So, here we are again, staring at the end of what we made and who we are.
We built it up. Excitement. Frustration. Anticipation. Patience.
And it finally came. Prom, 2009.
I want to rant my day out to you. It started hectic in the middle of Flushing, in the hot summer rain. My hair was hard as plastic from all the hair spray, and my feet were wet from failing to jump over puddles of rain. My head was heavy. The hairspray was heavier than I thought.
I was running an hour late (I really had nothing to do with this). I was dropped off at my house, and I rushed to get my dress together, while thinking about make-up, nails, and packing for the after-prom. I picked up my date an hour later than I had promised him. Yeah... It didn't start so great.
It got better though. After all the picture taking and even more picture taking, we got into our limo. I've never been inside a limo before! I gotta say, it's smaller than it looks. All 24 of us were cramped hip to hip, face to face, dress to tux and tux to dress.
Sooner or later, we finally got there. Apparently, we were all waiting for the whole school to get there. They herded us to a cocktail area, where we took even more pictures, and drank fruity little drinks, and ate cheese and crackers. We watched two couples get into a fight. Cups were thrown and chairs were grabbed. A girl burst into tears and the guy opened up his arms and shrugged his shoulders, clueless as what to do. It was funny.
At last, they opened up the doors and we were allowed into the main area. Actually, it looked like any other sweet-16 I have been to. Perhaps smaller. It didn't bother me though. It was prom!
The dance floor was a bit too small and could not fit all of us. I just waited around until it became darker and the songs got better. Well, the songs didn't get better. The DJ sucked.
I love that kind of mood. Music blasting and people dancing. People dancing as if nobody is looking at them, dancing as if they are the only ones around. It's amazing. It's fun. I guess I danced. Mostly with my date/boyfriend. In the past, in sweet-16s, I always danced with other girls because... well, I didn't know any guys. Dancing with a guy was different. And fun :)
The food was not worth $80, but I can't argue. I think the desserts were the best part of the dinner. Which is pretty sad, but oh wells. I guess they like making desserts more than main meals.
By the end, my feet hurt. My ears were ringing. I was tired but I didn't want to sleep. I didn't want to stop.
Prom '09 was amazing. I want to bring it back.
So I'll leave before I fall apart right back into your arms.
My Grandma and her brother (do I call that Great Uncle?) are coming from Korea. No, I'm not excited.
The last time they came over, all they did was criticize everything I did. Not so much my Grandma, but my Great Uncle does that a lot. Because my Dad was the first child and the smart child, they always encouraged him to go toward academics, and scolded him whenever he leaned toward the arts or music. They're doing the same thing again. Except this time, you don't need to excel academically to earn money. This is a different world, oldies.
So I constantly heard, You would make a good doctor, or You would make a good dentist. No I wouldn't. I don't want to make a good doctor, I don't want to be a good dentist. And I know it.
Not only that, they always picked on me and the way I look. Everyday, my Great Uncle would look at my 16-year old sister and say something like, You have the body of a model! You should be a fashion designer! (I have no idea what those two things have in common). My Grandma would look at my sister and compliment, saying, You have the real feminine body. That's what everyone likes.
Yeah, thank you.
No wonder I felt pressured and went anorexic skinny after that.
Right now, I'm not skinny. I'm back to the way I was when they last visited. What're they going to say now? You're a fat, ugly, masculine first child. But you're smart. Very smart. Why don't you become a doctor?
Oh sorry, were you talking to me?
I wrote this before they came to see how it goes. We'll see.
If you have one, you'll understand. If you don't have one, you'll still understand. If you have one and don't understand, you lucky bitch.
My mom...
1. Believes my friends will drink, therefore pressuring me to drink also. And she thinks we'll all get drunk and have a big wild orgy.
2. Thinks he and I will kiss *oh noes* 3. Thinks he and I will do something very shameful! And if and when we do break up in the future, we'll be so ashamed, we won't be able to look at each other in the eye.
4. Declares kids don't know anything about anything. We live plastic lives. We live easy lives. Easy. Yes, mom. So easy for me.
5. Is only caring for me, and watching out for my life.
6. I don't like this number.
7. We will all have sex. Yes, we will all do it in the 2 bedrooms available.
8. Believes not sending me to after-prom will make my prom experience a lot better.
9. Does not trust my friend's Aunt or Mom.
10. Assumes I will drown. I've been swimming since I was 6-years old.
11. Cannot trust my friends, because she doesn't know them. I tell her I'll introduce them. She says no, I don't want to meet them. You don't give me any other option.
12. Hates America.
13. Dislikes non-Christians.
14. Reminds me I'm a sinner and I sin very much.
15. I need to read the Bible more.
16. Believes adults cannot have friends. I tell her that's sad. She tells me I'm naive and that's just how the world works.
17. If he goes, she tags along to after-prom. If he doesn't go, she won't have to tag along.
I love you in such a way that makes me feel comfortable around you. So comfortable, sometimes I can fall asleep around you without having to worry. I still think you are beautiful and charming, intelligent and funny, caring and loving. You are perfect up and down and inside and out. You are so perfect, it makes me feel a bit inadequate. Around you, I feel calm, and I can concentrate more. I get all giddy and happy inside. Sometimes I kind of want to explode. I just want to hug you; give you a bear hug. A long hug where we don't do anything except simply hug. And sometimes, I want to just kiss you out of nowhere. Spontaneously. Because my heart tell me to.
I have a project due Monday. I wonder what would happen if I didn't turn it in. Hmm...
I also have a test on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. And Prom the following Monday. After-prom that Tuesday. And a Physics Regents on the Wednesday after the after-prom.
I'm going to pull an all-nigher tonight. For a project that's due after the last day of school.
I love this picture. Because of my cowboy friend of course. P.S. I'm not in the picture.
High school is over. The high school I complained about every morning, for having to wake up so early to go to. The high school I hated because of the ginormous amounts of homework. The high school I wanted to run away from because of the limited freedom.
And-- The high school I loved because of the amazing people in it. The high school I shared my laughter in. The high school that began to shape who I am. The high school I learned to love and take in as part of my life. The high school that made me think Blue and Gray on school spirit day. The high school with decent cafeteria food. The high school with no air conditioners. The high school with awkward science teachers, funny English teachers, weird science teachers, heroic social studies teachers, passionate math teachers, and the creative and wild arts and music teachers. The high school I never though I would ever learn to love. The high school in New York. The high school with 1,500 kids. The high school I'm fearful to leave.
I want to go to California. I want to go to California. I want to go to California. California is so much better than New York in a million different ways. California has sun. California's skies don't cry as much as New York skies. California is semi-cold in the winter. California is hot in the summer. California is dry. California has a real beach. California is by the Pacific Ocean. California is my first home in the U.S. California holds nostalgic memories. California has friendly people. California is chill. California is relaxed. California is laid back. California is fuzzy. California is greater than New York.
But truth is, I can't let go of the memories I have made in New York.
But you would never know how much I hate this person. You would not admit that I know what "hate" is. Because I am a sweet and a caring girl. I am happy all year round. I am optimistic. I am filled with joy. I cannot hate anyone. Oh no, I cannot possibly hate anyone.
Oh, but I do.
Once, just once I ask, for your respect. Maybe twice, but that's asking way too much.
Perhaps one day, I will have the courage to abandon all things and walk up to you, stare at you in the eye, and tell you how I have felt all these years.
I recently had a dream that gave me shivers and goosebumps as I woke up. There weren't any scary, bloody little girls or zombies crawling to get to my brain.
It was simply this:
Things that existed in my life ceased to exist.
Just like that.
One by one, everything that made up my life started to disappear. My pencil case disappeared. My books disappeared. My notebooks, backpack, laptop, desk. My friends disappeared, as if they had never been born. My family disappeared. I was freaked out, because nobody else noticed it.
And then, I disappeared. I watched myself disappear. I became part of the air, and all I could do is watch everything else slowly continue to disappear.
Is this what happens when you graduate high school? Everything, everyone you knew - do they go away?
I know UP is a Disney-Pixar movie, but it's so darn amazing!
One of the sweetest quotes:
The boring moments are the moments I remember the most. (or something similar)
I thought the movie was really funny and cute, but very meaningful at the same time. I cried in the beginning, the middle, and the end. It was sad and really happy.
One of the cutest, funniest, saddest and happiest movies I've ever seen. Everything about the movie is just beautiful.
I'm so frustrated and angry and there's so much emotion building up inside me. I've got to let it out. I don't know how. I want to scream and punch something. And if I can, I want to bite someone until they bleed.
I have no idea what to do with my life. That's what I realized as I was anxiously signing up for my college classes two days ago.
Here's my short story.
As an 8-year old, I loved to read, draw, cook and swim. And watch TV and sing and show off. Obviously.
In the beginning, I wanted to be an artist. I didn't know what artists did. I just liked drawing and I had to be an artist.
After that, I grew older. Fourth grade, to be exact. I wanted to work in the FBI, like all those cool people with sunglasses and special gadgets and guns.
But that dream died in less than a year, and I started to fall in love with writing. I read and read, and wrote and wrote. I overflowed notebooks and journals numerous times. I wrote short stories, poems, and even attempted to write a book. I got to page 50. Seventh grade. Then, I moved to New York.
Everything I loved had to be put to a stop. Moving 3000 miles away was hard. New Yorkers were weird. They were impatient and such angry people. The girls looked 5 years older than their actual age. The boys looked 5 years younger. They were all so awkward and picky. I had no idea what I was doing. Eighth grade went by in a flash, and needless to say, I don't remember much of what happened.
During that time, I had forgotten everything I loved. My passion for swimming died, and I stopped writing for a year. I fell behind in music and current trends, and was stuck on missing California. When I got bored, I took out a piece of paper and drew, because it was the only thing I could do.
When freshmen year came, I had no real passion. All I knew was that I was pretty good at art, so that's what I went for. An easy way out. I was accepted into a special arts program in high school. Once I was in it, I hated it. I hated being forced to draw. I hated not having any inspiration.
I quit the program and went back to being a normal person by Sophomore year. It's not hard to figure out why. And another year went by without any interest or passion. I gave no thought about my future or my academics. I didn't care, and my carelessness didn't really bother me.
Then I wasted my Junior year away. If I could, I would rewind time and get my 11th grade back. But life doesn't work that way. All I can say is that I stopped writing and drawing. I stopped doing everything altogether. I literally wasted away during the year.
Twelfth grade came. A wake up call to the real world. Time to apply for colleges and think of what to do with my future. When did high school pass by so quickly? Nobody ever told me how fast time would pass by. Why didn't anybody tell me to use my time wisely? Why hadn't anyone warned me of this tragedy? If I had known before, I would not have wasted my time on such momentary things. I would not have wasted my nights catching up with anime and manga. I would not have slept in class. I would not have BS-d my homework. I would not have ignored all the love and help my family poured out at me. I wouldn't have.
But it's not like I can go back to change the past. I guess I wonder, how do people know what to do with their lives? Because I didn't know, and I still don't.
If today was your last day. It's an amazing song.
If I could, I would hold onto time as long as possible. Hold onto this moment. Hold onto my memories. Hold onto it all, because once I let go, they will never come back. It's pathetic, but I wish Time was more understanding.
