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.