Risk-taking

Penn, I think I'm going to get my hair cut short.
And you'll probably be the only person to know this. Ha ^^
We'll see. I've gathered the courage, now to see if action will occur.

Days of the Week

Sundae Mumsday Twosday Windsday Thirsty Fryday Saturnday

Too Much Of A Good Thing

I love letters, but...

"The [mere exposure effect] phenomenon will come as no surprise to the young Taiwanese man who wrote more than 700 letters to his girlfriend, urging her to marry him. She did marry -- the mail carrier (Steinberg, 1993)."

-an excerpt from my PYSC101 textbook (Meyers 9th ed.)

Homespeak

Today I was talking with a good friend, and happened to mention the word "home" in almost every single topic we covered.

Side effects of missing Thanksgiving for the first time in life.

Planning

sooo.....going to San Francisco for spring break :]

Home

B, I, JK, J, You guys have absorbed my homesickness that I've been spitting out recently and I'll never forget it.

Rescue

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him;
    I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. 

 He will call on me, and I will answer him;
    I will be with him in trouble,
    I will deliver him and honor him. 

 With long life I will satisfy him
    and show him my salvation.”

-Psalm 91:14-16

Conditioning

                                                                                                         It all makes sense now

Tumblr

I am so sorely tempted to begin one after reading through a random stranger's tumblr that made me love who he was as a person and brother in Christ.

Ring Finger

Why the wedding ring is worn on the fourth finger:
The Chinese give a beautiful explanation to this.

• The thumb represents your parents.
• The index finger represents your siblings.
• The middle finger represents yourself.
• The ring finger represents your life partner.
• The little finger/pinky represents your children.

Hold your hands together like the picture. Join your middle fingers back-to-back, and the remaining fingers tip-to-tip.
Now, try to separate your thumbs. They will separate because your parents are not destined to live with you forever. Rejoin your thumbs and separate your index fingers. They will separate because your siblings will have their own families and lead their own lives. Rejoin your index fingers and separate your little fingers/pinkies. They will separate because your children will grow up, get married, and settle down. Rejoin your little fingers/pinkies and try to separate your ring finger. They will not be able to separate because your life partner is meant to be with you throughout your entire life, through thick and thin.

....i just tried this and it was so easy to separate my ring fingers...

I Just Don't Know

What in the world am I doing with my life?
Do I even want to be a mechanical engineer? What would I do as one? Why am I doing what I'm doing? These questions keep pouring over me, and time isn't getting any slower. It's now or never. And God, I don't know what you want for me to do. What can I do to equip myself for your work? What work do you even want for me to do? I'm just so frustrated and scared that what I'm learning or the path that I'm heading down is something that is just so far from what I can imagine myself doing for the rest of my life. What in the world am I doing? 

I look at all these things and want to learn them ALL. Medicine, art, language, teaching, poverty and human capabilities, sustainability. And then realize quickly that strict engineering schedules don't allow for any of that. I just want to do it all, just something simple or something to change the world. It's a battle between both. And what I'm good at..which with all this flippancy and lack of dedication to one subject will soon be nothing. Lord, it would just be so much easier for you to slip me a folded sheet of paper with what you want for me to do on it. But I guess it just doesn't work that way. You're really going to make me wrestle with you aren't you? Or am I just running away from what you've already revealed to me? Or am I just throwing everything out of proportion? What if I just want to do nothing but learn for the rest of my life, about everything. Oh wait, that costs tuition. Gah, I'm trying to be intentional, and that's what's causing all of this mess, because being intentional requires so much breaking down of every motivation for every action. And it's even worse when you don't even know your own motivations.

Joy Starts With "J"

So, I've been noticing for a while now, that I get along pretty well with almost everyone I meet who has a J name. Coincidence? Future baby name? Who knows..but I do really love all my "J' friends and just people in general. Forgive me if I unintentionally leave anyone off.

• Jessie
• Jaime
• Jesse
• Jason
• Julia
• Pastor Jeff
• Jordan
• Jackie Chan
• Jeremy Lin hehe
• Jill
• Jessica Gan
• Joanne
• Jonathan (Chang, Ding, Hsieh)
• JOE KAREN
• Jillian
• Jenny Salerno
• Jane

I'm sorry. I just don't want to trick myself again. And I intend to actually go through with it this time. Praise God that He used sickness for my health.

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Rants

Sometimes I really hate politics. And yet I KNOW that it is totally necessary. In fact it's not that I hate politics. I just hate the current state of our politics. How we are so divided. I don't even know how Christ comes into the picture which hurts me more than anything. It just hurts. Who cares if I'm Republican or Democrat? And yet, it is just one of many generalizations which do align with a grouped sense of values. Someone described it to me today that, "the only way you're going to win is if you drag your opponent into the mud." That in itself is what makes me shy away from politics so much. And so much more the reason why we need to dive into the political process.

Just whoever can bring Jesus Christ glory more, if at all. The worlds going to end anyways. Reading the news wrenches my heart so much.

Describing the Gospel

Today I was given an interesting proposal. To summarize the gospel in my own words. So here goes.

What is the gospel?
"The basic fact Christ, fully human and fully God, loved us so much that he planned to take on God's wrath for our sins and the sins to come on the cross so that we may be reunited with God."

As I wrote this, it made me think, what exactly is the gospel? Trying to describe the gospel is like trying to describe love. You can say love is a feeling. You can say love is about sacrificing yourself for another. You can say love is a pain. You can say all three are true plus millions more. Think of all the love songs or songs about loving in which we try to summarize this completely abstract concept of love, yet we know it's tangible. But oftentimes we find that none of us can summarize love as a whole, because our experiences with it differ so powerfully. If God IS Love, how much more inexplicable is He and his message? Yes, God sends his feeling of his Holy Spirit into us, yes God laid the ultimate sacrifice of his son Jesus Christ, taking on our sin, YES- God is a wrathful God. YES- God is love and the gospel, the basis of our faith, the message which he sent to us in our utterly human state that traps us within ourselves frees us to love, REALLY love. And not just love. Love GOD freely. Free to love and free to obey the Holy God without the bondage of sin weighing us down for eternity. And why? Because of his gospel. And for that I have no words to describe.

A quote that struck me in Sunday School

- Ralph D. Winter

2:24 AM

It's 2:24 AM on my last day in Georgia, i'm almost done packing, listening to songs i never knew i had on my ipod, i'm waking up in three hours, and am still waiting for something that refuses to come.

Jordan

oh Jordan, in a few minutes after you take a shower in Singapore, we will have a chance to finally talk! after so long since that first semester, we can talk and chat and i can laugh at your funny jokes and you can laugh at my corny ones. I'm just really looking forward to talking to you. How these connections are forged in less than a semester I'll never know. Thank you for talking while I listened and thank you for listening while I talked.

-one hour later-

dang Internet connection broke us apart.
Observations:

1. you have so much white hair xD
2. i loved meeting (kind of) your mom over Skype and that she's already heard of me from you
3. i can't believe that you were able to talk on a school night!
4. you're right, you have matured
5. don't believe that Georgia is boring based off of one opinion! At Georgia Tech, 90% is studying so of course it would be slightly less exciting!
6. our awesome friendship connection hasn't changed one bit :]

Vanilla Twilight

The stars lean down to kiss you  

And I lie awake and miss you 

Pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere

The silence isn't so bad 

'Til I look at my hands and feel sad 

'Cause the spaces between my fingers 

Are right where yours fit perfectly

 
I'll find repose in new ways 

Though I haven't slept in two days 

 'Cause cold nostalgia   

Chills me to the bone

 

And I'll forget the world that I knew  

But I swear I won't forget you  

Oh, if my voice could reach  

Back through the past  

I'd whisper in your ear  

Oh darling, I wish you were here

Air Traffic

Wow, you wouldn't guess this, but visibly seeing and feeling an airplane's shadow pass over you makes you inhale sharply with the vastness of it. You can actually see it coming, wondering why the shade is picking up speed towards you. Then it sweeps over you, stopping you in your tracks, providing brief blissful relief from the sun then it's gone. And it happened twice today.

Funniest Scene from Emily's Quest

“I wonder if any of the readers will notice where the seam comes in,” reflected Emily amusedly. “And I wonder if Mark Greaves will ever see it and if so what he will think.”

It did not seem in the least likely she would ever know and she dismissed the matter from her mind. Consequently when, one afternoon two weeks later, Cousin Jimmy ushered a stranger into the sitting-room where Emily was arranging roses in Aunt Elizabeth’s rock-crystal goblet with its ruby base – a treasured heirloom of New Moon – Emily did not connect him with A Royal Betrothal, though she had a distinct impression that the caller was an exceedingly irate man.
Cousin Jimmy discreetly withdrew and Aunt Laura, who had come in to place a glass dish full of strawberry preserves on the table to cool, withdrew also,w ondering a little who Emily’s odd-looking caller could be. Emily herself wondered. She reamined standing by the table, a slim, gracious thing in her pale-green gown, shining like a star in the shadowy, old-fashioned room.

“Won’t you sit down?” she questioned, with all the aloof courtesy of New Moon. But the newcomer did not move. He simply stood before her staring at her. And again Emily felt that, while he had been quite furious when he came in, he was not in the least angry now.

He must have been born, of course, because he was there – but it was incredible, she thought, he would ever have been a baby. He wore audacious clothes and a monocle, screwed into one of his eyes – eyes that seemed absurdly like little black currants with black eyebrows that made right-angled triangles above them. He had a mane of black hair reaching to his shoulders, an immensely long chin and a marble-white face. In a picture Emily thought he would have looked rather handsome and romantic. But here in the New Moon sitting-room he looked merely weird.

“Lyrical creature,” he said, gazing at her.
Emily wondered if he were by any chance an escaped lunatic.
“You do not commit the crime of ugliness,” he continued fervently. “This is a wonderful moment – very wonderful. ‘Tis a pity we must spoil it by talking. Eyes of purple-grey, sprinkled with gold. Eyes that I have looked for all my life. Sweet eyes, in which I drowned myself eons ago.”
“Who are you?” said Emily crisply, now entirely convinced that he was quite mad. He laid his hand on his heart and bowed.
“Mark Greaves – Mark D. Greaves – Mark Delage Greaves.”
Mark Greaves! Emily had a confused idea that she ought to know the name. It sounded curiously familiar.
“Is it possible you do not recognize my name! Verily this is fame. Even in this remote corner of the world I should have supposed –”
“Oh!” cried Emily, light suddenly breaking in on her. “I — I remember now. You wrote A Royal Betrothal.”
“The story you so unfeelingly murdered – yes.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Emily interrupted. “Of course you would think it unpardonable. It was this way — you see –”

He stopped her by a wave of a very long, very white hand.
“No matter. No matter. It does not interest me at all now. I admit I was very angry when I came herre. I am stopping at the Derry Pond Hotel ofThe Dunes — ah, what a name – poetry – mystery – romance – and I saw the special edition of The Argus this morning. I was angry – had I not a right to be? – and yet more sad than angry. My story was barbarously mutilated. A happy ending. Horrible. My ending was sorrowful and artistic. A happy ending can never be artistic. I hastened to the den of The Argus. I dissembled my anger – I discovered who was responsible. I came here – to denounce – to upbraid. I remain to worship.”

Emily simply did not know what to say. New Moon traditions held no precedent for this.
“You do not understand me. You are puzzled – your bewilderment becomes you. Again I say a wonderful moment. To come enraged – and behold divinity. To realise as soon as I saw you that you were meant for me and me alone.”

Emily wished somebody would come in. This was getting nightmarish.
“It is absurd to talk so,” she said shortly. “We are strangers –”
“We are not strangers,” he interrupted. “We have loved in some other life, of course, and our love was a violent, gorgeous thing – a love of eternity. I recognized you as soon as I entered. As soon as you have recovered from your sweet surprise you will realise this, too. When can you marry me?”
To be asked by a man to marry him five minutes after the first moment you have laid eyes on him is an experience more stimulating than pleasant. Emily was annoyed.

“Don’t talk nonsense, please,” she said curtly. “I am not going to marry you at any time.”
“Not marry me? But you must! I have never before asked a woman to marry me. I am the famous Mark Greaves. I am rich. I have the charm and romance of my French mother and the common sense of my Scotch father. With the French side of me I feel and acknowledge your beauty and mystery. With the Scotch side of me I bow in homage to your reserve and dignity. You are ideal — adorable. Many women have loved me but I loved them not. I enter this room a free man. I go out a captive. Enchanting captivity! Adorable captor! I kneel before you in spirit.”
Emily was horribly afraid he would kneel before her in the flesh. He looked quite capable of it. And suppose Aunt Elizabeth should come in.

“Please go away,” she said desperately. “I’m — I’m very busy and I can’t stop talking to you any longer. I’m sorry about the story – if you would let me explain -”
“I have said it does not matter about the story. Though you must learn never to write happy endings – never. I will teach you. I wil teach you the beauty and artistry of sorrow and incompleteness. Ah, what a pupil you will be! What bliss to teach such a pupil! I kiss your hand.”
He made a step nearer as if to seize upon it. Emily stepped backward in alarm.
“You must be crazy,” she exclaimed.
“Do I look crazy?” demanded Mark Greaves.
“You do,” retorted Emily flatly and cruelly.
“Perhaps I do – probably I do. Crazy – intoxicated with wine of the rose. All lovers are mad. Divine madness! Oh, beautiful, unkissed lips!”

Emily drew herself up. This absurd interview must end. She was by now thoroughly angry.
“Mr. Greaves,” she said – and such was the power of the Murray look that Mr. Greaves realised she meant exactly what she said. “I shan’t listen to any more of this nonsense. Since you won’t let me explain about the matter of the story I bid you good-afternoon.”

Mr. Greaves looked gravely at her for a moment. Then he said solemnly:
“A kiss? Or a kick? Which?”
Was he speaking metaphorically? But whether or no –
“A kick,” said Emily disdainfully.
Mr. Greaves suddenly seized the crystal goblet and dashed it violently against the stove.
Emily uttered a faint shriek – partly of real horror – partly of dismay. Aunt Elizabeth’s treasured goblet.
“That was merely a defence reaction,” said Mr. Greaves, glaring at her.
 “I had to do that – or kill you. (*LOOOL BEST LINE IN THE WHOLE BOOK xD)
 Ice-maiden! Chill vestal! Cold as your northern snows! Farewell.”
He did not slam the door as he went out. He merely shut it gently and irrevocably, so that Emily might realise what she had lost. When she saw that he was really out of the garden and marching indignantly down the lane as if he were crushing something beneath his feet, she permitted herself the relief of a long breath – the first she had dared to draw since his entrance.

“I suppose,” she said, half hysterically, “that I ought to be thankful he did not throw the dish of strawberry preserves at me.”
Aunt Elizabeth came in.
“Emily, the rock-crystal goblet! Your Grandmother Murray’s goblet! And you have broken it!”
“No, really, Aunty dear, I didn’t. Mr. Greaves – Mr. Mark Delage Greaves did it. He threw it at the stove.”
“Threw it at the stove!” Aunt Elizabeth was staggered. “Why did he throw it at the stove?”
“Because I wouldn’t marry him,” said Emily.
“Marry him! Did you ever see him before?”
“Never.”
Aunt Elizabeth gathered up the fragments of the crystal goblet and went out quite speechless. There was – there must be – something wrong with a girl when a man proposed marriage to her at first meeting. And hurled heirloom goblets at inoffensive stoves.

Emily Climbs Excerpt

To my dear literary friend Penn with whom I have doubtful hope that she still reads this,
whenever I read my favorite books, I instinctively think of you and know that you appreciate the beauty of certain words, laugh at the jokes of daily life, and groan and pull your hair out at the author when he or she twists romance in exactly the way we don't want it to happen, but in the exact way we knew it would occur.

To you, I hope that this makes you laugh. because i literally LOL'd.

"My 'candle goeth not out by night' now--at least not until quite late. Aunt Ruth lets me sit up because the terminal examinations are on. Perry infuriated Mr. Travers by writing at the end of his algebra paper, Matthew 7:5. When Mr. Travers turned it up he read: 'Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.' Mr. Travers is credited with knowing much less about mathematics than he pretends to. So he was furious and threw Perry's paper out 'as a punishment for impertinence.' The truth is poor Perry made a mistake. He meant to write Matthew 5:7. 'Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy.' He went and explained to Mr. Travers but Mr. Travers wouldn't listen. Then Ilse bearded the lion in his den--that is, went to Principal Hardy, told him the tale and induced him to intercede with Mr. Travers. As a result Perry got his marks, but was warned not to juggle with Scripture texts again."

Solar Power

A collage of solar sketches that I did for Environment Georgia on a whim.

Sleeping downstairs with the family due to a busted air conditioning has taught me one thing:

Apparently I snore, complain, have conversations with people, throw tantrums, and laugh in my sleep on a regular basis.

These past few days there has been an unexplainable weariness in me. Physical, mental, spiritual exhaustion. For practically no reason at all. I went running, and had to walk half of the time. For the first time ever, I came home super early from basketball from simply not wanting or being able to continue to play. Usually I play until it's dark or until people leave. I come home and all I want to do is lie down on the couch and fall asleep to watching Avatar usually sleeping around 8PM. Yesterday, this is a stupid theory, but I think I smiled so intensely and for so long after getting my license that it drained me for the rest of the day? I'm spiritually tired for no reason at all. But one thing that has been helping though is reading my Bible on MARTA. Best way to begin the day, but still, my journaling and quality time with God has zero quality, has become more of a place to put selfish secular thoughts rather than something to represent my spiritual relationship. I feel like I'm getting enough sleep? I'm not overly or underly social. I'm not overeating nor undereating. I'm not physically inactive, nor overactive. What's wrong with me?

Guarding The Heart

"Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it." Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)

So true.

Confusion

Just came back from one of the best times at Jesse's house. We haven't lost our twin touch, or loss of things to speak with each other. We're both growing and changing in our own ways, from his developing interest in korean girl groups to my singing karaoke in front of a group of strangers for the first time. It makes me wonder, how can we be so similar, so alike, yet not believe in the same God?

The Service Patch

"The discussion also reinforced a thought I’ve had in many other contexts: that community service has become a patch for morality. Many people today have not been given vocabularies to talk about what virtue is, what character consists of, and in which way excellence lies, so they just talk about community service, figuring that if you are doing the sort of work that Bono celebrates then you must be a good person, such as how can I most productively apply my talents to the problems of the world? It’s about resource allocation.
People are less good at using the vocabulary of moral evaluation, which is less about what sort of career path you choose than what sort of person you are.

In whatever field you go into, you will face greed, frustration and failure. You may find your life challenged by depression, alcoholism, infidelity, your own stupidity and self-indulgence. So how should you structure your soul to prepare for this? Simply working at Amnesty International instead of McKinsey is not necessarily going to help you with these primal character tests.

When I read the Stanford discussion thread, I saw young people with deep moral yearnings. But they tended to convert moral questions into resource allocation questions; questions about how to be into questions about what to do.
It’s worth noting that you can devote your life to community service and be a total schmuck. You can spend your life on Wall Street and be a hero. Understanding heroism and schmuckdom requires fewer Excel spreadsheets, more Dostoyevsky and the Book of Job."

-David Brooks, The New York Times

Radical Gospel

“The modern-day gospel says, 'God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life. Therefore, follow these steps, and you can be saved.' Meanwhile, the biblical gospel says, 'You are an enemy of God, dead in your sin, & in your present state of rebellion, you are not even able to see that you need life, much less to cause yourself to come to life. Therefore, you are radically dependent on God to do something in your life that you could never do.” 

― David Platt, Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream

Motivation

Sometimes it just seems that I get these sporadic bursts of energy and motivation that last until I make that first excuse for myself. As soon as that excuse appears in my mind, it preys upon me and gives me all kinds of leeway that causes me to easily give up on whatever it is I'm doing. It's in everything, from sports, to friendships, to classes. Am I so easy, so little of heart to just be someone who gives up and leaves it to a pathetic excuse like that?

Crazy Dreams

just had the WEIRDEST DREAM. i was at this fake school that i've dreamed myself into before, very Rice-ish, and i was working for Dumbledore, whose team for some reason also included in its masses Legolas and Gimli, but one day when Voldemort extended me an offer, for some reason i took it and began working undercover for Voldemort. and Hawkeye from Avengers was on his team too. but during one of our meetings the press barged in and began taking pictures and i covered my face and RAN. we were in a made-up mall i've dreamed about too, and i just ran throughout the mall, and finally made it out of the mall. they called in a team of chinese investigators, so that if i used my Chinese, they could immediately tell how good it was or what region my parents were from, so i refrained from using Chinese at all. And then slowed to a walk while walking through them to act like an ordinary shopper exiting the mall. Ran into two friends from Rice too, Belicia Ding and Kurt Ko. 

When i got back to my dorm, there were huge lines waiting to get inside the dorm because for some reason everyone was taking the backside like i normally do. When i went up, the others went ahead, but i made Hudson wait behind and we went into my room. And told him that I was the one the press were searching for. and people kept pasting these stars and notes on my door, sympathetic, some hurtful, and they came more and more as they began finding out that i was the betrayer, the one working for Voldemort. 
crazy right?

another crazy dream I had on the plane ride back to Haiti was there was this festival at Rice. And Wendy was performing in some sort of karate hip-hop show/demonstration. And as the crowd began gathering more, I was with Zephan and for some reason, on top of the karate pyramid was Andrew Hsu, who was wearing like a samurai kimono type thing with a skirt thing instead of pants. So then Zephan yelled, 

"Those are the most hairless legs I've ever seen!" 

And everyone could NOT stop laughing. I was scandalized, but laughing because no one could stop. The end. 

"...he learned much else without being taught, such as looking out for himself and watching his tongue and not saying the wrong thing, the thing that might get him killed. About the dignity of the lost, about losing, and how it cleansed the soul to accept defeat, and about letting go, avoiding the trap of holding on too tightly to what you wanted, and about abandonment in general, and in particular fatherlessness, the lessness of fathers, the lessness of the fatherless, and the best defenses of those who are less against those who are more: inwardness, forethought, cunning, humility, and good peripheral vision. The many lessons of lessness. The lessening from which growing could begin."

                                                                       -Salmaan Rushdee (The Enchantress of Florence)

Home

"All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. 14People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. 15If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. 16Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them."

[Hebrews 11:13-16]

just made me think about how much I extol Georgia. I talk about it and boast about it, and sometimes in a way idolize it as the place where I grew up, my home, my love. But it might not be as good to cling to it completely, because I know of a MUCH better place that I can boast about even more so. God, you are good by giving me my great home in Atlanta, but I am going to come home to you even more so. Just knowing my feelings of returning home this summer, how much more can they be magnified when I return to your arms as your daughter?

Words Out of My Mouth

How empty is it when you go
to the places you once knew
without the people you used to know
And you know they won't be there
yet all the memories still are
all the feelings
the sights and sounds
laughter
your face
who I used to be.
who we used to be.


Reblogged from Penn's blog. Just thought this was scarily accurate

Stretched

Sometimes I feel so caught between me, myself, and I, especially the past and future versions of myself.

There are times when I feel like a baby, a wee toddler, wanting to climb back into the warm arms of home and my parents, content with my childhood friends and just knowing that we'll be together always. I've been feeling this more this past week than I have this semester so far.

And I don't know what causes it. Maybe because we all are going in so many directions and I can't do anything to stop it. Christine's going to England, Sandra's in California, Penn wants to go to Thailand, Hudson to China, who knows where Ivan and Jesse will end up, Monique is in New Zealand, and we're growing up. Even my friends at Rice now have such a limited time in my life that it seems so fleeting sometimes. Belicia, Julia, and Olivia will all probably go back to California, Mimi back to Taiwan, Cindy to New York, and already the seniors leaving this year have their own places to go. Everyone has their own place to go. And I'm still that child willing to leave home, but not to move home.

Then I see my future self, traveling around the world, maybe even living in Spain, working in Taiwan, even living in Houston. There are too little lifetimes to do what I want to do. And too little time to do even one lifetime as well as I want to. Trusting in God is right, and I beat myself for my anxious heart, but sometimes I do feel anxious. It's actually the opposite of Alex's word time, I'm no impatient, but rather the other extreme, wanting to draw out a few years into long stretched out eons. I get lonely in the midst of friends, because I'm too busy thinking about how they're eventually going to leave me. That is one thing, I tend to cling to people. When I have someone who I really love within my grasp, I selfishly do not want to let them go, and thus am the last one standing, because I'd stand for eternity if they wanted to as well, whether it was good or bad for either of us.

I am not worried or anxious about love, but rather can't imagine myself at all in it for a long time. I'm yet a kid pretending to be a girl who is trying to be a woman. And then what? What if it takes me forty years to break down the very walls of memories and guarding that I've realized I've begun to construct?

The fact that I am thinking and actually blogging (yeah..i know) is also probably a result of my first phone interview about an hour ago. It was good, and hopefully I have a good chance, but boy, my heart was racing and my words flying at a nervous rate they haven't traveled at in ages. Feels like I ran a race and then just stopped to a standstill, my body sedentary and my pulse zooming ahead towards the finish line. And thinking of internships made me think of the future, and then thinking of being back at home in Georgia, and then feeling torn between the past and present all over again.

I've always felt this way growing up, and am just realizing that now. In the house, the older sister was my primary role, but there were ample times when I felt younger than Ting. In school, I was always younger, but sometimes felt years older in what I pondered while at the same time operating a much younger level of social awkwardness. Doing college apps, you'd think that you'd ruminate the most on what they would receive from you, what you will contribute: future tense. And yet, it was a period when I dwelled in my soaked album of memories over and over again.

Past and present. Future and past. Present and Future. Always a mix of them, and never just the present.
Gah..being torn in so many time vectors (think right hand rule) makes my being feel so stretched.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I miss you. All of you. Even those of you who are here with me currently. Because I don't want to let you go.

Cycles

Every time I think I'm good with it. I'm done. It's completely gone. I get slapped upside the head all over again.