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.