Guess what everyone? I’m writing a research paper on blogs. haha. I believe I’m going to write about their impact on politics. We’ll see.

I’m at Stanford right now in California for a summer camp. And if I might say so myself, I’ve done quite a lot of new things this past summer, and I’m extremely satisfied as this summer is coming to a close. I’m ready for a new season. I’ve ridden a ferris wheel for the first time, watched fireworks when it wasn’t the fourth of july, learned how to ballroom dance and performed in front of an audience, went fountain hopping at stanford, made smoothies, played endless games of ultimate frisbee (and won!), made chalk houses come alive with little children of enormous imagination, pulled m first all-nighter, and the list goes on… I’m so happy.

what the heck? it’s august? already?

Blogging

okayokay. the truth of the matter is this.
I’m keeping two blogs at the same time. And on top of those two blogs, I also keep a journal.
Why? I’m not exactly sure. But it’s definitely the reason why none of them are getting quite enough attention.
But I do admit, each blog/journal holds its own little purpose. Each one has a different audience.
This wordpress has a stranger audience, so I use it to blog about more general thoughts and feelings. My xanga has a community of close friends, so I use it less formally and blog about more intimate things. I write poems. Or I ramble. And then I have my journal. An audience of myself and God. It’s where everything big and small goes, whether it’s personal or gossip, worries or excitement… I think it’s this journal that documents the real me. What I really feel. Because there, in those pages, there’s nobody to judge.

So this whole keeping-two-blogs-and-one-journal thing. It doesn’t really help me very much. But then again, I also don’t get too attached to any of them, so it’s easier to stop. Or should I say neglect? But those journals have really held a place in my heart longer than any blog has, since I’ve been journaling since fourth grade. And I can’t quite go for a full month of no-journaling without feeling empty.

But the point is that sadly, I’ve started to lose the intimacy with this blog.
And I suppose I’ll just get this thing going again whenever I feel the need to, yeah?

PS so for the past two days, I’ve been sitting outside painting scenery for four hours straight. And I’d just like to say that it’s a very relaxing thing to do, especially when the breeze feels like mingling for a bit and the mosquitoes aren’t nagging for some food. It’s just nice to get lost in all the shades of greens, with nothing on your mind except for how to mix the perfect color. And even though I’m not exactly exceptional at art in general, I liked painting those trees quite a lot. I could see them dancing. Can you?

I can taste summer.

Well well well, it’s been quite a while hasn’t it?
School’s finally over. Summer’s finally here. I can sleep again. I can breathe again. Oh hello, three marvelous months of freedom. Goodbye chemistry (oh FINALLY), goodbye world history, goodbye art. But the horrible thing is that it’s really not over. Because here’s my summer: SATs, SATs, SATs, summer work, five books, three essays, studying… it just never ends. There’s no such thing as a break, is there?

But despite the insane workload that I have in store for me this summer, here’s my to-do list for the in-betweens and here-and-theres.

1. Blog more.
2. Go to a live concert.
3. Learn how to cook a meal. Or anything. Lemonade, even.
4. Write letters to the people I love.
5. Get to know someone reealllyyy well.
6. Get back to reading the Bible daily.
7. Have a yard sale for my old clothes, and use the money for a completely new wardrobe.
8. Try some new ice cream flavors.
9. Piano.

Hooray! Well, this sophomore year has been full of drama, like always. Tears and doubts, laughs and smiles. I realized what it meant to work and stress. It was the first time I was actually on the verge of insanity, the first time I’ve actually hated someone for more than a day, the first time I got serious about a boy. First times, second times… hey, I’m growing up. Definitely older than I was a year ago. It’s always interesting to reflect and to think back, then to wonder about what’s in store for you next week, next summer, next year… I’m going to be an upperclassman next year. Ridiculous.

So at one of the training sessions for a mission trip I’m going on over the summer, my youth director told us to go around and share a weakness that we had. And mine? Hypocrisy. And after I declared that, I just became so much aware of every time I was being hypocritical. Just a week ago I was criticizing one of my friends for the way he acted… when I wasn’t much better off. But it just never occurs to me to look at myself a bit critically too; I always think, “oh, I know I should change, blahblahblah,” but I never actually do change. I just look at everyone else and tell them to change. I’m surprised nobody’s said anything about how hypocritical I am. Probably because I always try to cover it up. Oh, dear me. Well, at least I’m aware now.

Other thought. Do I really not care about him anymore, or is it that I care so much that I try to pretend that I don’t? And what’s the word for a mixture of all the emotions- happiness, frustration, anger, carefree- all stuffed into one overcrowded, confused head?

Hello, Goodbye.

oh dear oh dear. It’s not that I don’t have anything to blog about. It’s not even that I don’t have time or that I’m busy. I’m just getting lazier. I find myself talking to myself/GOD more than blogging, which is really just fine in my opinion, or I’d rather take out the good old pen and journal and jot down incomprehensible blurbs rather than trying to string everything together on the laptop. Seriously, laziness is such a drug.

Anyway, here’s something I thought about like, a week ago. I categorize my friends. Which is the strangest thing to say, I know, but it’s absolutely true. There’s the friends that you go shopping with, the ones that you ask for help with homework, the ones that you go to concerts with, or the church friends, or the party friends, the friends that you tell all your gossip to, or spill all your problems to, or the backup friends (that sounds horrible.).. but then I realized that I don’t have a category for the friends that I can just talk to. I’m not talking about I-need-help-because-I-have-problems kind of talking, but the friends that I can seriously just call up at night and have absolutely nothing to talk about. And usually, those kinds of people fall into the category of “boyfriend.” But why? Why does it have to be that romantic other that you can just call up everyday for the sake of calling? I’ve realized that nowadays, everytime someone calls me, the first thing I ask is “Why did you call?”, completely disregarding the possibility that hey, maybe she just called to talk.

But nobody seems to do that nowadays. There always has to be a reason. Everything has to move forward. Nobody has time to just, talk. Well, I’m sure we all do actually, we’re just too lazy to attempt to keep a conversation going. Too much effort. Sooo, I’ve decided to put a challenge for myself. I’m going to have a fullout conversation with a different person every few days. And it’ll be a person that I really haven’t talked to in a while. Or maybe I’ll just take the time to ask some people “How are you?” instead of “Why’d you call?” I wonder if people even remember how to say “how are you” and how to answer with something other than “Not much” or “good.” See, that’s why online conversations always end. And once again, nobody wants to take the effort to continue conversations.

Well anyway, it’d do alot of good for me. It’s worth a try. 8DD

What if I had danced in the hail?

I’m the kind of girl who questions every single choice that I make, who hesitates before being spontaneous, who could run and run and fool everyone by making it seem as if I’m running to somewhere, when in reality, I have absolutely no idea where I’m going. And one huge thing that always takes over my thoughts is “what if?” What if I had done something differently, if I had said something more, if I had gone out of my way to talk to that lonely girl over there. I replay conversations in my head, wondering if I had said the right thing, if I could’ve said something differently. I imagine different scenarios. And every single time, it occurs to me that I can’t change anything. That I’ve already done what I did- so what’s the use of going through it again? Perhaps it comforts me. Maybe I’m convinced that at some point, I’ll get sick of myself and stop and go back and do whatever I was too afraid to do before. But of course it never happens- I just keep on what-if-ing every single thing that I do. Doesn’t get me very far, I know.

Last friday night, I went to a Chris Tomlin concert. It was supposed to be at seven, but it got postponed to nine because of… a tornado warning. Oh yes. So right when my group got there, it started POURING like it never had before; I’ve never even seen this kind of weather before. And to make it even more intense, the concert was outdoors. Of course, there was a roof on top of us, but here we were on the very side of the amphitheater, with the wind blowing in our direction and bringing with it rain and hail. We had to struggle just to get out the umbrella- the umbrella that was supposed to shelter eight of us. Of course that failed. So here I was, drenched with not an inch of me dry. That’s when my friend just pulled me out from under the umbrella and maniacally laughed, twirling around and yelling about how amazing it was. I was shocked speechless for a few seconds, before I started to join in with her laughter. She was right. This outrageous weather was amazing. And now I don’t have to sit and wonder, what if I had braved the weather today and let myself go crazy? Because hey, guess what- I did. There’s noone to judge me but God.

The concert started in a different way. There was a huge screen at the front, and the entire place was completely black except for three white words on that screen: Quiet your hearts. The entire audience was still, with some fidgeting and whispers every here and there, but we were still. It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t raining. It was just… silence. And it’s very rare that you can sit in that kind of silence, with no distraction of noise, of loudness. It was Good Friday. The friday that all hell broke loose (and partied too soon might I add). The friday that Jesus became sin for us so that we could be righteousness (2 Corinthians 5:21), that the only alive man on earth became dead just for us. Unimaginable… but it still happened. Ohgosh, that was an awesome night.

Who Am I?

When I’m home alone, I completely strip away my poised, dignified facade. I blast my music the loudest it can go, belt out the lyrics, dance around my house with no care of the world. I slam on the piano, make up tunes, string words into nonsensical phrases. I try out outrageous clothes and strut down the stairs, I take out the ice cream and make humongous sundaes, I go crazy… and it feels great.

But then I wonder, is THIS who I am? Or is the way I act when I’m around people who I am? Do my friends shape my personality? Is that fear of being judged the one that judges the way I act? Is that fake? Am I fake? What if I act different around different people- who then AM i? I don’t really know- I’ve always struggled with my identity ever since sixth grade, since I’m the type of person to change who I am according to the group I’m with, just so that I could be accepted. But it’s been getting better, since I’ve started to stick up for what I believe in, rather than stupidly laughing at everything that everyone says. But still…

It seems strange to think that the way you act when you’re alone is who you are, because then that’d imply that the person that everyone knows you as is WRONG. So then, who IS that person when you’re alone? Maybe it’s just you on an extreme level, since all your barriers for acting crazy are gone, you know? Well, I don’t know. It’s just interesting. It’s also interesting how other people think of me differently than how I think of myself. For instance, a lot of people think of me as a bouncy, happy girl. Which for the most part, I am. The last thing they’d think label me as though, is deep. And I don’t think of myself as deep either, but at the same time, I’m not a brainless girl who doesn’t question the things around me, you know? And when people get to know me and realize that there’s more underneath that happy, bouncy cover, they’re surprised. Why though?

Anyway, today was a very, very, very beautiful day. It’s really too bad that I woke up at eleven and wasted away the whole morning. I hate that feeling of unproductivity. Then I had a piano recital from two until six, and such a beautiful day feels even more wasted. Especially since I played horribly. When I’m at a recital, I get unusually antsy, and by the time I get up there to perform, I’m pretty much wasted and I can’t focus on playing a piano anymore. It’s bad. But on a better note- yesterday, our youth group reached a miraculous number of 105 youths. THERE’S something to praise about.

Dancing in a Burning Room

Ohmygosh. Seriously one of the best dances I’ve ever seen. I nearly started crying from the emotion that the dancers portrayed. And when it was over, I sat there for a second, trying to take it in, then I watched it another two times. It’s a very lyrical, sensual dance, but it’s beautiful.

Wade Robson (amazing, by the way) as choreographer, Ben Susak and Pam Chu as dancers. Kate and Joshua performed a shorter version of this on So You Think You Can Dance, but I think this version has a MUCH greater effect. There’s just something about it, how we can connect to such honest motions. The girl’s expression of being exposed, the man’s expression of need, meshed together into one brutal image of love. How much it can hurt, how hard you have to work for it, how much trust there needs to be to hold two complex people together… how it can hold in the end. Whether it’s because we’re too tired of fighting or because love really did survive, I don’t know. But wow, this dance was touching to the core.

The song’s called Dancing in a Burning Room by John Mayer. It fits perfectly; love- such a fiery emotion, yet we somehow willingly dance our way through.

Moody.

No no, I’m fine. March has been one of my more moodier months. And it’s ending.
It’ll be April tomorrow… wow. Time flies.

Time is such a hard thing to grasp. It’s so abstract, passing until it’s gone, gone until we’re old. Memories are made and we’re caught in the moment, then the next day it’s gone and we’re living a new memory, until all these bits and pieces disappear into the past, and the present seems even more unreal than those blurry days from forever ago. It’s difficult to understand. How we’re really just stuck in this life that just keeps moving forward, and forward, and even if you can’t keep up it won’t wait. And you just push along, not really getting what’s happening until it’s over. And when it’s over and you look back, you’re thinking, what the heck just happened? And you can’t really answer, except in one single word that’s supposed to summarize that entire experience. “Fun. Long. Dull. Hard. Easy. Unexplainable..” Time doesn’t make sense.

But once again, I’m rambling. I really haven’t rambled in a long time… this is what happens when I’ve gone so long without blogging. (It’s only been two weeks?) The busy life of school is finally starting to catch up with me. Or perhaps I’m just becoming lazier. But it’s not only school; it’s my life. There’s just been so many feelings that seem a bit too personal to be exclaiming over the internet, so I’ve been venting those emotions in a separate journal. I just can’t go without writing. Releasing.

But anyway, I don’t have much to say after such a long break, because all these emotions have been confusing and I can’t exactly list them out like a checklist titled ”All the feelings you’ll feel in life.” (I seriously feel as if I’ve been through them all in this one short month, but of course that’s impossible.) So I’m not even going to try to bother blogging about them, since my mind can’t even process it all without being thoroughly confused. A mood ring would probably explode. But let me tell you- it’s been one heck of a rollercoaster ride. It really just makes me want to sleep.

But I’ve been thinking about something else regarding love- is it possible to cheat on someone even when you truly love that person? I know the common answer is no, but I’ve been seriously contemplating this question. I’m not talking about cheating in a relationship before marriage (that’s a deal breaker), but about marriage (which isn’t honestly something I can talk about, because I don’t have the slightest clue what it’s about). Isn’t it possible for love to get dull after a while, and for temptation to creep in on a man (or woman) until he gives in? Of course he’d come back crying for forgiveness if he truly loves her, but he still cheated, right?

I don’t know if it matters at all.
I really just don’t know anymore.

i’m losing it.

Ready, set, … …?

Well. I’m laughing right now. My ears and fingers are frozen, my breathing is hard, my face is red, and I’m so utterly soaked. But I’m laughing.

Today was the John’s Creek 5k race- a fundraiser. It’s supposed to be the time of your life, with music and balloons and free food everywhere you go. And if you win the race, you get- more free food. And I was looking forward to this 5k since the beginning of this week, asking every friend of mine if he/she was going. Only two said yes. Everyone else replied with a “Dude. It’ll be cold and rainy- do you really think it’s worth it? You’ll probably get sick.” But I said, who cares? It feels better to run in colder weather anyway.

Well, here’s the deal- I missed out. I woke up at 7:40; the race started at 8. And when I realized the time, I shot out of bed and blindly ran around the little space in my crowded room, pulling out drawers and digging out the exercise clothes that had been buried in the deepest depths of my drawers; I hadn’t run since summer. At that moment I got a text- “Where are you? It’s about to start in a minute!” And then I sat down and thought, wow. I’m going to be late. And upon realizing that, I slowed down. It should have motivated me to hurry up, but I didn’t.

I knocked on my mother’s door and asked her if I should still go; she shot out of bed faster than I did. As I was just starting to pour the Frosted Flakes in my cereal bowl, she was already opening the drawers to find her keys. Except they weren’t there. So we spent 5 minutes searching for her keys; she found some, tried them, and realized they weren’t the right keys; we spent another 5 minutes searching for them again. Once we finally started to get going, it was 8:10. But there’s more. Once we finally arrived in the general area of the place, we drove around for another 20 minutes trying to find Lifetime- the gym where the starting line was.

We couldn’t find the place until a policeman was nice enough to smirk at us and point us in the right direction, while trying (and failing) to hold back his laughter. When we got there, people were already finishing the race. And so I went home, disappointed and at loss for words. I had missed the race. I had missed the race.

The whole time, my mom was in hysterics, laughing all the way home. “That was a good experience. Ohhhoho, that was a good experience.” And I was shaking my head, thinking to myself, I didn’t get to experience anything. So I went home and took a lap around my neighborhood, angry that I hadn’t run just thirty minutes earlier. And I ran in the cold, windy weather with the rain pouring down, until I finally started laughing with the adrenaline that was pumping through my veins. Nothing mattered.

And now here I am. So I didn’t get to experience that amazing feeling of finishing a 5k- that motivation of pushing on, pushing on, pushing past the maximum that you can push. I probably wouldn’t have been able to without fainting anyway, since I honestly haven’t had a good run since summer. But who cares? It was a good experience. Of what? Well, I don’t know. Of getting up on my time. Of motivating myself a bit more. Of going to Lifetime- now that I know where it is- to get on a treadmill every now and then. Of running in the rain and experiencing a bit more of what’s bigger than me. Of disappointment. Of life. I mean, if I hadn’t missed the race, then I wouldn’t be so motivated right now to go to the next 5k that happens. At least I had signed up and gotten out of bed- that’s the first step, right? Well, it’s a huge step for me at least, because I’m not the type of person to go to these huge fundraiser things anyway. So it’s a start.

Well, this morning was a refresher to this past week, anyway, since I’ve been having mood swings faster than a mood ring could read. Happy, sad, happy, sad, angry… it’s frustrating. And all these emotions have simply made me lazy, unwilling to get up every morning and live another day, and even more unwilling to pick up a Bible and read where I had left off a few weeks ago. It’s a horrible feeling. But maybe after today, I’ll be back to my old regular self. Maybe I’ll be able to finally get moving again, after these past two weeks of a standstill. Sometimes you just need a break before you can leap forward again, you know?