Winter Break.

Something about tonight has left me inexplicably teary-eyed. I can't quite place my finger on what it is I'm feeling right now - sadness? disappointment? confusion? - but whatever the emotion, it has left me with a bruised heart, the kind of ache that pulses dully below the surface, harmless if untouched, but reaching deep into the past. It's just strange to come back home for winter break and discover that the people you held dearest to you, the people you believed would be your closest confidants long after high school, have changed - maybe not obviously, but in little ways that mattered to you. I love my friends, I admire them, I look up to them, they make me who I am...so I guess it's upsetting to see them with changed attitudes that conflict with my own morals. Will we walk away from each other? Who will be better off? What if this is just the beginning, what if we're still young, what if years from now I won't even remember the names of the people who, right now, I am so scared of losing?

Driving.

The wind slashes at her car as she drives through the night, barely making yellow lights, flying towards nowhere. There is no one in the passenger seat; her only company is the voice on the radio. She steps on the gas and speeds away under the delusional idea that the faster she goes, the quicker she can catch up to the girl she used to be.

Of Mice And Men.

I think I've been living my life wrong. See, I have this crazy imagination -- I let my dreams run wild, get caught up in the beauty of how infinite the possibilities of my future are, then crash into a wall the second the tiniest flicker of doubt enters my mind. Not the doubt that I may not succeed -- the doubt that I may be wasting my time going after something I don't want. It's not that I'm fickle -- just curious. Open minded. Eager to live my life, but confused about how I'm supposed to be living it. I know what advice any sensible person would give me: enjoy your life and stop worrying so much. You're still young, you have plenty of time to figure out what you want and who you are. But what if I make a mistake? What if I go down a one way road that leads to a life that I could never be proud of? I know I'm being dramatic. I know that the future can only be planned up to a certain extent, and that even "the best laid plans...often go astray." But we only have one chance to live, and I guess I'm scared that I won't get it right. I can only hope that my tendency to dream too much will one day land me where I'm meant to be.

Hope.

Tell me, what is hope? One of my favorite quotes has always been Emily Dickinson's "Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul." In my eyes, hope was that shining beacon, that glimmering North Star that would sparkle unwaveringly as the lost traveler's guide. But yesterday, someone said something that shattered this beautiful image: "Hope is for people who don't know what they're doing." And as much as I didn't want to believe it, he was right. People only resort to hope when they feel like they are not in control of their own futures anymore. But how can the one thing that keeps people from giving up also be the proof that one has given up?

Graduation.

I've been meaning to write the inevitable end-of-the-year graduation post for a long time, but I kept putting it off. I guess a silly part of me thought that if I never wrote it, we'd never really graduate.

This past Sunday, I attended Maggie, Sherry, and Melissa's senior recital at the Unitarian Society - my old preschool. As I walked up the steps, my mind flashed back to the picture of Tim and me as little kids, holding hands while prancing down these very steps. Staring out at the playground, the vague, blurry scene slowly came into focus as my eyes traced the contours of the wooden play sets, restoring the memories that the past twelve years had pushed to the back of my mind. As I reached the door, I smiled to myself when I remembered how I bawled my eyes out and refused to walk through that same door on my first day of preschool.

Yesterday, I went on an interesting little adventure - after Tamarack with Greg and Victor, lunch at Stewart's, playing ping-pong at a stranger's house, chilling in Amalan's sister's room, and getting water balloon-ed in Jesse's backyard...we somehow ended up having a little picnic (if that's what you call four people eating sushi in a playground) at Lawrence Brook School. The slides which were once blue were now an ugly shade of green, the huge ten-tire swing was no longer in existence, the awesome zip-lines were no where to be seen, the metal poles were replaced by bright red poles, and a stupid tree stood in the place where I used to jump off swings. But the mulch on the ground still smelled the same, the bull dog face was still there, and the kids on the playground were playing tag just as happily as I once did.

Today, I woke up and decided that I was going to be productive. I went to the high school and returned the track uniform that had been sitting in my closet for months and picked up the scholarship that I got at the sports banquet. When I came home, I cleaned my room and registered for the classes I'd be taking next fall. I then wrote a thank you letter to the donor of the scholarship and mailed it off, along with an AP assessment form for Carnegie Mellon. And then I decided that I was finally going to log onto blogspot and write the post I've been meaning to write for so long.

In the last three days, I managed to set foot on my preschool, my elementary school, and my high school. I did a lot in these three days, but they seemed to go by really fast. In the blink of an eye, we'll be getting our diplomas. And just like I once cried because I didn't want to start preschool, I will be crying again on graduation - but this time it'll be happy tears.

Spontaneity.

For someone who seems to like planning things out so much, I'm awfully attracted to the element of surprise. For some reason, I can't stand re-reading books or re-watching movies, even if I really enjoy them the first time around. However exciting, suspenseful, or action-packed the plot is, always knowing what's going to happen next decimates my interest. It's not that I think my life is boring or that I don't like having some consistency, but half of the time (such as now), I feel like I'm just sitting around waiting for something exciting to happen. The problem is, this wait is getting kind of long and I'm beginning to lose my patience.

Shh.

I think it's ironic that the sharing of secrets can bring people together but the revealing of secrets will tear them apart. I used to think that it was stupid whenever we played truth or dare at sleepovers because no one ever did the dares that were actually good, and as for truths, I never really had any secrets. It seems things have changed in the past few years.

Dependence.

I'm not a misanthrope or the type who prefers solitude to company; I like being with people. In fact, I thrive off social contact. Without my friends, I am not only nobody but I am nothing. So it might sound a little strange when I say that I hate depending on others. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for cooperation; I work well in groups and I get along with pretty much everyone. I like being the person other people can rely on, but I absolutely despise being on the opposite end of this dependence thing. It's not that my trust in others has ever been abused or that I find myself being disappointed very often. I hold all my friends in a very high regard and I know that I can count on them in almost every situation. But I don't know...there's just this feeling I have. A craving for independence, if you will. I guess it's just that some people will come and go in your life. At some point you'll lose a friend; heck, I've already drifted from so many once-close friends over the past few years. Maybe I'm just afraid to invest too much of myself into others because when they leave - or when I leave - I don't know how much of myself will never be returned. It's safer not to depend on others. But then again...maybe it's worth the risk. Maybe that's what friendships are all about. I should have more faith in people...I'm just being stubborn.

My First Language.

I know a few languages. I speak English fluently, Mandarin occasionally, and Spanish when my Spanish teacher requires me to. Three languages seems impressive enough, until compared to the number of languages that are recognized in the world...over six thousand. Under normal circumstances, this figure would cause me considerable alarm, but fortunately, there is one language I know that I left out before, and it happens to be the single language that is universal: laughter.

More than the sound of breathing tides, more than the sound of clicking horse hooves, more than the sound of a golf ball at impact, I love the sound of laughter. Sometimes it's the obnoxious guffaw that follows an inappropriate joke made at a lunch table of immature teenagers. Sometimes it's the delighted chortle of a five year old girl who has just discovered a new hobby of wrapping your hair around her fingers. Sometimes it's the soft chuckle of an ardent lover as his lips brush past your ear. Sometimes it's the chorus of harmonizing pitches as a family joke is told around the Thanksgiving turkey.

No matter who, what, when, where, why, or how, laughter doesn't need letters, nor characters, nor accents; it can't be written, but can be spoken by all. Laughter is the one language that everyone can understand, but the best part about it is that it's easy to learn.

Rearview Mirrors.

Whenever I come to a stop at a red light, I glance up at my rearview mirror. One time, I saw a girl wearing a Santa hat with her left arm slung carelessly out the window. Another time, I saw a mother with a stern face, looking straight ahead, silent, while her daughter sat in the passenger seat texting away. Sometimes I'll see a young couple: the boy will lean over and give her a quick kiss on the cheek and the two will smile. Once, I saw a wife talking on and on, for the entirety of the red light, her thick eyebrows moving erratically with each word, as her husband sat to her right with his chin resting against a propped up arm, bored out of his mind. Occasionally, there will be a dog, its proud head sticking haughtily out the window, tongue hanging out from the side of its mouth. It's really interesting, these little windows into people's lives. It kind of makes me wonder what the driver in front of me sees when he looks in his rearview mirror. A lonely girl singing to herself in the car? A tired athlete in her varsity jacket, her hair a total mess? Or maybe I'm just a face obscured by a pair of sunglasses, a total stranger who is nobody to the rest of the world.

We're Going To Be Okay.

Once again, I am writing when I should probably be studying physics. My recent introduction to tumblr has awakened the creative mind that went into hiding during these past few busy weeks, so I've been writing a poem a day and not really doing much else. As fun as tumblr is, though, I think I'll save the thoughts that really matter to me for this blog.

Reading Jon and Amy's posts about regret made me sad. At first I thought I was sad because I too had regrets, but then I realized that I was really just sad because the fact that we are all now reflecting on our pasts is a sign that our lives as high school students is actually nearing its end. I guess a part of me thought I'd sleep in this same room for the rest of my life, wake up at the same time every morning to go to school, hang out with the same people on weekends, wear the Uggs that I've worn all winter for every winter there ever is.

I always thought the past was concrete and the future was unpredictable, but now I realize that the past is just as big of a mystery as the future. We'll never know what opportunities we should have taken, what decisions we made poorly, or who we would be now had we done some things differently. We could torture ourselves with a symphony of what-ifs, but the orchestra would be out of tune and the band would play too loudly. I'm not saying that I'm 100% happy with who I am right now, nor do I think the turns my life has taken are anything less than strange. Here I am, sitting at my desk on a Sunday morning, ignoring the cough drop wrappers to my left which I should probably throw out, as well as the finished cup of tea to my right that I should bring downstairs, looking ridiculous in an entire outfit of green because my track sweats are just so comfortable, typing away on my blogspot while my AP physics midterm review sits unfinished in front of me. I don't appear to be a very impressive person from the scene I've just described. I can't play the harp (though I'd like to learn how), I haven't published a book (though I hope to achieve this sometime before the end of my life), I can't juggle (despite how randomly awesome I think this talent would be, and despite how many times my brother has tried to teach me), nor can I breakdance or do karate (I always thought these would be particularly impressive for a girl), I only know three languages (and I'm not even that good at Mandarin or Spanish), I'm not naturally intelligent (my brother got those genes), I'm not famous (who can pronounce my last name right anyway?), and the only things I really know for sure are that I love my pet dog very much and that I'm leaving my house in approximately two hours to go to the library. My point is, having regrets won't change the past and worrying too much about the future won't ensure that you become who you want to be, because chances are you're not even sure about who that is right now. Just be happy with who you are, understand yourself, and trust yourself -- I really think we're all going to be okay.

Snow.

This morning after I finished breakfast I peeked out the window and, noticing that the weather seemed pretty decent and not too dangerous to drive in, went to my mom's room to tell her I was leaving for school. "Is it snowing?" she asked. "Nahhh." But then my mom looked out the window and suddenly out of no where there was this crazy snowstorm going on outside and the snow was already starting to stick. I told her it was fine, that it was mostly rain and not snow anyways, but she insisted on driving me to school.

I guess I was feeling a bit annoyed that she wouldn't let me drive (because we teenagers think we're so cool, obviously) but in any case, we left the house at around seven and were driving through the flurries when I realized she was actually right in not letting me drive. After we turned left from Gage Road onto Sullivan Way, the car continued sliding to the left and wouldn't stop. My mom responded by steering to the right, but then the car turned to the right and wouldn't stop turning either! This lasted all of about ten seconds probably, and there were no other cars nearby, but it was actually the first time I had been in a car so out of control before. Anyways, my mom spent the rest of the car ride to the high school ranting about how dangerous it was to drive in the snow. She was talking so much that I was actually worried that she wasn't paying attention to the road and that we'd get in an accident or something. When we arrived at the high school and I was getting out of the car, I realized she would be driving home by herself in the snow while clearly in a flustered mood, and suddenly got really concerned and told her to be careful driving home. I guess I know how she feels now, whenever I want to drive and she won't let me. Next time I won't get annoyed anymore. Next time I'll appreciate the fact that she cares.

TV.

Sometimes I feel like I'm watching my own life as it plays across a television screen. The problem is, someone else has the remote.

Shooting Star.

I remember the first time I learned what a shooting star really was. I guess I always thought it was really a star falling across the sky, something beautiful, something that glowed with the reassuring power to grant my wishes. The way I feel right now is the way I felt the day I realized a shooting star is really just a meteoroid burning through the atmosphere, an ugly boulder falling to its demise.

I tend to be too trusting, inevitably setting myself up for disappointment. I've always had incredible faith in humanity, but little by little this faith has begun to erode. In the past few years, my perception of the world around me has increased in pessimism, but in the past few weeks, I've been losing faith not only in the world but in myself. I've always prided myself on having good morals and always doing the right thing. I think it's become so much a part of who I am that people even expect it from me, but it pains me to think that they might be wrong. I feel like I've been making some bad decisions lately, that these bad decisions will become mistakes, and that these mistakes will define who I am.

"People are gonna disappoint you. I get that, I kind of expect that. But I don't know, what if you get up one day and realize that you're the disappointment?"

Change.

Change is good, I suppose. Sometimes you fall into such a regular pattern that you don't even know what you're doing anymore. Then suddenly you're looking at your life from an aerial view and it's like when you're in an airplane looking out the window and all you see is the blue, blue ocean to the north, west, east, and south.

Look at the seasons, how they're constantly changing. In a single month, the leaves will change into an array of orange, yellow, and brown colors, and then cease to exist at all. The branches will then be covered in thick layers of heavy snow but those feisty little leaves always fight their way back. Before you know it, the gray branches are speckled with little green sprouts and by the time school is out, every tree is covered in a luscious cluster of emerald leaves. It's a cycle of nature.

I guess we're a part of this cycle as well. At times, change is intimidating; sometimes, we crave it. Right now? I need it.

P.S. It's ridiculous how long I spent choosing a new layout for this blog, but I suppose that had to change too.

Character.

So I've come to realize that I'm a pretty bad judge of character. But what I've also come to realize is that my own character has been incorrectly judged as well. I seem to have acquired a reputation as "the nice girl," and for the most part, I suppose that's who I am. But I think people are confusing "nice" with "naive" -- and this bothers me. Can't someone be nice without being a pushover?

Insanity.

So yesterday in Contemporary Issues of Science (I actually really love this class) Ms. Ryan amazed me by saying, "Do you guys realize that you're moving in like five different directions at the same time? The earth is rotating on its axis, and then it's revolving around the sun, which is part of a solar system that is shifting within the galaxy, which is changing position in the Universe, which is doing who knows what..."

Perhaps I can use this as an excuse for why I've been feeling so off center lately.

Runaway Dreams.

I hold most of my dreams within the confines of my heart. There, they beat with a steady rhythm; they pump my blood with a powerful perseverance, a constant force at the core of my body. But every so often these dreams go wild, grabbing my ribs and shaking them like a jail door, threatening to break loose. Then my heart starts beating in some irregular pattern and before I know it my dreams have seeped into my veins, occupied every corner of my body, gained full control of my entire being.

I will confess to you a secret -- at times like these, times when my dreams grow disproportionate with reality, I become afraid, terribly, terribly, afraid. And I begin to fear that if my dreams don't come true, they will leave me through a fountain of tears and there will be nothing left to pump my heart. Nothing left to circulate my blood, nothing left to keep the color in the my cheeks, nothing left to put the skip in my step, nothing left...of me.

Summer.

I heard my parents talking this morning about plans for the summer. They want to go back to Taiwan for a month. Normally, I'd greet such a vacation with irrepressible enthusiasm; but this morning when I heard we'd be going back for so long I felt so sad that I actually surprised myself. Eating out at delicious restaurants every day and shopping at night markets to my heart's content, spending time with relatives and cousins and falling into the habit of speaking fluent Mandarin. When have I ever thought about these experiences with apprehension?

It's only January and the fear of losing my friends (and losing what I see now as "precious" time with them) is already starting to creep up on me. I hear alumni talk about their friends - except now they always differentiate between "high school friends" and "college friends." I don't want to turn my back for a second and suddenly realize that my "friends" have become "high school friends" - as if they were a thing of the past. I know I don't really share this blog with many of my friends but if you are a friend (even one who I'm not close with) I hope you realize how much I value your friendship. I know I'm not the type to throw my feelings out in the open very often, but believe me, I am more attached to the people in my life than they will ever know, and as much as I love Taiwan, I sincerely hope I spend the bulk of my summer right here in East Brunswick with the people I love most.

Full Speed Ahead.

"There seems to be a kind of order in the universe, in the movement of the stars and the turning of the earth and the changing of the seasons, and even in the cycle of human life. But human life itself is almost pure chaos." --Katherine Anne Porter

Every day is crazier than the next, but we never give up. This amazes me. How did we end up on this planet? How do we get through every day without knowing what the meaning of life is? Do we even know what we're living for? I honestly don't know what the significance of my existence is - don't get me wrong, I don't mean this in the self-pitying I'm-a-useless-displacement-of-air kind of way, I mean I really see no real reason why humans exist at all, other than the simple cause and effect of a scientific miracle. And yet despite the fact that our entire race emerged out of a sheer accident, each one of us wakes up every morning to go to school or go to work, to get an education and to make money. Each one of us expends countless thoughts on plans for the future, blueprints of our dreams. Each one of us spends our high school lives working to get into college, our college lives working to get a job, and our careers working to get money, and use this money on our children so that they can do the same all over again. I'm not trying to be dismal; I don't think our lives are pointless. I guess I just find our daily scramble to be strangely amazing. We struggle to keep going even when we don't know where we're headed. Whether the sun is rising or setting, we chase the horizon until we run out of breath. Why?

Fail.

So today I showered with Victoria's Secret Pink Energizing Body Wash with Citrus and Mint. "Packed with U.S. - sourced Citrus and natural Mint to exfoliate and refresh, plus a boost of caffeine from Coffee Beans to energize." Funny, because I got out of the shower, went to my room, and fell asleep.

Piano.

So I'm playing this really hard piece right now for piano and I kind of suck at it. Anyways, at the end of my lesson this morning my teacher was like, "Do you want to keep playing this piece? I don't want you to be struggling with it if it's above your skill level. We can play something else..."

I find that sadly insulting. I mean I guess I figured that after taking lessons from her for the past 11 years or so, there was no piece that she would decide is "too hard for me." There are only so many notes, right? And each note corresponds to one key on the piano. Sure, it can be hard, but the basics are easy, so as long as you know how to play you can play just about anything - all you need is practice. At least that's the way I saw things. And even if a piece is "too difficult," how will I ever get better if I don't learn it?

But her lack of faith in me this morning was sort of disheartening. I hope I prove her wrong.

2011.

I forgot to make resolutions this year. I'll improvise as I go along.