idek

Yesterday was one of the best days I've had in this year. So firstly, my classes didn't seem to bite at me, even though I was in a rush to finish some homework in the morning. My lunch was delicious, a chicken bake from Costco. It's the ultimate lunch, I swear. Hot and crisp, yum! Soggy and squished, still yummy! That cheered me up quite a bit. Then I felt like I productively bonded with my friends today. I got to talk to Diana and such. Mingled with Emily and company. I had a chance to hang out with Hee Soo, Yasmin, and Revathi after school, since Hee Soo made me go to this cross country event. That was pretty fun. My chief editor, Janet, said hi to me afterschool when she saw me on the bleachers. I got to say hi to one of the page editors that I've gotten to know, Ryan, and cheer for him on as he ran. So that was nice.
Strangely, I feel really depressed now, though. I don't even really want to talk about it.

I Don't Know

Untitled.

I feel that the wind could stir everything.
Not one that glides across
The surface of the Earth,
But from the universe.
Under the sun,
The planets gather like rain clouds
And meteor showers
Rain on the world.
Thunder cracks.
Cracks on the sidewalk.
Light blooming,
Blooming flowers.
Roaring cries,
Crying people.
Hurricanes don't startle us more
Than the breeze of the universe.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Fluttering skies.
Step.
Step.
Vibrating air.
Bang.
Bang.
Uncomfortable pain,
That's seems so small
When the universe wind blows.

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.

I'm Losing the Will to Live

I wonder if spirits exist. Today, on the Chinese holiday, the Moon Festival, my dad held a small ceremony for his father, my grandfather, which he hold in the backyard every few months. My grandfather died a few years back, and my father would sometimes take the framed picture of his father to the backyard, bring food out, burn fake Chinese money, and burn incense and candles. He would go ahead burning the money, and then after he finished a package, he stands there in a moment of silence. I wonder what he thinks during that time. For the weeks after my grandfather passed away, I was not allowed to go to his funeral because of school. So at home, I'd face a corner and just sit there. I wondered if I prayed to my grandfather there, if he'd hear me. If he did, if he was there, everywhere, would he understand English? Would my poor Chinese grammar allow him to understand what I'm trying to say to him. I'd sit there just once in a while and talk to him through my thoughts. If I was at home alone, I'd talk outloud. sometimes I'd talk about my day, others I'd tell him my guilt. I wonder . . . if he's proud of me. Does he approve of my decisions, my beliefs, my actions? Will he understand why I choose to follow the path I do? My beliefs are messed up, but they're mine. Would he respect me for trying to protect what I believe?
Is he there, though? Is there an afterlife? What is the point of living if you're going to die and there's nothing? My history teacher, who's also the psychology teacher told us why she thinks different cultures have their own beliefs, or rather, why mankind try to make themselves believe there is an afterlife. She said it's because we want some sort of result from our actions on Earth. To hope those who did wrong, God, the underworld, or their next life will punish them. Those who are good are rewarded somehow. But really, there's no point in living if we get nothing. What's the point? I don't want to live if there'll come a day when there's nothing. Everything I leave behind, how much will stay. How much will keep existing on this dying world? Is there an end of the world? Is everything humans have done to improve life done nothing but to slowly destory the Earth and everything will prove in vain. Pain, fear, hatred, sins. I wonder if everything I feel is worth less than ashes. A gentle wind can stir them and a small gust can blow them away, then they're just part of the dirt we tread on. What's the meaning of life, indeed?
Speaking of my history teacher, as well as the idea of being punsihed in your next life, my history teacher also spoke of that. The Hindu belief, which I have somehow come to believe at one point in my life*, is where you will be reincarnated and depending on how heavy your sins were in your past life, that's how much you will suffer in the future. That is your punishment. She said something along those lines. I've began to wonder about how there is more unhappiness than joy (this was some other day when I was pondering this). If reincarnation is real, and what my teacher said was true, then no wonder our lives are sometimes feel like it's falling apart. This is just from a manga, but I believe it said the right words. "Our hands are stained by the blood from the animals our ancestors killed." In the next life, we were punished by what they did in the past. Then collectively, from Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, and Pride, the so called seven deadly sins, our lives have come to how it is so far. Pain, fear, hatred, sins. Maybe our lives will continue this way. Our simple lives and our simple pains have evolved. Every step forward is a step backwards. You can't stop going forward. Every jump is a fall. Every smile is a frown. Everything is useless. Everything you do is going to ruin everything.

*My version of the "Hindu belief" was that you died, go to either heaven or the underworld. If you go to heaven, you will be forgiven by the small blunders of your life--since I don't believe anyone dies pure and free of sins except for the unborn or newborns. If you go to the underworld, you will be punished and purged. Then you'll reincarnated as a new person who'll get a fresh start.

Sharing is Caring

"Until I can reach the sky, I believe, until the next tomorrow, hey. Come on, let's go everybody, oh, we share the music. We share the music. Come on, let's go baby baby, oh, we share the one dream. Come on, let's go everybody, oh, we share the good times. We share the good times. Come on, let's go baby baby, oh, we share the one world. Getting lost in the darkness and uncovering the mystery, stopping when you can't see the destination. Umm, you and me, yes, it feels good, let's share the world. Guiding me, I feel the beat, I start walking towards it, oh yeah. Share the music, anytime. share the one dream and believe in each other. Share the good times, holding hands. Share the one world now. I keep going until I can reach the sky. Let's overcome it now, I believe in the next tomorrow, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah. Come on, let's go everybody, oh, we share the music. We share the music. Come on, let's go baby baby, oh, we share the one world."
Share the world --DBSK [One Piece OP 11]

ARE NOW ARE GONE

"YOU KNOW THE CLOSER YOU GET SOMETHING, THE TOUGHER IT IS TO SEE IT. AND I'LL NEVER TAKE IT FOR GRANTED. LET'S GO."
Closer --Joe Inoue
"'CAUSE I WANT TO GO BACK TO THE VERY LAST YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL. SO MUCH PAIN, SO MUCH STRAIN, BUT STILL I HAD FRIENDS WHO MADE ME FEEL THE WAY I'LL NEVER FEEL. EVER. AGAIN.
LIFE. WAS. WORTH LIVING WITH THE PEOPLE WHO ARE NOW ARE GONE."
Haru --Joe Inoue

Good Habits are Hard to Break

Why don't people ever say good habits are hard to break? Because it's not true, I wonder? Anyhow, I'm not really going to talk about that. It's more like a parry from the topic (Am I even using "parry" right? The word just came into mind so I wanted to put it into the sentence). The title should be "Why is Being Positive Harder than Being Negative?" than "Good Habits are Hard to Break". Do they even relate? My head hurts . . . Continuing with my blog post . . .
It's so exhausting trying to be positive. So in Spanish, I go through the class painfully, trying to figure out what in the world the teacher is saying. She speaks really fast, and the words seem to blur together, so I don't even know if I learned any of the words she's saying. On rare occasions, I figure out what she says after someone answers the question, and I'm like, "Oooh, I get it now." My sister is so bored all the time that she calls home every week or something. And so yesterday, she was talking to me on the phone (when she could have just talked to me on AIM, but whatever) about school and such. Since she's taken Spanish, too, and all, she was telling me how I'll eventually learn to listen and comprehend what the teacher's saying better as time goes on. I hope the time that I begin to get Spanish again comes soon. My current problem wasn't really about all that though, except I was tense, worried that the teacher would call on me as I slowly decipher her words. She made this presentation for us to review how to conjugate stem-changing verbs, and I'm like, cool, I remember this. Then she called on people randomly to answer a series of slides until she says another name. Unfortunately, she decided to pick me. I said I remembered how to stem-change, but that didn't mean I was able to respond faster than the wind. Half the time, I kind of just stared at the screen (pantalla? I'm attempting to randomly review my vocabulary) like a nitwit. Sometimes I mumbled out an answer, but the teacher's like, "Jenny, I can't hear you." I wonder if she knew I wasn't even saying anything half the time. After epically failing to properly think quickly, the teacher finally calls on someone else who answered with master skills, which, I realized, really made me look bad. The class was pretty much over and I spent the rest of my time basically trying to convince myself not to care that I couldn't say what the conjugated verb was. My train of thought was pretty much like this:
"Who cares if people think your dumb? It's not like you intend to make friends with anyone in the class. Even if you did, as friends, would understand that you can't process things quickly and overly all slow. Wait, how does that help the situation at all? Well, it's not like I want to have a profession in Spanish or anything. Agh, but I still hate looking dumb, even though I am. Wasn't I trying to be positive here? Well, everyone has their good and bad points, Spanish is obviously something I'm bad at. Maybe people will think that I sucked at Spanish, barely made it into honors (which is true), and slowly trying to improve, but I'm not dumb. That's still negative, isn't it? Er, maybe instead of worrying about what people might think, let's not be concerned about what they think about you. Okay. It's not like they're people I'll really ever get to know. Back to the friends thing again? But, really, I'll probably never see most of them after this year, and on the plus side, I'm a very unmemorable person, they'll forget who the heck I am in no time! So even if I do end up in the same class as any of them next year, it doesn't matter, because they just think of me as a complete stranger again! Ah, yes, the benefits of being unworthy to be remembered. Dang it, I'm trying to be positive here! Happy thoughts, happy thoughts . . . AGGGGGGGGGGH!!!!!!!"
This is what happened as I migrated from class to home. I was so sick of thinking about it and trying to be more "positive" about the situation, I just fell onto my bed and slept for the next two hours.
Oh, and it's currently 11:28PM, and I'm almost done with homework. Yes! Well, I have a bunch of Spanish homework still, but I don't have anything to do in journalism (I wrote my story and briefs, so now it's the page editors to do a bunch of work). Maybe it's because I never do Spanish until the day it's due that I never get better . . .