You're a Walking, Talking Contradiction

Thanks for tuning in to another episode of "Little Orphan Annie Finds Her Way Home."

But unfortunately, we aren't airing our regular joe-schmo slapstick. Instead, I will entertain you with some fortune cookie wisdom that even Panda Express would be jealous of:

Some developments of the past 3 days:

Why is facebook the first thing I go to when I have to write an essay?
Confucius say: You fricking rebel. Do ya thang, and remember "What Would Kels Do?"

British accents make you sound smarter. "Hwatt-eh-vah"

Conjunctival hemorrhages are a beautiful thing. Vulnerability forces you find your real strength.

Life would not be worth living if you don't continue learning everyday.

Time heals all wounds. But scars never fade. *for some reason this came to mind, and I thought of Justin-Bobby. Oh Hills, how I missed the way you rotted my mind with useless, artificial thoughts.

Now....Global Studies. Go DO yourself.

Status on parentals: Negative, I would go as far as to say it has flatlined. My grandpa that I talk to once a week and lives light years away feels like more of a parental figure than both of my biological immediates combined. That's saying something. Love you grampa, you are my hero. (If you were listening/reading, I would tell you): no one else has ever believed in me as much as you have, trusted me as much as you have, and made me want to make the world a better place as much as you have already done for me.

Mother, there is nothing I want to say to you in person. You have already broken my heart, broken my spirit, and there's nothing that can bring that part of me back. The past few weeks have felt like a vacuous blur, with little to laugh, cry, think about because of how cheated I have felt. But I am an adult, I don't need you, and I don't think I ever will again. I will never be to my children what you were to me, a knife in the back, a slap on the face, a negativity that would have suffocated me to death if not for this "new freedom" you have bestowed upon me. You have been a wonderful anti-role model. And for that, I thank you.

xoxo,
Gossip Girl (or rather, Honest Girl)

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A Future in Law?

Am I meant to be a political scientist?

I often find myself wandering the halls of the Political Science department thinking, what am I doing here? Being creepy? Diplomatic jargon doesn't suit my fancy, so what gives? Besides my ineptitude at keeping up with the debates, what can make me my major (the major that's supposedly breeds the most argumentative assholes of a generation)?

Maybe one more year will. As I have sadly missed the resume drops of my favorite companies, I might just have to linger around for that fourth year instead of graduating after this summer. I might need it to find myself, instead of finding who I want to be (a thankless futile task if you ask me).

I think about my future like it's this big monstrous toad that is staring at me, waiting for me to attack it and conquer it. But yet, at each swipe, it moves a little further out of reach.

A combination of remorse, fear, uncertainty piles up, and its times like these that I just want to hide from that toad, pretend like it's just a figment of my imagination (which it is, but that's for me to see).

I'm approaching the big 2-0. And it's a crazy prospect to be out of my teens and on to full-on adulthood. At the same time I see teenyboppers who dress too old for their age, and I think...that's me. I'm who they are trying to be, but I'm already there. It's as if the person finally fits the clothes. But all the while, I'm losing all sense of why I'm here, in college, working towards a goal that is fading out of sight.

And then, while I'm wading in these mudholes of self-pity, I get these bursts of superhuman motivation that force me to flaunt myself at recruiters, send out a billion resumes, and answer interview questions effortlessly.

That person...needs to show up now....

Or else I'm going to Africa.

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This is me - Not "Camp Rock"-style

If you really want to read this, adjust your screen font type aka press Ctrl and "+". Here goes another random stream of consciousness blahg post.

If reading this seems like a tedious, pointless waste them skip to the bottom where you can view the results of my current nerd phase.

I've made my share of mistakes, but experience has taught me to turn all these regrets into empowerment for my future endeavors. We live and we learn, right? But is this just talk and not action? I think so. I'm just as fragile as the starry-eyed 9 year old girl I was ten years ago.

So sideways, I'll run to that shining beacon in the distance, I'll fall on the floor, get trampled on, but I'll get up, trudge on blindly, and unleash a healthy can of whoopass on anyone who tries to stop me...What in the world? Who does this? Superwoman? A deaf and dumb dimwit with a juicy steak as his guiding light?

Some authoritative article told me that the top entrepreneurs with the highest salary had a 1.9 GPA average in college, I call that wasting your education..aka dimwitted...and yet each of them gets his juicy steak. And yet, a hardworking girl whose self-respect is deteriorating from the lack of respect given to her, is heading toward a path of destruction.

Respect is not earned, nor should it be expected, it's a conditional, frictional, sonuva-b, that keeps me in a cycle of defensiveness, the superficially thickened exterior duking it out with my traditional principle of "saving face".

People can respect you on certain terms, that change, all the frickin time. I can't live for other people, but I need to feel respected or maybe in a way..."accepted". Ew, I digress, this is not high school "pubescent angst".

I'd like to think I'll stay happy, I'll stay young, but I can't stop change. It's undeniable. The inevitabilities of the world, the elevated awareness that follows me everywhere I go, is like a ball-and-chain, slowly draining me of optimism, keeping me from exerting my full potential.

I'm not always Plath-like, or emo (for lack of a better word)...looking at old pictures made me realize how quickly I've changed, but no change has stayed permanent, and it seems more like I've been assuming roles that didn't suit me, but I so wanted to be that person, thinking once I put on the chicken costume, I'll find my true happiness.

No, instead, I just felt silly, awkward, as if I was living in someone else's skin. And when someone criticized me in those moments, it was an frustrating out of body experience. I could not explain myself, cuz I couldn't recite anything beyond the cliche that I had rehearsed as part of the "act".

Folk music is now my sweet remedy. It takes me back to the past when things were simple, and makes me believe I am in my own skin, that I know myself better than the next person.

But take out the earphones, and I'm mad. Mad at the criticisms I didn't deserve, because frankly, I didn't learn to be a better person from these people. I learned to loathe and harness ill will for people who killed my pride and for things I couldn't control. Suddenly the phrase "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" is my reality.

Maybe it's easy for you to forget, "not care" or "be strong", but frankly that's the benefit of being naturally ignorant, you roll with the punches, you swallow thumbtacks with a smile, you're almost born without emotional nerve endings, but I have too many of those and I'd gladly donate a few to you. Like I've told my grandpa, when he lectures me on the very opposite of survival tactics in Western society: I'd rather be blind. It's better to see the world through cloudy lenses where everything is hazy and glorified, than to live with the painful disappointment of clarity. Blissful ignorance is the key to happiness...and life.

Thus, I've made my point... in the form of a circle, or rather an infinite black hole, however you want to look at it. I'm aware...I make things more complicated than they have to be.


Astigmatism sounds like a venereal disease.

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Smallness

Some recent developments (this is what happens when you spend your nights scouring the web for "Baby Einstein" music for your 4 month old cousin and Pavarotti's Best Of Collection for your Grandpa. After listening to them, I can now belt Caruso in my sleep).

I've made an astounding revelation..

Life in LA, well at my school at least, runs pretty much parallel to life in China. There are so many Asians. For all you non-Asians, take a walk in my shoes please. You feel so small, and part of something so massive, that you're squeezing your face through cracks in the crowds for a breath of fresh air. You feel so unoriginal, so fake, so unmotivated to stand out, cuz anything that you want to do, has been done, and everything you want to get, has been gotten. When I leave a home (that's what I call a place I've adapted to with people I care dearly about), it seems like the only thing to do is fear for the transition into a different reality, and make unfair comparisons.

Every time I take a break for the summer, I have to reevaluate life. It's just natural for me, to separate myself from the social me, and just find myself again. Sometimes I get so lost trying to be what others want me to be, I forget how great it was just to be who I was all along.

It's so cliche, I know. But I just wanted it be out there. I'm not just another girl. I feel degraded when people stare at me like a piece of meat, (not flattered or "so hot" like the Wonder Girls). No, that's not me. I'm not just another Asian who's good at math.

1. First of all, I'm Asian, I look, speak, and listen to Chinese, I was raised Canadian, but if it's not my daily way of life, don't go around talking about my culture, or heritage, or ancestors as if you're in my effing boat. I don't ask you why you have a mole in your armpit, don't ask me why I have freckles, I just do. So suck it. I'll gladly discuss more pertinent information than my skin color...like cars for example..I love Bugattis.
2. Second, I hate math, I suck at it, I've only loved three things with all my heart in my life: music, biology (just ask my family of doctors), and writing. And currently I'm not making the most of any of my talents or passions. I'm not stick-skinny. I won't ever be, I hope to God. From my grandma, I've learned being healthy trumps all. You can't be happy if you're not healthy.
   

I'm not just who I appear. I'm so much more. But it's a shame, you don't take the time to look twice, and see past the pained grin and forced giggle.

I often think about failure before I even make a plan of action. The neurotic perfectionist inside of me has stopped me from doing so many things that would have I been successful at, and as a child I wasn't this scared. Growing up has not only humbled me, it's debilitated me, making me second guess everything. And I think it's time I've let go...and be 10 again.

On my nice 14 hour flight back to LA, these are things I'm not going to think about, talk about, or dream about. I'm just going to live it. Cuz pulling another Grey's quote out of my @$$.."life's not supposed to be this hard."

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Resolutions

Who says resolutions are only for January firsts? No, I say. I'm making one today: Shorter posts. Cuz one can only rant for so long.

What I am doing right now: Watching Grey's Anatomy at 5AM. All nighter with some deep thinking and Grape-flavored Mentos.

Hold that thought...realization: I want to become a physician/pediatrician. Can old dreams really be rekindled? Can I be who I was meant to be? Rgg. Listening to Pavarotti and Yo-Yo Ma has really put me in fatalist mindset. 120g of Mentos eating away at my teeth...time to brush.

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