Pocket of Secrets

Mood: happy; neutral
Currently: watching Nabari No Ou Episode 10
Listening to: (watching) Nabari No Ou Episode 10

"There are three kinds of secrets. Something that you hide at the bottom of your heart because you don't want it to be mentioned. Something that you can't mention even if you want to. Something that you hope someone asks about even though you're hiding it." Nabari No Ou Episode 10

Dude, I have like, no homework today. Well, except for math, but still. This is one of those rare moments in my life where I will have this little homework, I need to celebrate or something. And catch up on my sleep. Oh my goodness, with all this free time, I suddenly want to do everything. I want to write, I want to read, I want to run, I want to sing, I want to dance, I want to play video games, I want to draw, I want to paint, I want to laugh with my stuffed animals, I want to try playing the piano again, I want to dig up my old flute and try to play a few notes, I want to play board games and chess with myself, I want to sit on the bench in my backyard and sip hot chocolate while getting startled by passing-by bugs, I want to climb up a tree and pretend I have a tree house as my secret getaway, I want to sit on the swing of the fruit tree in our front yard before it was cut down, I want to play Yu-Gi-Yo with the neighborhood kids on the cement that paved over what used to be our front yard, I want to play handball against my garage, I want to chase stray cats while barking as if I were a dog, I want to sit in my room in the dark with my blanket hanging above my head and a flashlight as a campfire as eat those Korean chocolate mushroom snacks with my sister, I want to do it all over again, just for the heck of it. But such hopes never come true. I can only close my eyes and think, "Ahaha, yeah, those were great times. It was nice to live in ignorance and bliss. Feeling miserable over the silliest things and getting over it for no reason at all."

This girl in my journalism class was complaining to the peer counselor in our class about the most interesting person I've yet to hear about. This person is probably a genius, one who has topped the intelligence of my sister. "She's a valedictorian of Whitney high school, takes hard classes (honors and APs and such), AND volunteered in India for a while, AND volunteered at shelters, AND (she listed a huge list of things, I swear), AND you know what? She has time to go shopping and she has such great style. I swear, she is the best looking nerd you will ever see. I envy her so much, I mean, I dress like a hobo, I'm struggling to get my 'A's. Yet she has gotten 4.0's every year, and I've known her all my life. God, I just don't understand how there people who can do that stuff. And you know, I'm so freakin' worried about college, I really want to go to Berkeley, but I don't do anything. And I don't even blame my parents, they've done everything to help me. Like this one time, you know how my thing is singing right? So my mom made me join this one contest thing and I would have probably gotten first place if I wasn't so stubborn and say, no I don't want to. And now that I look back, that would have looked so good on my application, because you know, no one ever does that stuff. Ugh, and I also went into the Cerritos (insert whatever she said, I don't remember) Talent Show thing and won first place for four years, but then I just stopped. Ugggh. I've s----ed myself over."
It was interesting, secretly smiling to myself. How strange. I have the strangest and smallest hope that I would also be able to go to Berkeley, but listening to this girl crack at how she thinks she won't make it into Berkeley when, as far as I know, has done more than I have. Makes me wonder, if she doesn't make it, I wonder what will happen to me. I didn't have to think about it. A lot of people in journalism has the dream of going to Berkeley, and yet again, I smile to myself quietly. In regards to overall grades, I'm probably in the 26th place among the 28 students. And as I don't try and as I silently listen to these people tear their hearts out at the thought of not making it into Berkeley, I can't help but to smile. Why? It's fascinating to watch my own life, full of opportunities, pass me by, as if I were watching my own life from a third-person's point of view.
Life, so fleeting, but I have little desire to lift my heavy feet and catch it. But if I say "little desire", does this mean I still want to make an effort to make what's disappearing in the distance mine? Heh, I thought of an interesting metaphor. You know how some Japanese (?) have like a sort of ramp with running water on it, then they put soba (?) at the top, and the noodles run down with the water, and you have to catch it in order to eat it. It's kind of like that. To eat, you must catch it, if you don't act, the chance will either float away or someone else will take it.