Fireworks in the Rain

Can't sleep. So after several weeks of dreading staying up this late for many reasons, now I'm just sitting here. Doing pretty much nothing. I was going to do math, but after I opened the book, I didn't feel like doing it anymore.
It's not like I have any complaints though. I'm pretty much satisfied with my life right now, I'm sure you all know why. I feel so awkward when I was reading some of my old posts. I always knew what I wrote was depressing, but man was it so depressing! Yes, pointing out the obvious is fun. Anyhow, I feel sorry for the people who actually read my blog. I mean, who wants to read a blog where the person is always saying that life is meaningless and says something borderline suicidal? Yeah, I'm so excited to read more.
Moving onto the present, the bright side of all this darkness, I seem to have found the pep in my step again! I've always wanted to use that phrase. Anyhow, yeah, I'm pretty sure my insomnia is back. I feel like I'm more hyper and cheery at school despite the lack of sleep. And, of course, I have gone back to appreciating the little things in life.
So in honor of the rebirth and sparkle in my life, a poem! If you know what I'm talking about in my poem, I congratulate you. Because sometimes I felt like even I didn't even understand what I was writing.

Fireworks

Rain splattered on the ground,
And colors flooded the world.
I'm dripping the paint all around
The canvas where they exploded and swirled.

Vivid red made my heart beat faster.
Cheerful orange made me wonder.
Bright yellow made me smile.
Curious green made me confused.
Solemn blue made me feel awkward.
Royal purple made me feel on top of the world.

Gray clouds loomed everywhere.
The colors faded, wilted, and died.
I threw open the curtains,
And there was an explosion of fireworks.

Yet rain still splattered on the ground,
And colors flooded the world.
I'm dripping the paint all around
The canvas where they exploded and swirled.

Don't you think these fireworks
Are so pretty
Even if it's late?
Emotions so loud
I tried to keep them silent
But the booms of colors
Made me explode.

Colors alighted around.
Just what does this mean?
I don't expect an answer,
But, I still need to scream.
I need to get this thank you
Out so the heavens can hear.

Thank you
For the ability to see again,
I love the colors in the sky.
Thank you
For bring tears to my eyes,
The sight is just too beautiful.
Thank you
For this explosion of feelings,
That lighted the whole world.
Thank you
For never letting the fireworks fade away.

Mere Fantasies

I think I've found the source of my recent depression. I think it's my parents. Not like they've done anything, but you know, they just can't as young as they were when I was in elementary school, you know? It's been pretty weird that my mom and dad's hair, for maybe the last two years, to be growing white. It's like a reminder how old my sister is, how old I am, and obviously, how old they're getting. And since my mom's in China, the house has been more quiet. No car chase scenes or Korean people shouting from the television screen. No random comments my parents make or laughing when the music is all sad. Just the humming of my motherboard and the tapping of my keyboard is accompanying me this night. Last night, the night before, it's so quiet. And so sad. I've been getting along with my father pretty well. We talk more than we would before. Maybe it's because my mom isn't around for him to talk to. The house has toned down a bit ever since my sister went to college, and I wonder if my parents will like their life with me out of their hair. Will they be happy with their freedom, or sad with the stilled air? Would they be thinking in depth about my departure? Or is their matured mind prepared and that my absence would not disturb them. But it's so creepy when they talk about retirement. They aren't that old. Then again, it's from 5-7 years difference, between my parents' ages and a majority of my friend's parents. The difference of a sixth grader and a first-year college student. Mere numbers seem too simple in my eyes, but in the eyes of my past, it seemed just way too distant. Heh, I just remembered an old fear of mine, from when I was maybe in the second grade. I used to be afraid that my parents would soon become elderly, their appearances similar to my grandparents, and that they would forget how to speak English. Somehow that became the reason why I studied Chinese. In eight years, I've grown enough to know that my silly fears won't just happen, but it's still haunting, the image of my parents old and fragile. It seems impossible for your strong parents to look like such a shadow of their past. Then there's those "Joint Juice" containers around the house that reminds you that they aren't strong and reminds you of their aches from age. If life was a neverland, we'd always be living the same roles. The rebellious child, the nagging parents, the bothersome siblings, and wouldn't it all be well? In a fantasy world.

From the Child

Some friends of my family are staying over at my house for the weekend (at least I think that's how long they're staying) from Phoenix. And today, my house is lively with a small child at the age of two, running around the house. Tong Wen AiYi (Aunt* Tong Wen) and Wang Jing ShuShu (Uncle* Wang Jing) brought their child, Kevin, who is going to turn three in March. He's so cute, just running about. Sadly for me, his Chinese is better than mine. Ouch. Well, whatever, my Chinese sucks compared to most Chinese-learning students. Usually because I don't study or anything except for cram sessions before mid and finals.
*In case you didn't know, the Chinese call adults that are close to your family, "aunt" or "uncle", even though they aren't related.
Unfortunately, this blog post isn't going to be cheery, as most of my posts aren't. I was distracted from my math homework and from the bathroom, I heard Tong Wen AiYi talking to little Kevin. She scolded him lightly because he was acting recklessly, and she wanted to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself. Kevin giggled and seemed to listen. Then his mother laughed, too, and I zoned out of their lives. I was listening to "Poker Face" by Lady Gaga, and thought about the lyrics briefly, knowing the vulgar meaning behind the catchy tune. Then I started to drift away into thought. When do parents go from the openly caring and tender people who raised us in their arms, to the parents who'd scold us and pressure us for our future? When do we go from the obeying child to developed a mind of a rebellious one? When did we start to challenge our parents or backtalk to them in our minds? When did we start to think that our parents didn't care for us? Of course, everyone's cases are different. Maybe some people's parents weren't as loving as other, or expressed it as clearly. Maybe some people's parents are still open with their feelings of love towards their child. Maybe. My history teacher, who also teaches psychology said that maybe people were born to have certain characteristics. That we don't become the people we are purely because of the people around us, but from when we start developing in our mother's womb. Some babies behave better than others, whereas some babies are fussy and hard to handle. Of course the people around us effect the person we'll grow to become, the things we see, we hear. It's a pity how the bad seeds ruin the whole batch somehow. I'll a little grateful that I cherish promises and that my sister made me promise her not to curse. Because maybe I wouldn't be the person I am today, just from a few words added to my vocabulary. It also makes me different. I'm not afriad anymore to believe in things that other people don't. My likes and dislikes, my morals, they're unique to my person. I wonder how much of who I am reflects back to before I was born. Was I meant to end up this way? At this point of life? Who will I come to be in the future? Will I continue believing the same things? Or will influences change who I am now? Who am I now?

Click. Bang.

It's always so hard to not judge people, like judging a book by its cover. There's always those people you'd never expect to be hiding so many secret feelings inside. They talk with their friends, laughing and looking like they have a great time. But then I notice, when they glance away, it's like the expression changes completely. A perfectly happy smile turns into a distant stare with a turn of the head. There's so many of them. Heck, I do that sometimes. Why are we all so private, so quiet? In a way, it's like the world stops turning, just for a little while, and it keeps on going without anyone noticing. What is with the masquerade party everyone attends that is supposed to be life? Female, male, all alike. I've talked to be people who's lives have been hindered from backstabbing friends to drugs and weapons. And honestly, it's shocking to learn these things. All these people come to school with a grin on their face, but when no one's looking, they're fighting within themselves, against others. No one knows the nature of their home, near their home, or rather, outside of school. Ignorant of what violence occurs, or what peace there is. And there's always that hidden lock in our hearts, sealing away our secrets. We all want to throw away the key that walls between the world and our souls, but never able to bring ourselves to let go. We thrust our fists out to the sea, but our fingers still clasp tightly around the key. The key we so longingly want to give to someone else to hold, but we just can't. We all try to drive the tough seat, but it seems we'll all crack once the gun is up to our head. Too afraid of what people will think. Too afraid what people will say. Too afraid what people will do. Why are humans so frightening, yet so timid? Perhaps it's because we judge people too fast and its too late to realize we treat others the way we don't want to be treated.

Your Sterotypical Snail

When I entered my room today only a few minutes ago, coming back from the library, and the sunlight was slanting into my room through the shades. For some reason, I found deep comfort being there and there was a strange realization that, this was my room. It's not like I never knew my room was . . . well, my room. I guess I just never acknowledged it as my room and only my room? Since I've always used to share my room with my sister, who's moved many of her things with her upstate. That or I'm just really slow. Anyhow, I'd love to stay and chat longer, but I need to finish my homework. I'm a bit tired, so I'd prefer it if I didn't stay up until eleven doing homework.

Fear of My Life

Well, what do you know, here again around the same time. I think. Anyhow, I may seem like in a humorous mood, but I've just been scarred for life. Why, you might ask? Besides the fact that I just had the most terrifying moment in perhaps my entire life so far, my respect for my parents took a major step down. Okay, so to be blunt, I saw a cockroach. If you guys haven't realized, I have a huge fear of bugs. Even if they are ladybugs or butterflies, insects in general scare the life out of me. Ants are the only ones that can be near me without me totally freaking me out, because I passed that phase years ago after I realized that it's impossible to escape them. But a cockroach. THE VERY NAME COULD SEND ME TO H---. I was watching an anime I recently discovered. It's called Lovely Complex, it's cutely romantic and it's really funny, I totally recommend it. But enough of that. So there was a really loud fluttering sound and before I know it, that huge, disgusting, vulgar, vile, and down-right creepy monster of a thing appeared in my doorway and you know what I do? I just let out a big, fat scream. My parents' reaction? Zip. I had to scream "COCKROACH!" a million times. There was this one time, when my sister and I both screamed at the same time when a cricket suddenly appeared out of nowhere. My parents just continued watching their shows and my sister said to me, "It's sad how they're so used to us screaming out that they don't even bother asking what's wrong." Yeah, the sad truth. But you know, I was scared out of my mind. It was big man, big. I screamed and screamed and jumped onto my bed, held my blanket up to my head and screamed like a madwomen (I bet my neighbors were debating on whether to call the police to report a murder). My dad enters the room calmly and catches a glimpse of the cockroach midflight to my sister's bed which was right above me. My dad grumbled to himself while tossing the cover sheet around half-heartedly around and said that it vanished. Then he left to report to my mom that I wasn't crazy and that there really was a cockroach. My mom's response, "Really? Ah, this is going to be troublesome." Then they go back to watching their stupid drama. THEY GO BACK TO WATCHING THEIR STUPID DRAMA. Dad, I understand that you work hard everyday trying to support a family and that you're older than most of my friend's parents (if my friend is their parent's first child), but I'm sitting their sobbing uncontrollably, and you act like you don't care at all. Mom, I know I'm always making a fuss, and have to deal with me a lot when you probably just want to relax sometimes, but you are just as indifferent as my father. Tell me, is that not cold at all? Am I overreacting? About either of the two things that happened to me at that moment? Am I? Of course, by then my paranoia has gone over my head and I can't help but to feel that the cockroach could even be behind me at that very moment, so I run out of there. When I was in my parent's room, I felt safe, but the thought of the cockroach made me go mad, and I started crying again. This isn't a joke when I say, I've never cried so hard before in my life. Granted, I'm a fifteen year old girl, that amount of living is insignificant to even my 22 year old sister. But I was just in there crying, and I was sure that my parents could hear me (it's starting to sound like I planned this all out . . .) and they don't even comment about it. They talk very loud, I know, I evesdrop on them all the time except when they're talking about me. Anyhow, so I crying thinking that one, my life is slowly going to be ruined by a cockroach and it's stupid spawns, but two, that my parents don't care if I'm miserable or terrified at all. You know, as a child, whenever my parents scolded me and I started crying, they'd yell at me more to go cry out of their sight. I always figured that they didn't want to see their child making such a miserable face in front of them--that or they got sick of me crying from when I was a baby and didn't know better than to cry when I was supposed to sleep)--but I'm starting to have second thoughts, except for that last part. And so I regain composure and poke my head out and ask my mom what I should do. "Do whatever," was pretty much the gist of what she said to me. Then my dad said, "I can't do anything about it if I don't know where it is." Since I decided that either I run away from home (which is pretty dumb for obvious reasons and the fact that there are even more bugs out there) or the cockroach goes. So I stood at the doorway of my room, staring and staring. I gathered the couraged to step into my room and quickly tidy my things up, just so that if the cockroach appears, it couldn't crawl into a huge mess (luckily, earlier I had the sudden urge to clean up my room a little, so it wasn't that bad). Finally it showed up, fluttered viciously and landing on an old binder I was thinking about throwing out, though I knew my answer after that thing touched it. Of course, none of those thoughts occured when I saw it. My big mouth opened again for another furious scream, and my dad came to me angrily. He looked into my room and apparently saw nothing, so he yelled at me to stop screaming, but rather to tell him where it is because he can't do anything if he doesn't know where the blasted thing is. I had a huge debate speech in my head that had to do with, I can't help but to scream because I'm just that scared and that the cockroach moves. If he doesn't run to me, it'd probably scuttle out of sight by the time he gets there, I can't even point the direction where it went, because I ran back into my parent's room again to take shelter. So after calming down when my dad left, I tried to hunt down the cockroach while tightly holding onto this belt-like-thing for stress reasons. I finally saw it, on my blue bag, by the way (I really want to throw it away now), and I managed to keep my cool and I called out to my dad where it was. I kept an eye on it except it was crawling right at me! I was backing away when my dad came to my rescue and so I ran away. My dad said something about the cockroach going into the bathroom so I should just go away for the moment, so I went into my parent's bathroom instead. I sat in the clean shower and cried with my hands covering my ears (I don't know what I was trying to not hear). After a long time and I heard the mumbled voice of my father through my hands, I knew it was over. Up to this moment, I don't know what he did with that thing, and I'm glad I don't. I just hope he didn't catch it and let it go, which I'm pretty sure he did. Just the thought of it being in his hands makes me shiver. I do give my parents credit for not being a spineless whimp like me, who still screams (though not as loudly, nor as furiously) at the sight of a cricket sometimes. I still feel like they don't care about me, though. My dad called the cockroach an "insignifcant cockroach" and I'm just like, yeah, that scared the living day out of me, if you haven't noticed. Although my parents are over a million times smarter and wiser than I am, I think I'm more sympathetic than they are.
I'll say one more thing, it's a good thing my sister wasn't around, here to witness a cockroach fly onto her bed and stay there for who knows how long. Except she did tell me that there was a cockroach in her room at Caltech (happened twice really). I laughed at her situation on AIM, but after seeing one, I think I should be b---- slapped and hanged. Though she seemed composed when she talked to me, but what the heck does that say, it was through an IM box where you can hardly communicate feelings other than "-cries-" or something like that. It's also a good thing that she's up North helping her boyfriend who's helping her move into their apartment (since they're going to live together when she goes there for gradschool) because that means she won't be sleeping in her bed for a long, long, long time. The next time she visits is probably winter vacation, since Thanksgiving is too short to come all the way down here for. It's much farther away than her other college, that's for sure. Anyhow, before she left to go help the moving in, she slept in the guest room (the room I'm in right now, actually) because it's cooler in here than our room, since there's only one wall to the outside world for the guest room, and two for my bedroom, which means that the heat transfer is less. Moving on, it was a smart move of my sister. Hopefully the cockroach didn't touch any of her stuffed animals (or any of mine, for a matter of fact!) although she'd probably keel over and worry about it when she comes home anyways. Bugs. Insects. I curse you to the ends of the world. The one thing I detest the most. It's worse than annoying people, which I won't even go on right now, and almost as bad substance abusers, normal abusers, killers, and rapers. They are just about the worst. I swear, if there was a God, he likes to send a cricket ever time I'm happy. This time, since I was slacking off from math homework again, and enjoying my show too much, He decided to send in the big guns. If I could list how many times my good days were ruined by a mere bug, this blog could not be bloated enough, and this blog has . . . an infinite amount for you to write? Point is, there's a lot, and I honestly think that the world is out to get everyone, especially on their good days.

I Always Seem to Type to Blog Title Last

Here I am as always, up during unsightly hours of the morning that could also be referred to as night. I've been thinking a lot, as always, and you know, I feel very insecure. I'm not going to go on a rampage again about feeling "uneasy" and all, this is a different type of insecurity. I think. Ages and ages before on this blog, I told a tale from years before, my childhood. If I think about what I say to people, I feel like I make it overly dramatic about having no "real" friends back then. I blamed a great deal of my old friends for using me and wanting to do nothing with me when I was long overdue. But I kind of wonder if it's really just all my fault. I was happy. I really did enjoy hanging out with them, Meghan, Erin, Mary Anne, Stephanie, Tiffany, Kayla, Caroline, Jennifer, Catherine, and of course, Michelle. During the different years, I've moved on from friend to friend, and in most cases, I never really talked to my old friends from the previous grade. She'd be busy with her new friends, and I'll be busy with mine, but it never really bothered me until the fourth grade. The story is long and has been told too many times, but it's a real-life story that I felt like changed my entire view of my friends. Betrayal and blurred memories are cruel things. All I know is that, after that day, I've accused my friend at the time for using me and backstabbing me. But is what I thought happened really occur? Is everything I told myself a lie, and all the hatred built up from falsehood? Was one of the few grudges I could never let go never existent between the two of us? Then it wasn't just her, that one girl, it was all of them. I thought ill of my old friends, but wasn't it the both of us who moved on? Wrath is a sin I am guilty of. Michelle was the only one who was spared from my criticism and judgment. After all, she was the only one who'd talk to me once in a while even after kindergarten has passed. Year after another, we'd hang out once in a while. That's how she became to be my best friend, and somehow my "only real friend". This old tale gets longer when I've learned to regret what I've thought about my friends, though the story never seems to change (As I've said in a previous post, I tend to want pity. Hey, this entire post could be filled with my pity-yearning words. I can't even understand myself anymore . . .). In the sixth grade, when my sister went off to college, it got lonesome at home, and I felt bad about never making an effort to stay friends with people for over a year. And so I ventured to enforce my friendship with Michelle. Before I entered middle school, I was torn when I learned Michelle wasn't attending the same school as me. I wanted to hold onto her, the one person who never seemed to get sick of my company and the person I worked with so much so that our bond was strong. I found that our friendship wasn't so flimsy and I would go and contact Michelle occasionally over the two years. When I moved onto high school, the first thought that entered my mind was, "I can see Michelle almost everyday again." And when the school year began, I wondered. Indeed, I got to see her, talk to her, but then she'd hang out with her friends. Of course she'd make new friends. Michelle isn't a person who'd go past the years without making an effort to be around people she likes. I made friends, people who I really enjoy being around, too. But you know, they always hang out. They go to the beach, they go to movies, they have picnics and potlucks. Some days, I would just I stand behind Michelle and listen to her talk to her friends. She'd sound so happy, and the rest of them were too, laughing until their guts hurt. And sometimes I wondered if she liked being around them more than me. I'm not that cheery of a person (go figure). I try to look on the bright side, but when it comes to the "bright side" for me, it's more like the loony side. If you hang out with me a lot (I don't know who would be reading this if they didn't), don't even pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. Laughing insanely for no reason, talking nonsense and babbling weird, happy things. I know I can be happy without being a nut, but I feel like I'm just a nut anyways all the time. By the way, I'm very self-conscious about being "weird" around people I don't really know which is usually why in class, I'm as stiff as a stick--which are actually pretty bendy, depending on it's thickness. Anyhow, I'd worry if I bring Michelle down sometimes. "Live, laugh, and laugh some more." is her motto, she told me once. Every now and then, I have an insecure moment for myself to worry about my friendship with her. One of the days happened to be yesterday, by the way. Program verification day is coming up for school, which means we need to find locker buddies and such. Last year, I was Michelle's partner, and this year, I forgot about the whole thing for so long, I was worried that someone else teamed up with Michelle (Last year, I asked her several months in advance because I didn't want her middle school friends taking the opportunity. Not like I didn't/don't love you guys, Pie.). I worried all day yesterday and I finally gathered up the courage to call (Since in truth, I get nervous about phone calls.). The line was busy and I threw my phone down dramatically then proceeded by shaking my fists at the heavens. But then I had to check if my phone was still alive. Yes, I was trying to be funny when I was typing that (Although it did happen, strangely enough.). Was anyone amused? Then, today, when my dad handed the phone over to me and I was pretty surprised when I heard Michelle's voice on the other end. I was absolutely blissed that she called me to ask if I wanted to be locker buddies with her, absolutely blissed. Right now at um, 3:30AM, I'm still very happy that she wanted to be paired up with me again. She even said sorry for not really staying touch with me, which was so nice of her, especially since I basically did nothing either . . . Guilt trip. Then we had a nice little talk about what we were going to do about our locker, and yeah. After I hanged up, I was still high on relief. Then I went back to my guilt trip. I doubt Michelle at times, about if she really wants to hang out with me or not, but then she does something for me that just makes me want to slap myself for being a bad friend and doubting her. You know, after typing for so long, and now I'm really really really tired, I went from a serious typing blog person to a person who wants to put in a random comedy video that I haven't even seen. Basically, I have no idea why I'm talking about this anymore. I had to scroll up to reread what I said earlier. Insecure. Yeah, I felt insecure about my friendship with Michelle, but now it's all better. Yay! Okay, I'm going to bed, night.

Call Me Weird Once, Call Me Wacko Twice

I feel . . . unsteady. It's like I can't really control my emotions anymore. I don't even know if this is normal. Is this what females are supposed to experience from time to time? These "emotions like rollercoasters". It's not hard for me to imagine that there's something off with me, this isn't the first time I've questioned my sanity. Lately, I feel like everytime I smile or laugh that I could cry. People may laugh so hard until they have tears in their eyes, but is it normal if you start to chuckle and you already feel tears welling up. As though there were something sorrowful about the topic you were talking about, but you felt like you had to laugh it off. I guess that could be the case, but I don't know what I'm sad about. I see my friends rather often, my family members are in good health, and I don't feel particularly lonely or depressed. I'm starting to think that the answers may lie with school. All this test preping for the SATs is just so stressing. What if I don't get high marks, or get the score I need? Studying mathematical formulas, vocabulary words, writing techniques, I just- Feel overwhelmed, I suppose? If I think about it, if this is the reason for my uneasiness, it's rather dumb. How many people, over the years have studied, studied, studied, and crammed for the SATs? But, as I look at the stack of SAT and AP books (passed onto me from Tanya, a beloved family friend who has finished with high school and is off to MIT on the East coast to persue her dreams in becoming an engineer) and my heart aches. Call me childish, but I don't want to grow up. I have high hopes for my future and I dream about it all the time, until I realize I do nothing for them. I try studying but my mind wanders and I feel dazed. I try to focus in school, but my head turns away. I do nothing for my grades when I tell myself if I keep trying harder, I'll do better, but my heart turns aganist me. I don't even pursue my own dream by writing. It's always just an opened document left untouched. I can't even follow my sister's footsteps, ones that I've avoided so much in detest. I can't even follow Tanya, who, in the end, wound up behind my sister. I feel like I'm running in cross country; everyone passes right past me, getting perfect grades and getting accepted to great schools, but I just hang my head in shame because I know. I know it's my fault for being in the back. I'm always dreaming, planning, and doing nothing. I ran away from becoming an engineer like my dad and my sister, because I knew I wouldn't work as hard as they did. What they lacked, they worked on. What I lack, I cry over. I chose to follow my hobby, writing. In the end, even if I do enjoy it more than math and science, I do nothing. And it's always someone else getting the gold medal, and it's always going to be my sister in my eyes.

Home Sweet Home

August 17, 2009
So, without really telling anyone (it slipped my mind, really), I headed off to San Diego yesterday afternoon with my family. I was kind of queasy during the ride, but I survived. I took a bunch of naps, so I wasn't all that miserable during the drive. Anyhow, we then finally made it to the hotel, Sheraton. Our room's baloney had a nice view of the nearby cay and faraway city of tall buildings. Yesterday, my sister and I just vegetated around the hotel room. My dad had a meeting--since, after all, the reason why we're here is because he has a business trip and it's not like he needs two large beds--and my mom was snoozing. On my sister's laptop we played The Game of Life (it's like the gameboard). Then night fell and my sister was dragged off by my dad to go to this dinner party. My mom and I had pizza that was being served in a restaurant downstairs. It was a pretty interesting pizza, it had some herbs in the cheese that made it taste really unique. We also had some instant noodles that my mom brought along for the trip. They were good, almost better than the pizza, if I do say so myself (I'm a noodle when it comes to noodles!).
Today my mom, sister, and I went to the San Diego Zoo. Unfortunately a business trip is a business trip up to the very end and my dad was off at meetings almost the entire day. Besides facing some occasional nausea, it was pretty fun. I saw flamingos, pandas, orangutans, lions, elephants, giraffes, koalas, polar bears, and loads of other animals. During our little adventure, we got lost. You'd think with three heads (two that are more intelligent than my own) and a map, we'd do better. But instead, we looped around the same place three times. However, if you've ever been to the San Diego Zoo you have to admit that the place is huge! Do we turn here or do we turn there? It's a maze there. Granted, I suck at reading maps and have a poor sense of direction, but really, it's not a small world after all.
August 18, 2009
show. It was entertaining, even though the sun was crisping the back of my neck. You know, I never did figure out which one of the whales were We went off to the World of the Sea today. Yes, I mean Sea World. And by "we", I meant my sister and I. According to my family, we've been to Sea World several times before, but being the nutcase I am, I have absolutely no recollection of being there. Generally, if I see a place I've been to before, even if it's been a long time since I've been there, a lightbulb shines over my head and I'm like, "Hey, this place looks familiar!" Not with Sea World, though. It was like it was my first time there. Anyhow, so on impulse, I made my sister to buy us churros and we ate our cinnamon-y treat while watching the dolphin show. Since we got there around 10-11AM, my sister decided that we'd have lunch after the show. I ended up dragging us to this Italian place. I had some tomato sauce over penne pasta with chicken and sausages flanked with a breadstick. It was pretty good, ignoring that fact that it was overpriced and the meal overall was small. Well, it was simple pasta (no spices and herbs that some restaurants like to go crazy with), the kind I like best, so it's not like I have any big complaints. Then we went to go watch the ShamuShamu. Is Shamu one of the current whales there? What if Shamu died? I mean, will the show still be called Shamu? Yeah, I had no clue what the deal was with that. Anyhow, after the show, since that one rapids ride was right there (the one just like the Bigfoot Rapids ride at Knott's Berry Farm), my sister and I went for a spin. Since I was feeling adventurous, I wanted to go ride of the Travel to Atlantis ride. Of course, my sister who has a fear of heights and rollercoasters waved me goodbye as I went in line by myself. The ride was fun. What I like about rollercoasters is that they scare the heck out of me. I mean, what's the fun of rollercoasters if there's no thrill in it? It's like watching a horror movie (which is ironic because I just can not watch horror movies, because I'll probably kneel over and die). Some people prefer to cower away and not face the fear. Whereas others go on and be a masochist so they can pee in their pants during the ride and come off saying it was the funniest thing ever. Except there are those people who just aren't afraid of the speed or drop, and they just go crazy during the ride just because. And before I continue on, did I mention there were a lot of Caucasians around? Yeah, well there were. Since I live in a place where there are a bunch of Asians haunting almost every single corner, I thought it was really strange that there were so many of them. Since I was just one person riding and I obviously can't have the entire "boat" to myself, I sat in the back of a group of Caucasian buddies. If you ask me, it was pretty awkward. Not only it was really obvious to outsiders that I was not part of their group, but they kept turning around to look at me. Was it because they splashed water on me on accident while they were messing around amongst themselves (even though it's unsafe to put your hands outside the boat!) or was it because they suddenly realized that a stranger was hitching a ride with them? Regardless of the reason, I felt very self-conscious the rest of the day. My sister met me at the end of the ride and we continued walking around, looking at the animals and such. My sister wanted us to go feed the dolphins or at least the mantarays, but being the bum I am, I complained about being tired and that I have a low endurance for walking (although I suck at running, my legs and muscles are more adjusted to running more than walking). We browsed through some gift shops while waiting for our mom to drive by and pick us up, then we left. My dad's company once again, had some kind of dinner party, but this time, my mom was picked and dragged away to the social gathering. My sister and I had some American-Japanese food. My sister had some caterpillar sushi and I had udon (ah, yes, maybe one of the best noodles of the world). After eating, my sister was gracious enough to let me steal her laptop to play Plants vs. Zombies. Yes, it is a stupid sounding game, and depending on who you are, you'll take one look at the game before saying, "It looks like a stupid game". You have to plant these plants in order to protect your house from the brain-eating zombies and stuff. Personally, I think it's a very amusing game with cute graphics when you ignore the zombies, whose limbs fall off after attacking them a lot.
So that's pretty much all the excitement that has been going on with me. Besides the ride home, but that wasn't all that fun. We drove and drove, I napped, my sister read. My sister just had to order a smoothie from Starbucks before we left the hotel so we had to stop at Jack-in-the-Box to use the bathroom because she didn't pipe up about needing to go to the toliet until after we passed two reststops. Well, since it was near lunchtime, we just ordered food there and then we ate on the rest of the way home. Back to our sweet little home.
Did I mention that I disliked staying at Sheraton? Okay, so here's the deal. It's 4AM, and the fire alarm goes off. To my family, we just heard a really annoying siren and we didn't know it was the fire alarm until my sister went out into the hall to check what was going on. We all rolled out of bed to evacuate the building when the announcer came alive and said it was a false alarm. Earlier that day there was an unpleasant small of cigarette smoke that rolled into our room through the vents. And after the announcement, the disgusting smell visited us once again. I think that our room neighbor was a crazy smoker and his thing set off the alarm or something. It wasn't just that. The next morning I had to get up to buy a stamp for a postcard and send it off on it's merry way when the alarm sounds again. My mom asked the lady at the front desk about what the heck was going on, and according to the lady, their alarms are very sensitive. Burning or small smoke could set the place into chaos. I guess it's better than the alarms not being sensitive at all until the third alarm came. There's only so many "false alarms" a person can handle. I swear that it's our neighbor because my family's always smelling cigarette smoke and I just roll out onto the cold balconey. I have enough trouble breathing without secondhand smoke! I hate smokers, they ruin everyone's life and they are ruining mine. I'm glad that my dad aren't like most smokers. Yeah, he smoked, he smokes. But he only smokes once or twice in China with his old Chinese buddies (peer pressure is bad!). Except what makes him so different is that he doesn't get hooked on it. He could smoke one cigarette and push the rest of the box away. There won't be any mood swings, no need for nicotine, nothing. Even though I really wish my dad wouldn't smoke at all (but in China, almost everyone smokes. I really hate it there, sometimes.) but I can't have the whole package, now can I?

Faces of a Face

You know how I said ages ago in a blog post that I'm always contradicting myself? No? Well, I already clarified what I'm going to be talking about. Anyhow, so I believe I found one of my main personality/behavior differences. Most people who know me like to characterize me as "creative", but sometimes I'm just a plain old copycat. I find that whether it be painting or dancing, or maybe some other activity, I'm pretty capable at mimicking the example I am given. I paint "neat" as my teacher would say, I try to get in the details that the picture I'm looking at has. When my teacher is dancing, I watch carefully and try to do exactly as she does. I don't add my little own flair to my paintings, and I don't pop in more attitude in my dancing. I'm just copying. Then again, with my writing, I always have something similar to another idea. Not the entire story, though. But one line could be from an anime I was watching, and I thought it was really insightful, meaningful, or it just sounded cool. In a game I was watching my sister play, one character said, "I don't ask you to forgive me, but I do ask of you to forget me." Don't you think that's just a great, though a bit depressing, line? Anyhow, I might work along it or say something like, "I'm not going to ask you to forgive me, but please, forget me." Wouldn't that border the line of plagiarism, though? Well, yeah, I sometimes steal really interesting lines sometimes if it seems to fit my story, other times I can think of my own lines. This is one I thought of randomly, it's supposed to work with my idea from my other post. "'This is your duty!' (name) yelled, 'Don't go running off to the dark side!' 'Dark side? How can I in this world with no light?' I yelled back." It's pretty lame, but yeah, I liked it. Well, yeah, sometimes I can be a bit creative, other times, I'm just a mirror.

If I Talk to God

I really like the song, "If I Talk to God" by The Last Goodnight. And if you guessed, "and now she's going to post the lyrics," you are correct! Just as a side note, to you religious people, or maybe even non-religious, if you find that this song is offending, I don't mean to be. Well, I'm speaking for myself, it's not like I wrote the lyrics. Except they did remind me of a time that whenever I was in a desperate situation I'd "talk or pray to God", but to other people, it just looked like I was talking to myself again. Of course, my prayers are hardly ever answered. I guess in a religious person's eyes, it's because I'm not a true believer. It is pretty selfish of me to only pray when I just want to save myself from a bad situation, but I guess it could be a desperate reflex. It isn't like I'm completely against God's existence, even though I'm technically an atheist. I'd accept His presence if someone gave me some kind of proof or show me a miracle that occurred (not what they heard from a myth, but something that happened to them) that can't be explained besides it being God's work. Isn't there a word for a person who doesn't deny God's existence but doesn't really believe in Him either?
Anyhow, back to the lyrics as promised:
You're so fragile, I know,
Some things we cannot control.
I am so selfish, it shows,
I just can't let go.
Tell me three little lies,
Everything is alright.
It tears me all up inside.
If I talk to God,
I don't know if He's listening
When I speak out loud.
I don't know if He's home.
I'm talking to myself,
'Cause no one else is listening.
Stay another day
And will it all go wrong?
If I talk to God.
I hate the words that I said,
They lay so still in my head.
I hope I never regret
If I just let go.
Goodbye to time well spent,
I've got nothing to defend,
And is this really the end?
If I talk to God,
I don't know if He's listening
When I speak out loud.
I don't know if He's home.
I'm talking to myself,
'Cause no one else is listening.
Stay another day
And will it all go wrong?
If I talk to God.
And you can feel me when you fall,
When your backs against the wall,
And you know this town we live up in
Is the loneliest of all.
And you can feel me when you're down,
And when your world turns upside down,
I know this place we're living in
Is the loneliest of all.
If I talk to God,
I don't know if He's listening
When I speak out loud.
I don't know if He's home.
I'm talking to myself,
'Cause no one else is listening.
Stay another day
And will it all go wrong?
If I talk to God.
I will be the colors in the rain,
When you're lying up and wide awake.
Hold on, hold on, I will for you.
I will be the truth inside you lies,
When you close your eyes at night,
I will, I will, hold on, for you.

Days Come and Go

I like it how Blogger, no matter how long it takes, it'll say the date and time you started typing you're post. I didn't even finish my last post just a moment ago, three days later then the date indicates. Oh well. Well, I've been tempted to type several little entries so I'm going to cramp them all in here.

Blogging, Blogging, Delete
I write a lot of blog entries, despite what my readers may or may not think, but in the end, I wind up deleting them. I don't post it, I just go to "Edit posts" and I delete my drafts. For some reason, I feel huge urges to post about something, then later I feel like there's really no point to them. Like I wanted to say something really important, but nothing comes out of my throw but vomit. It's an eyesore, and thus, I clean it up. Except, it's not like this post has any particular purpose either, though.

It's a Song Apparently
I just realized that those little words under that big picture on my blog is part of a song. I figured it was something like that, though. I imagined the song to be a little bit, how do I saw this, faster? I don't really like the song, it's too mellow for my liking, but I like the lyrics, so I decided to post them.
"Tears in Heaven" by Eric Clapton:
Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven
Will it be the same
If I saw you in heaven
I must be strong, and carry on
Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven
Would you hold my hand
If I saw you in heaven
Would you help me stand
If I saw you in heaven
I'll find my way, through night and day
Cause I know I just can't stay
Here in heaven
Time can bring you down
Time can bend your knee
Time can break your heart
Have you begging please
Begging please
Beyond the door
There's peace I'm sure.
And I know there'll be no more...
Tears in heaven
Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven
Will it be the same
If I saw you in heaven
I must be strong, and carry on
Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven
Cause I know I don't belong
Here in heaven

One Trust
"One Trust" is actually a song title by The Last Goodnight. Lately, all I can listen to are songs by The Last Goodnight, but I really like they're songs. It's a pity they only have one CD. A CD which I happen to have in my possession right now. Yes! Well, it's not really mine. It's Michelle's. Since she's a fan of them, too, and she just loved their songs so much, she just had to buy the CD. Michelle, the kind person she is, is lending it to me for the moment. I'm glad she trusts me to take care of her little treasure, even though I'm pretty clumsy. Once, a friend of mine got me a bracelet. It was so pretty and I wore it daily. Then one day, at my locker, somehow when I was reaching to get my stuff, the bracelet got hold of the corner of the locker door and yanked apart. It was devastating really. I had it for maybe a week. This is actually why I don't really like to wear accessories besides a watch on a daily basis. I normally wear a necklace or something once in a while on a special day. Other than that, I leave them in the safety of my jewelry box. Anyhow, back to the point of my blog post! So I was watching "One Piece" as always. Then it comes to the episode where Luffy's brother, Ace, appears, and I was like, "Oh yeah! He has a brother!" Well, his nakama (team, friends, "family", it has a lot of meanings you can interpret it as) apparently didn't know either. Then I realized that the crew doesn't really know much about each other, about they're pasts and all. Despite that fact, they are the best of friends. This may be a really slow update for me, but it doesn't matter if you know ever fact about your friends for them to be your friend. What Luffy and the others have, though, is the title of this blog post. Trust. They trust each other with their lives at stake. They believe that they'll pull through to save themselves and each other. Friends are no different. Sure, it's pretty important about what's occured in you're friends' pasts. They're the person they are because of what's happened to them. Except friendship, in the end, is just not friendship if you can't trust each other. If you aren't able to tell each other the truth, if you aren't able to confide with one another, and if you aren't able to trust them with your life.

Saturday Surprise
I found out that Julia's name (Michelle and Susan's friend from Tezlaff) is actually spelled Joolia. I also discovered that her last name is Ip. She certainly has an interesting name. Most importantly, I found out she's in my art class. It was Independance Day, Fourth of July, and guess which class doesn't know the definition of a national holiday? My art class at Quest. Well, it's not like I had any plans. I went to art class and entered the room when a girl turned around to see who entered the room. I stared and stared, thinking, "Isn't that Joolia?" Apparently she processed the shock faster then I did, and she greeted me with a pleasant, "Oh my gosh, hi Jenny!" along with a hug. It seems that she started art class three weeks ago, at the start of summer, just like I did last year. Anyhow, I just found my encounterment was significant. It's not everyday where you go to a potluck with some friends, then the next day you find out for the first time that one of your friends have been in your class for the past three weeks. Art class is just once a week, mind you. So it's technically for the past three classes. It's not like you can blame me for not noticing, though. Art class isn't like a normal classroom where you have an assigned seat and the teacher takes attendance. You come in when you come in and you sit where the teachers tell you to sit. The class gets fairly crowded and once you're ushered off into your seat, you get working. Whether or not you look around and talk to people depends on you, though you'll get scolded by the teachers occasionally. Me, being a well-behaved student (and having no courage to talk to anyone) I tend to glue myself to my seat for the two hours. I sometimes get up to get a quick drink from the water fountain at break, but other than that, I'm just focusing on my work. Since it was a holiday, practically everyone ditched class except people like me and Joolia, we gained the oppurtunity to meet.

Yeah, that's it. Just four, realtively short posts.

Power Shortage

I'm seriously on a power shortage. Typically, I'm rather hyper and active, even though I'm still lazy when it comes to working, but now I'm just really tired. I didn't even feel like blogging right now. But because of a random impulse to, I'm here typing. Well, it's not like you can completely blame me, cross country is pretty exhausting. Anyone who doesn't think so must not be trying hard enough. I come home, take a shower sometimes, then I go on the computer until my eyes are threatening to close on me for the next few hours, and I toss myself onto my bed and let them. I snooze for a few hours until around 1PM, usually, and I eat lunch. I watch anime on my computer as I'm eating, then I watch more anime when I'm done eating. Then I go back to sleep sometimes and don't wake up until dinner. This is becoming a hazardous lifestyle. It's unhealthy and I'm going to put on excess fat that I burned off in cross country. Basically what I'm doing is making my hard work in vain. I'm very grateful today is Friday. I can sleep in tomorrow and go to art class that allows me to just sit there for two hours and stare at my painting that I've been working on for the past four weeks, which is four days in total, since I only have class once a week. Normally it takes me only one day to finish a painting, but this one's bigger than the rest of them. I'll try to post a picture of it tomorrow. If I finish it that is. I should. I only have a few more flowers to paint and add some more details.
Putting that aside, I'll talk about my day today. It was another fun day at cross country like that blob game we were playing on Wednesday. Today was foccer, a game where we play football and soccer on the same field, at the same time. There was a frisbee in there too, being thrown around. Of course you don't have to play football, you can play soccer, vice versa, or play frisbee. The point was to just keep moving and enjoy yourself in the chaos. I thought it was pretty fun. I was just running after soccer balls that was impossible for me to catch up with and meaninglessly kicking out my legs while attempting to steal the ball. It didn't work out very well. Near the end of the game, I saw a soccer ball rolling past by a distance away, so I started to run after it. Then for a moment, I thought that I was in a dream. During that time I kind of felt like I wasn't there, like my mind blanked out. Then I suddenly realized that my face was way too close to the grass and put my hands in front of me, but I was too late to save myself. My hands were a little scuffed and the skin on the hill of my palm peeled off a bit. Except my knee was a different story. If I look at it now, there actually isn't any huge open wound or a huge part of skin was scrapped off. There's just a few small cuts, but half of my kneecap is pinkish-red, and it really, really hurts. It didn't feel as bad as before. The cross country coach dabbed some disinfectant on my knee and I stuck on the bandage my friend, Susan, got me, then I was all good to go. I left for a few minutes from blogging to go shower, and I admit, my knee didn't hurt that much as I thought it would. It did sting a little from the water, but I think that's because the biggest wound didn't close completely yet. Thankfully there isn't cross country tomorrow, because I don't think I'd want to run on my knee. I'm being a little dramatic about my little injury, but it hurts, and that's all it takes to makes me want to chicken out of practice.
Well, I talked about the future, I talked about the present, now it's time to talk about the past. Yesterday night, after staying with us for a year, my grandmother left to go back to China. I'm sad to say that I wasn't all that sad about her leaving. That's a really cold thing to say or even think. It's not like I know for certain when's the next time I'll be able to see her again. My grandfathers already died, I'm a little concerned about when my grandmothers' time is going to come. More importantly, she's family and it's not like she's ever been mean to me. I suppose I'm just a jerk like that. I'm just an unfeeling boulder that never visited her even though her room was right next door, and I never talked to her even though I said I would. There was no difference from when she was on the other side of the world. Let me talk about my grandmother for a moment. She's a short, nice, little woman. However, certain things she does annoys me without me having to think about it. Everytime I come home she'd walk out of her room and say, "You came back?" In Chinese, of course, and I'm not sure about my translationg, but it was something along that line. For some reason, after a while, it just kind of ticked off something in my mind and I was tempted to say, "Who else would it be? Dad doesn't come back until four, and Joy doesn't live here anymore." Somehow I'd hold in the nasty words and my anger would go away. But just those small acts of kindess annoyed me, and that worries me. Am I going to be this irritable person forever who gets mad at things people do, even if it was out of goodwill? Am I just going to be an uncaring person for people and never realize how much I want their company until they're gone? I'd like to blame that I can't communicate with my relatives, but I think that's just an excuse I'm pulling up to make myself sound less like a jerk. Except it is true though, my Chinese is really bad. I'm in Chinese AP in my Chinese school--I think my teachers are just too nice and letting me pass--but it doesn't change the fact that, in real life, my Chinese is low-class. I can't even understand my parents when they're talking at dinner because they're speaking way too fast and I don't know half the words they are saying. I can get a general idea what they're talking about, but I miss out on all the details, and they get annoyed if I ask them to tell me what's happening in English. I'm saying all this and complaining, but really, it's still all my fault. I don't study for Chinese school or anything, I don't practice my vocabulary or anything. Everything I learn, I give it back to the teacher (a Chinese proverb). I seriously disappoint myself sometimes. When I was a small child, I used to cry and worry that when my parents get old, like into their 60's or 70's, that they'd forget how to speak English. I know this sounds ridiculous, but it's true. You know how people get old and forget things, well, I thought since my parents aren't all that great in English (even though, I've learned in the past few years my father's pretty good in English; he used to help my sister write her first-rate essays for college) that they'd forget how to speak English and I wouldn't be able to talk to them anymore. At that time, I worked harder in Chinese school because I thought that if my parents forgot how to speak English, I'd just learn Chinese. What happened to that child, I wonder? Who am I now? A nasty, lazy bum who may have better common sense, but I feel like I was a better person when I was ignorant, innocent, and hard-working. I sometimes look at my pictures hanging on the wall, where I was still in elementary school. I know now that I wasn't a nice person, being a bully and all, but I used to be a person who was decently happy with herself. I was stupid and mean, but I used to be glad to be me. I'd have those moments where I'd wish I'd disappear, like in band, I really don't want to talk about that right now, but out on the playground, even though I was lonely, even though people didn't like me, I was proud to be who I was. Now, I don't even want to look at myself in the mirror. I disgust myself so much with my habits that I fail to change, even though I realized my faults years ago.

Add Water to My Life with a Dash of Salt and You Get Randomness

I was supposed to blog Monday, but apparently I was too busy being lazy to type. So I'm going to type about what's happened since Monday in one mass blog entry.
So on Monday, I went to cross country practice as usual, I don't remember anything particular or special about that day. Just another day of running where I felt like I was way too slow, and yet I was exhausted from trying so hard to keep in sight of the person in front of me so I don't get lost. It's a pain to be slow and have no sense of direction. I can't let let yourself fall behind or else I'll probably end up wandering around the wrong side of town--it's happened before, just not in cross country--but that means pushing myself way beyond my limit. Overworking is good, because if you're always easy-going, you'll never improve, but I feel like I could cut off my legs and it wouldn't hurt as much. I think I'll just go to Group D and work up from there. I'd hate to lower myself to that degree but I think I'll end up ticking myself off if I keep whining to myself everytime I'm running. Well, after getting home and taking a really nice shower, I took a nap. I woke up to eat lunch and then the event I was waiting for: going to Michelle's house to watch movies. Hee Soo was talking to me and Michelle about movies and realized that we have no idea what she's talking about. Since she was outraged how we haven't watched a lot of movies she liked, we decided to have a movie marathon. We wanted to make the event bigger by inviting Diana, Revathi, Yasmin, and Susan, but only Diana could make it. It was a pity the other three couldn't come, though, it was fun. So, when I got to Michelle's house, Hee Soo was already there. We waited for Diana by playing Super Smash Bros on Michelle's GameCube. I epically lost, but it was fun anyways. Then, Michelle tried calling Diana again and found that she got off the bus near her house, the only problem was that she didn't know exactly how to get to Michelle's house. So the three of us left to go fetch her. Michelle, the kind person she is, offered me her sister's scooter since I was complaining earlier that day about being sore from cross country. I don't really know how to ride a scooter, but after lots of laughs and freaking out, I got the hang of it. Diana laughed at the fact that I was riding a little pink scooter, but it was all good. I thought it was pretty hilarous when I first saw it, too. If only there were ribbons on it. Anyhow, we got back to Michelle's house and got started with that marathon. We first watched Transformers. It was pretty good, I liked the graphics and everything, even though I had little of a clue what was going on. Since we all wanted a break from staring at the television, we went into the backyard. Michelle's backyard had a pool and she said we could bring our swimsuits, but in the end, only Hee Soo brought her's. Instead, we just kicked our feet in the water, threw some toy animals in the water, scooped them out of the water with a long net, held the net up in the air above the pool and tossed the animals in it, like it was a basketball hoop, for money. Hee Soo owed me thirty dollars, but since that's pretty outrageous for throwing a plastic toy in a net, I told her that if we all go swimming that she'd have to pay for my entrance fee. I surprise myself, I'm pretty stingy about money sometimes. Well, after doing more random stuff like getting each other with a squirt gun, we went back inside to watch Click. I thought it was pretty interesting, even though the outcome was pretty obvious. I liked the ending, though, before the happy ending, because I thought it was touching that Micheal would rather die than have his son repeat his past mistakes. I don't really want to go into it since whoever is reading this might be planning to watch it themselves. I personally hate spoilers, it ruins the fun and excitement.
Tuesday morning, I had a strange dream that worried me a bit. I don't recall where it was all taking place, I think it was at school. I was talking to my friends when they told me that hated me. Then they ran off, wanting nothing to do with me. I ran after them, but then they just vanished. I spent the rest of my dream wandering around, looking for people, but I wasn't sure who. I talked to a lot of random classmates, but no one ever seemed to be the one I was looking for. My dad shook me awake at that moment. In my dream, it seemed to me that I missed school and everyone there more then I claim to be. I don't partiularly like to admit I'm lonely. When I was in the sixth grade, when my sister left for her first year of college, I thought, Joy's going to be off on her own; I wonder if she'll be lonely without me, Mom, and Dad. When she came back home for a visit, a few weeks later, she looked pleasantly happy. Her roommate's great, her classes are a bit hard, but she likes her classes, and she enjoys walking around on campus. Probably, a hidden part of her was lonely, but back then, I thought that she wasn't sad at all about leaving us. And so, I thought, if Joy doesn't miss us, then I won't miss her. It was inevitably obvious that I did though. There was never anyone to talk to me and I'd always get into an arguement with my parents if I tried talking to them. I'd talk to my stuffed animals at home, to myself at school. People thought I was a freak for talking to myself. I don't understand why people think those who talk to themselves are weird, I think they're just lonely. It may seem like we're talking to an imaginary person, but it's just that there's no one willing to recieve those words besides ourselves. We could talk to ourself in our minds like most "normal" people, but, to me, I was afraid to stop talking to myself, because everything around me would be eeriely quiet. Now, though, I'm better at appreciating the silence. There's no need to fill in every blank. It's not necessary to answer every blank in life because there are no answers known. The world is filled with infinite mysteries making life a huge, complicated mystery itself. "The man who strives to solve the world's infinite mysteries is a fool."
Tuesday morning, there was more cross country. Yasmin ran with me today out of pity and was bugging me to run faster. At least I didn't walk, so I guess that's an achievement. Then, at night, we met again at dance class. We don't really talk much in class, there's not anything to say, if you ask me. She said she was looking forward to dancing with me in class again, but I actually don't know what's the big deal. If you ask me, it's more fun running with her than dancing.
Wednesday at cross country was pretty fun. We ran for fifteen minutes and then we played a game called "Blob". We have a partner, mine was Revathi, and we have to have our arms linked or we have to hold hands, either way, we have to stay together. There's one pair, though, that has to tag other people, then they have to join the link of people, forming a "blob of people". The downside was that we ran and played on the grass, so my feet were soaked. It was okay, though, I just had to wash my feet when I got home. Around 2PM, my mom and I went to the library to sign up for the summer reading program, as we do every year. I mean, come on, it makes me read and I get free prizes at the end of it. The summer reading program is awesome! Anyhow, after that, we went to Ross, since my mom had to return some clothes and we looked around for clothes.
Well, that was pretty much all the excitement that happened that last few days.

Angel-Tear Moments

It's pretty late, 12:47AM. I was too busy goofing around on Facebook to blog about this earlier, but I'll just do it now. Well, today was my friend, Tanya's, graduation from Whitney high school. She was a valedictorian and everything. She's just like my sister, isn't it a shame that I can't follow in their footsteps? Oh well, self-satisfaction is more important? Yeah, I'm not very pleased with myself, so that kind of failed already. Anyhow, as I was saying, her graduation. I hold a bit of a grudge towards Whitney students because they're so exclusive with their students, I really don't like some of the people my age there because they just used me for their purposes in elementary school, and most importantly because my parents always wanted me to go there. They wanted me to be this smart, overachieving child like my sister. Big laugh right there. Well, today, as I listened to the valedictorian speeches, I felt touched by their words and almost cried. It's pretty embarrassing with my sister on one side and my piano teacher on my other. Since my old piano teacher teaches Tanya, too, so she was invited along to the ceremony. My piano teacher's really cool, she's really involved with her student's lives, but not in a nosy way. She's like a second mother to us. Unfortunately, I had to disappoint her as well by never practicing the piano, always messing up during the recitals and crying in front of the judge like an utter fool, then I just quit. Man, I'm really chewing myself out today. Anyhow, as I attempt to get back on track, the speeches were wonderful. I wish I was able to quote their words about happy endings and new beginnings, able to quote their words with the same amount of spirit as they had at the podium. One said how when people think of Whitney, they think of nerds, but that particular valedictorian loved basketball. However, due to an unfortunate event, he was put in the hospital. "I awoke with not only my family around me, but my friends and my basketball team. Even though I was told I probably wouldn't be able to play basketball this year, with my friends' and team's encouraging words, I didn't lose hope." He talked about the bonds of the family-like sport teams and that even though, to his great dispair, he was unable to play his in his final basketball season of high school, he was able to gain something greater. He was able to become greater friends with his teammates, ones that would last a life time. His speech, even though I loved Tanya's, was the best in my opinion, and sticked in my mind. Well, before the valedictorians, an English teacher had a speech of his own for the graduation address. It was just as grand. His words were funny and touching at the same time, filled with emotion for the students he watches walk away every year. Some come back. Some don't. I wondered about my graduations. We'd all be walking away on different paths. Who knows when or if we'll be able to meet again, my friends and I. But the English teacher, staying true to the subject he teaches, wrote a poem to his students called "The Garden". I wish very much that I was able to absorb every word he said. This isn't even a close imitation of his words, but it's like a blend of what I thought he said and what I thought he meant: "All of you started as seeds that teachers have watered everyday, and look at you grow into trees. I still think of the moments when we were together in class, laughing together, although most of the times you were all laughing at me. But I'll really cherish the times we talked outside of class and were able to get to know each other. And although I may never see you again, I'll look up towards the sun and look for your leaves." Maybe my dad recorded his speech. If that's the case, I'll try to post it up on here, or at least type out his words.
I hope, and yet, I'm sure, I'll meet my friends again, after we've seperated ways. Even if we don't, I'll still remember them vividly in my memories. If not my memories, my heart. I'll look up at the sky every now and then, just to think of them, even for a moment, and wondering if they're thinking of me. Whether we're close friends or distant, I'll remember them and hold tight onto the precious times we've had together. Even the people I said that I hated, the ones who go to Whitney. I still remember them, all the times we've had together in elementray school at recess. Even though I felt like I flipped through friends like the wind to an open blank book. One or two new friends a year, just people I'd hang out with during recess. If not a new friend, there was Michelle, the one person I felt that really understood me behind my violent exterior and liked me because I was me. Not for my food nor for my pens or pencils. She wanted to hang out with me because I was Jenny, as I wanted to be around her because she was Michelle. Even if it's Michelle, my best friend, I wonder if she'll remember me in ten, twenty, thirty years. We'll go to different places, meet new people, make new friends, maybe find someone we'll love for the rest of our lives. However, I'm confident that I won't forget. And hope they'll remember me once in a while, too, my friends, my classmates, everyone. I don't count on it, but I hope and, although I do not believe in God, I pray.

It's You, Not Me

Why is it that when we get scolded by people, assuming that it's for your own good, that you still feel angry at them? I'm having my sister correct my math homework, since pretty much what's on it, all four worksheets of it, is going to be on the final tomorrow. Well, as the typical me, I was messing around on Facebook at the same time and my sister was getting on my case about getting my butt off it. I got angry at her for a moment but I managed to calm the swears in my head, convincing myself that I'm at fault. I have an issue with being wrong. I guess I'm like my mom in that perspective. We hate to be wrong and try to blame others most of the time. In elementary school, the fifth grade, I used to have a friend that I'd play with all the time during recess. One day, this other girl, who seemed to be a a friend of my friend. I'm confusing myself, since I prefer not using names, I'll just use girl A and B. Okay, I'm friends with girl A, then girl B, who seemed to be a friend of girl A, told me that girl A said, "Jenny never says sorry". Something like that, along with the lines that she hates me, girl A. Since then, I've always been pretty conscious of what I say. I'm always afraid of talking because I'm either going to say something rude, something mean, and never sorry. I feel apologetic, but what good does it make if I tell myself that? I already know I'm sorry, it'd do me some good if someone else, particularly the person I hurt, knew, too. Anyhow, my point is? I feel like I need a focus on my ranting. I can switch from one topic to a million different ones that hardly relate. Let me move back to what I was talking about earlier.
So, why is it that we, people, always seem to get angry when we get in trouble, when it's our fault? Another example of that, which is not about myself, is at school. No chewing gum is an obvious and known rule. I doubt that anyone is completely oblivious to the rule's existence. So why people keep chewing gum in class? I don't know. I personally don't like gum very much. Anyhow, so a girl in my class is chewing gum in class, doing a bunch of things against the rules like listening to her I-pod. So the teacher tells her to spit out her gum and took her I-pod away. Since I sit near her, I got to hear a nice chain of curse words aimed at the teacher. If she was new to the school and it was her first day, it would seem just a little bit unfair for her I-pod to be taken away, she should be given a warning. But no, that's not the case. She has been warned several times and teacher just got fed up with it. She should have listened to the teacher rather than rebel. Why do people rebel right upfront against people, teachers especially? If we listen to them, it'd all be okay, people wouldn't in trouble, and they wouldn't get mad at the teachers for punishing them. It seems to me like the uncooperative students are the reason for their own suffering and anger.

Tell Me the Reason Why

It's past midnight, I need to wake up early for school tomorrow (today) to turn in my textbooks, I still need to last minute cram for my English and Spanish finals, so why am I here? I don't even know why myself. I just feel like a little rant. My friend sent me an email saying "don't you sometimes wish Life was like a Word document? You can use the scrollbar to whiz past the ugly moments of life, the undo button to undo mistakes, the "Find" tool to find missing things, the highlight thingy to highlight the good parts of you and have people not focus on the bad things so much." I was just like, wow. I don't know how to say this. "Deep" is the word? "Good reason"? I'm at a loss of words a lot lately. Not good since I'm shifting into a writing mode for the summer. Anyhow, I was just impressed by something she said. Then I kind of wondered what if we could do those things. I remember a time in elementary school, I played so much video games over the summer, came back to school, and when I messed up, I actually thought, "Where's the restart button?" I feel really dumb for thinking that, but what if there was one? You could start everything over so it's right. You could do things your way, have the life you wanted. What the point, though? To be happy? What about other people? Let's say you want to be with a guy, so you use that "restart" button to your advantage so you end up with him? What about another girl who wanted that guy? Would she have a "restart", too? If she ends up taking your man from you, what would you do in response? Have a "restart" war? Ignore my really weird example for a moment and think about it. Someone is going to have to be miserable. The only thing is to toughen up. The world is not full of smooth roads and if you trip, you've got to wipe those tears out of your eyes, get up, and keep going. "Suffering builds character", I quote from The Wanderer by Sharon Creech.
I've watched many animes and read plenty of books where the creator expressed their view on the "meaning of life". What really is the meaning of life? I wonder. It seems like it can be anything. I guess whatever floats your boat, that's the meaning of life to you. To me, I think the meaning of life is to experience things. Live for the sorrowful and painful times (I don't mean to be masochistic). Yearn for those happy and carefree moments. Feel all sorts of emotions! Feel love, sad, happy, envy, pain, joy, sympathy, apathy, excited, anger, lust, sinful, crazy, sick, anxious, embarrassed, satisfaction, nervous, hurt, elated, shocked, depressed, emotional, and so many more feelings! Meet different people with unique looks, personalities, hobbies, and talents. Encounter millions of events that could happen only for you. Our lives are different, let's explore them and realize "no one will have the same life as mine". May we relish the good and bad times is dependent on the person, but I, for one, feel like my life would be empty if I left a blank where all the bad times were supposed to be. I'd still feel empty if I only experienced happy feelings, because I've never seen the other side or know what it's like. If bad feelings were erased entirely? If there was no such thing as negative feelings, that's a different story for another day.

Flaws are Only Seen when You Take a Step Back

I need to do my math homework, but I wanted to talk about an interesting person I've encountered today. I didn't really talk to her, more like observe her. So my sister came home today and had to go to this place where she got laser eye surgery, to get her eyes checked up. Her appointment was at 2PM, which is normally when I have art class. My parents just moved the time back, so I went at 4. Obviously, when I got there, there were different people than there would have been two hours ago. I sat down to paint and it wasn't until after 45 minutes when I paid attention to her. She sat diagonally behind me, so I couldn't look at her unless I turned around, which is obvious and rude. Anyhow, apparently she was painting a portrait of herself for school and it was due on Monday. She kept sighing irritably loudly and groaned angrily when the teacher tried to help her. She talked to this other girl she knew in the class, saying how the teacher doesn't teach her how to do anything. He picks up the brush and paints on your painting, telling you to watch how he does it, but not to touch what he did. The girl was angry at the teacher because she thought it looked weird, not only that, she said, "Even if this ends up looking beautiful, I'm not going to be proud of it because I didn't paint half of this. I liked the neck, but the teacher went and ruined it. I kind of like the hair because I did part of it." In a way, it annoyed me, yet it made sense that she was frustrated. She seemed like the kind of person, to me, who have a great sense of independence? I'm not sure how to say this, but she seems like the kind of girl who'd look in the mirror and beat herself up or insult others because she didn't do something herself. I found her to be an interesting person, not because of her personality, but it reminded me a little of myself. To clarify, when I was still playing the piano, I'd always sigh and make unhappy faces whenever my teacher corrected me. Whether or not I liked it, she was helping me, and her patience was ever-enduring. I pity that she, my family, my friends, had and have to deal with me sometimes. I feel like I just realized that now, though. How rudely I behaved when my piano teacher was trying her best to help me. It's sad how people under appreciate others sometimes, and don't realize it until much later. Rather, it's sad how people don't realize that they're mistaken until another person with that flaw passes before their eyes and then they think, "was I ever like that?" Some people, actually, don't care or even recognize it. They complain about people they know and say what they don't like about that person, and it's funny when that's what other people hate about them! Am I even being coherent anymore? I'll give an example. Let's say a loud person complains about another person who is also obnoxiously loud, and the people listening is wondering if they should tell the person complaining that they are practically complaining about themself. Something like that. I don't know what my point is anymore, now.

Calm of the Storm

I feel a strange tranquility. A moment ago I was frustrated and irritated. Now, I just feel calm and at ease. I don't understand this odd sensation of my soul. I noticed it this morning. I felt so mellow and calm that it disturbed me.
A few moments ago, in the car, on the way from school, I got annoyed with my mother for not listening to what I was saying. I was telling her that I'd have to go to school early in the morning tomorrow to turn in a textbook, then a few moments later, she asks me when I needed to go. This happens everyday, and that's what really makes me angry. Once in a while, I wouldn't mind, she has lots of things to think about, too, I'm sure of. Except it's everyday. Everyday when I talk to her, she doesn't seem to listen, and if she does, it goes in one ear, out another (there's a chinese proverb for that). When I need to go somewhere and tell her what time to go, I'm always late because when I need to go, my dad, since my mom's too lazy to drive me, sees me and says he didn't know that I have to go now. I tell him I told mom, but then she chimes in and demands that I said nothing to her. I really feel like my mother has an issue with being wrong, too. No matter what, it's either my dad's fault, my sister's fault, or mine, she's never wrong or something. I don't remember a time when my mom easilly admitted, "Oh, I'm sorry, that's my fault." She always has to blame it on someone or something else. Anyhow, going back on track, I was really ticked at my mom and then I got home and sat down in front of my desk. Then there was that sudden enlightment again. I felt lighter somehow, it made my head feel like it was spinning. Then I was at peace with myself and everything else. Prehaps I'm bipolar or extremely moody, I can't tell the difference between the two.

Vocals?

I'm not even close to being done with my homework, but I was just singing along to this one song I like, "Poison Kiss" by The Last Goodnight, then I wondered what my voice sounded like. Since the Eustachian canal (if I recall correctly from Biology) connects your ears to your jaws, or something like that, does that mean you hear yourself differently then others? Because whenever you record your voice and listen to it, you're just like, ew, stop it! Is it the microphone that's being used at fault or is that really the voice people hear? But when your friend records their voice, it sounds just the way they sound. It maybe a little weird, but it's basically it, that's their voice. I wonder sometimes what other people hear and see.
At some point in my life, in elementary school perhaps, that we can only see out of our own eyes. It seems like I was a little behind on the update, but I felt really confused. I don't really recall the emotion, but I my head was spinning for a moment as I thought about it. What does everyone else see? What does everything mean to them? What's it like to not be about to see? It seems pretty simple in a way, but I, then and now, feel it's really complicated.