes it's no one's fault, shit just goes down, and yet I still find myself frustrated, and I bounce between blaming myself and finding ways to justify my anger.

I start working next week, and I have all the regular fears of starting somewhere new. What if, what if, what if. At the top of the worry list, you have the classic, never-gets-old fear of "What if I don't make friends?", and as I work my way down, there are things like "Will rush hour traffic suck my soul out?" and "What if it takes me longer to learn and pick up things than the others?", and also some new ones, like "Can I trust myself to manage my money wisely?" and "Holy crap, ,macam mane nak pakai make-up?".

My brother is 15 this year folks, percaya tak? I was so surprised when I saw him at the airport, he's grown so tall. And he eats constantly, but remains lanky and thin. I, on the other hand, have only been back about half a month, and already I can tell my shorts and pants fit snugger around the waist. Food is yummy and plentiful, and while the sure fact that I've gained a bit of weight makes me unhappy, it's the sort of unhappiness that makes me sigh glumly for bit but then I brighten up while reaching for another piece/slice/helping of goreng pisang/cake/nasi/shepherd's pie/anything edible.

Oh, and I think my brother has nice handwriting. It's nicer than mine was at that age, or ever will be, as a matter of fact.

Ok bye.