So... school starts tomorrow.

I don't think it'll hit me that I'm a senior until it's all over.

But I guess that's okay.

Good night, everyone.

:o)

Oh, and happy birthday Alice, Rebecca, me, Donna, and Anna.

August birthdays for the win. I love it when we all grow up together.

college = fear

College is getting to me.

And it's not even that I don't know where to apply, or that I won't have enough financial aid, or even that I don't think that I'll get in anywhere; it's that I'm afraid that I'm going to get into a wonderful college and pay lots of money and come out still not knowing what I'm doing with my life. And then I'll end up in some mediocre-paying job that I'll hate. Either that, or I just won't make money, because none of my interests are practical enough (nor am I spectacular enough) to make anything out of it. I'm afraid that my college education will be a waste because I won't know how to use it. I'm afraid that I'm not as smart or talented as everyone somehow thinks I am. I'm afraid that I'll be too afraid to disappoint my parents (or society) to not do something traditional. Some cubicle job, or some job with prestige. I'm afraid that this fear is going to stop me from doing something great, if I can even achieve something great.

I am so scared, and I feel like I'm back at square one all over again. Where'd all my confidence go?

my lengthy adventure on friday the 13th

Warning: this is super lengthy with a lot of my random opinions.

You know where I woke up? In the little tunnel of the neighborhood playground, the one where you have to crawl through to get to the other side. Well. Yesterday night, at around three am. I decided to go outside and see if I could catch any meteors. Unfortunately, the street lamps were blinding, and my backyard was creeping with loud critters and frightening noises, so I decided to give it ten minutes before I went back inside. The door happened to be locked. I don't know how that happened, but all I knew was that I could not get back in my house at 3:10 am. So I went to the playground, laid on the bench for an hour, got restless, and moved to the tunnel of the playground. And I slept there until 6:30, when I woke up extremely cold and gross. My excuse is that I wanted to live the life of a hobo for a night.

Nature is very loud. It hisses at you, and it coughs up every unnatural noise that could very well make you piss in your pants. I lay there frozen in that tunnel, pulling my shirt over my legs and bunched in a ball, listening to that strange and eerie sound of some unknown animal. It might have been a sick deer. And I listened to the croaking crickets (crickets croak?!) and the buzzing frogs, and that's when I knew I was getting tired. Then the owls started whooping, and the birds started hooting, and so I burrowed my head into the hard plastic and tried to make it go away. What an exhausting night.

Then I got out of the tunnel at 7 am because a sick man started coughing near the playground, and I wanted to avoid all human contact as possible, so I jumped out of there and walked away as calmly as possible. And I went to my backyard and sat there until my parents left the house at 8:30.

You know, benches are not comfortable at all. I always thought they looked alright, especially when I saw the homeless all bundled up and cozy. What a joke. It's mid-August, and I still felt so cold out there. And no, I did not get to see any meteors, because I was trying to fall asleep. It's such a strange sensation, to think about all the normal things you did during the day [eat at waffle house, make some money, watch a movie, drink beverages from mcdonalds], and then find yourself sleeping on a bench at three in the morning. But it was okay for me because I knew I could just go back to my bed in the morning. Homeless people have to live every day knowing that there is nowhere to go. It's not like they have a go-to bench, or a more homey plank of wood. It's not like it's a temporary one-night thing.

And I hate it when people think it's their fault. Admittedly, some are to blame, but as I was thinking about my views last night in the cold, I finally realized who I am and what political categories I fall into. I'm morally conservative but fiscally liberal. There. I decided that that's that. I am not going to be swayed anymore. I don't believe in legalized abortion or legalized gay marriage (sue me, but that's what my God commands), but I'm for taxing the wealthy more than the poor. Ah, screw it all though. I hate politics. Sure, I support the government, but I don't know why everyone needs to be so torn up- even Christians. Let me copy and paste something I wrote:

what if we just didn't care about politics? i'm not saying to ignore it, of course, but why do you think it's important to focus on politics when there's still so much to fix about ourselves? we protest gay marriages while divorcing at the same rate that non-christians divorce at, we oppose the government and its secrecy while reveling in our own slander and greed, we ridicule abortion while holding hate in our hearts; why are we focusing so much on the laws of the land and the actions of others when we are in desperate need of fixing ourselves? I feel like Jesus talked more about our hypocrisies than he did against the government; he never talked of things like liberalism and conservatism, and he never straight out bashed Caesar. our job is to be the body of CHRIST, his people- not a nation. admittedly, i do believe that we should have federal laws against abortion, but i don't believe in all this energy that's being used to so adamantly protest this and that law, because i really don't think that's our purpose, especially when there's bigger problems (even down the street) than politics, starting with ourselves. abortion and homosexuality are clearly sins, but that doesn't mean that the government needs to be involved with it all. lying is a sin, as is adultery, and worshiping any other god, but the government does not make laws about those. i just feel like all this talk about politics is unnecessary, because honestly, we've got to look at ourselves.

So now that I've made my spiel about politics, let's move on, haha. I don't even know who's reading this. I feel like blogs died and revived in tumblr form. Which is really addicting, by the way. I can't get enough of it. Anyways though. As I was sitting in my own backyard waiting to go inside, I couldn't help but to think, gee, knowledge comes with so much responsibility. When you grow up and gain experience, everyone just expects you to take responsibility after learning of the things of this world, of the good things and bad things. If I were a kid and had found myself locked outside, my mom would've understood, because hey, I was just a kid. But at sixteen years old? My mother would've thrown a fit. You know better than that.

That's the same with religion though. I ran across this quote the other day:

"How much do you have to hate someone to not share your faith?"

And it's true. Because if you really realize the seriousness of heaven and hell, and that your best friend could very well be eternally damned, then why wouldn't you share your faith? Screw the whole "i-don't-want-to-offend-him" mindset; who cares? This life is temporary. If you really believed that the person sitting next to you in school or on the bus could go to hell, why wouldn't you try to save them? I wish we all didn't feel it so necessary to not be offensive. The beauty of it is that the quote was said by an atheist and outspoken opponent against organized religion:

"how much do you have to hate somebody to not proselytize? how much do you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible and not tell them that?"

I'm not going to pretend anymore. I know I can't control anyone, but as a Christian, the least I could do is share my faith, not stand aside and pretend to be okay with other choices. It's not that I'm intolerant, or that I hate you, or anything like that. It's a sincere belief in my religion and in my God, and a desire to bring you along with the ride.

Because I do need to stop acting like everything's okay. Christians shouldn't be of the world. We should be aliens.

And there it is.

Dear Seniors of 2010:

My feet are sore, and my eyes are heavy, and my mom got angry because I drove past curfew, and I spent 3/4 of my gas tank just driving to all the places to prepare (ie Target, Party City x3, Dollar Tree x4, Publix x4, CVS x3, Ritchie's house x2, Rebecca's house x3, I don't know why we couldn't manage to get everything at once), but honestly, I'm pretty positive that it was worth it. I wouldn't have had it any other way; you all deserve it. You all deserve it a million times.

The memories I've had!

I remember my first year volunteering at VBS. I had signed up for the worship team because I wanted to be with you guys. Tammy, Melissa, Helena, Tinny - you guys were what I viewed as cool. Haha- I'd laugh, but the problem is that I still do think the same thing. I would sit on my computer and scroll through the pictures on facebook and think, pwehehe I am hanging out with older people, I am so cool. But it's just that I had never been in the company of people who were so much fun to be with. I had never laughed so much, or felt so accepted by people who I hardly knew. Honestly, I was going to be a dirty little freshman, and you guys were going to be sophomores who already knew the ropes in high school, and freshmen and sophomores do not usually associate. So I was thankful. And Tammy, I did admire you from afar. All my friends did.

And then I heard about Christine, who was not on the worship team but was instead a teacher, and I realized too that it's okay to want to be a teacher, and that it's not a terrible thing to not be on the worship team. That's what I realized. And it's a good thing too, because I do love to teach. I'd like to be a teacher one day.

And then came freshmen year, and Melissa, you waved like a silly little girl in the hallways and that one morning at FCA, and you invited me to sit with you at lunch and I never felt better at my first day of high school. I still thought you had to raise your hand to get out of your seat like in middle school, man. It was good you had my back.

And Monique, you and I, we were crazy, and we laced fingers and skipped down the halls together, singing backstreet boys at the top of our lungs. And Nashville, oh Nashville, it seems like so long ago. I can hardly believe it happened- all that crap that you cried through and that crazy windy night and the way we prayed and the people we met and talked to and the delicious food we ate... and fast forward to winter retreat, when we laid out on the dock in the freezing night, staring at the stars, and you pointed out the constellations and told me that no, that was not a shooting star, but a satellite. And we cracked jokes, hysterical jokes, that everyone laughed at I swear. And it was good times. I can still feel the biting wind on my neck and laughing, so hard.

And then Christine and I got drunk on that biting wind, or something in the air. It's the best thing to get drunk on, I'll say.

And I went to Azalea Apartments, and all of us, we slept together, and I told bedtime stories to Monique, and I fed Christine, and I ran with Melissa and Tinny to Chinatown to deliver a watermelon to someone, and we were out of breath... and we played with the children and we performed random skits and we washed the dishes and played guitar at night and ate Mochi and watched Up and had amazing meals together... and it was good times. It was wonderful times.

And then this past year, with everything, oh wow - the haunted house (I am amazed still that I survived), the early morning WaHo visits, the crazy large homecoming, the core groups, and youth groups, the faux prom, the laser tagging, the the the-

It's those things that stick out to me when I look back. Sure there's all the stress from school and the drama with friends, and all the crap that we complain about, but no, these are the times that I can look back on and say with confidence, I was happy. I was happy and there were no hard feelings, no ulterior motives. It was pure, it was real. Guys, I hope you can at least get an inkling of what kind of impact you've had on me, because it's amazing, the way it happened.

And now, it's my turn to step up. And our day will come too. And things will come, and things will go. Today, when I was cleaning things up, I was thinking, wow, this is what I had wanted to do five years ago, and here I am. Here I am. You know, I had always wanted to be in the "in" crowd, to be accepted; that's just how I am. I've always wanted to avoid problems and make sure everyone's happy. But you guys have taught me, kindof ironically, that it's not about being "in," but about reaching out to the people on the outside. There is no such thing as "in." It's all in our heads. It doesn't even matter.

But this matters, and we matter, and God matters. And I am so thankful, and so happy, and so content. Thanks for being the sisters I needed. Go forth and prosper - and you know what I mean by "prosper."

Btw: Thank you so much to Jason, Christina, Rebecca, Kasandra, Ritchie, and Jaime (who was there in spirit); we are the class of 2011, and we're going to be great. There is so much love in this post right now.

A CASE STUDY ON THE CAPITAL LETTER

SO YESTERDAY NIGHT, I DECIDED TO TALK TO EVERYONE USING ONLY CAPITAL LETTERS, IN AN ATTEMPT TO RID OF THE SHOUTING VOICE ASSOCIATED WITH IT. I OBSERVED A FEW THINGS AMIDST ALL THIS, AND IT WAS ACTUALLY QUITE INTERESTING. FIRSTLY, THE CAPITAL LETTER WAS NOT ORIGINALLY MADE TO MAKE PEOPLE SOUND MORE EXCITED OR MORE ANGRY. ACTUALLY, IT WAS WHAT WAS THEY STARTED WITH, AND THEN THEY INVENTED THE LOWERCASE LETTER SO THAT THEY COULD WRITE FASTER, AND IT'S INTERESTING TO SEE HOW THE CAPITAL LETTER HAS EVOLVED. THESE ARE THE THINGS I OBSERVED OUT OF THE FEW PEOPLE I TALKED TO:

1. PEOPLE AUTOMATICALLY BECOME HAPPIER WHEN HAVING A CONVERSATION IN ALL CAPITAL LETTERS. QUOTE ONE GUY: "I FEEL LIKE A BIGGER, HAPPIER VERSION OF MYSELF." CAPITAL LETTERS SEEM TO HAVE A EUPHORIC, ALMOST DRUG-LIKE EFFECT ON A PERSON. WOULDN'T IT BE GREAT IF WE COULD REPLACE DRUGS WITH CAPITAL LETTERS?
2. ONE FEELS WORN OUT AND TIRED AFTER AN ENTIRE CONVERSATION OF CAPITAL LETTERS, SIMILAR TO THE "COMING DOWN" EFFECT OF DRUGS OR THE "CRASH" OF A CAFFEINATED DRINK.
3. WHEN I STARTED TALKING TO PEOPLE IN CAPITAL LETTERS, MOST OF THEM IMMEDIATELY RESPONDED IN CAPITAL LETTERS AS WELL, AS IF THEY FELT THREATENED AND HAD TO LIVE UP TO THE LARGENESS OF THE CONVERSATION.
4. THE CONVERSATIONS FELT MORE IMPORTANT AND MORE INTENSE, AND THEY LASTED LONGER THAN THEY USUALLY WOULD. EVERYBODY RESPONDED FASTER TOO.
5. EVERYTHING I SAY BECOMES MORE BLOWN UP. IF I SAY "HAHA," THE JOKE SEEMS INFINITELY FUNNIER. IF I SAY "NO," I SOUND LIKE AN EXTREMELY TEMPERAMENTAL AND ANGRY PMS-Y GIRL. THIS IS HOW IT IS, EVEN IN A CONVERSATION OF ALL CAPS.
6. THE LOWERCASE BECOMES MORE POWERFUL IN A CONVERSATION OF ALL CAPS. IT HAS THE EFFECT OF, QUOTE ONE PERSON, "THE ROOM GETTING REALLY QUIET AND SOMEONE WHISPERING REALLY SERIOUSLY." THIS IS A REVOLUTIONARY WAY TO MAKE OTHERS TAKE YOU SERIOUSLY ONLINE.
7. THE UPPERCASE LETTER MAKES PEOPLE THINK OF YOU AS A JOKE, AND NOBODY WILL TAKE YOU SERIOUSLY.

SO I HAVE A QUESTION FOR YOU: DID you TAKE THIS POST SERIOUSLY?

PS: I HAVE YET TO GET RID OF THE SHOUTING VOICE. IT IS STILL THERE.

>> tumblr is here

>> yellowchalk.tumblr.com

I decided that I'm going to share stuff on it. Like all the videos that I obsess about, and all the music, and random pictures. That's what tumblr's supposed to be about anyways. Minimal thinking and expression through music and visuals. I don't know what's up with the minimalistic trend lately, but I do kindof like it. It's better when things are simple and white.

Anyways, check it out if you're looking for random things to surf through on the net.

Sixth Grade

[ if you don't remember, this is from a series of vignettes, found here ]

I sat at the lunch table uncomfortably, divided between the “popular” group of Asians and my one best friend since third grade- the girl who had never really fit in anywhere except at my house. She was clad in an orange long-sleeves shirt with a picture of a cartoon girl in pigtails and overalls sewn on the front; she wore matching orange pants and oversized velcro shoes. She rested her head on her hand and drawled on about how she desired to be a popular white girl, and I nodded in fake sympathy, secretly desiring to scoot over a chair and join in on the conversation of the group nearby.

“I wish I could buy some clothes from Abercrombie, but my mom wouldn’t let me go in that store,” she said wistfully.

“Mmhmm.”

“Or try Starbucks coffee; that’s what those popular girls always do.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m going to buy some gum tomorrow too, and I’ll start acting mean like them.”

“Sure.”

“You think it’ll work?”

“It’s worth a try.”

I knew it wouldn’t work; I just wanted her off my back. But I was too nice to say anything about it. I eagerly leaned my head toward the other group of girls, listening in on their conversations as my best friend remained lost in her thoughts, unsatisfied with the social circle she was currently part of. Not that I was any different.

RIP Mr. Sung

I guess maybe it's my fault that I've been purposely ignoring all the bad things in this world and living in my own happy little bubble. I told myself, no, you are not naive because you are happy. You see the world for all its evil, and you simply embrace the good things. That's what makes you different. That's what makes you mature. But I looked up Mr. Sung's murder and I cried like a baby, because first of all it was a horrible death for someone who seemed so great (and guiltless!), and second of all I don't know why I've always been so stranger to it all. I don't know why I always have to give excuses to people. I don't know why I always have to give people the benefit of doubt, when it's practically obvious where they stand. I don't know why I always side with the person getting blamed. Maybe it's a good thing. But I don't doubt that if I were to go to downtown Atlanta and start talking with a homeless guy, and he started telling me about all the guys he killed, I would probably sit and nod like a dog, and understand and sympathize, in a weird way. As long as he felt bad about it. That's my justification for everything. Not like it get rids of all the deaths and all the bad things. In fact, it probably makes it worse.

But what I really don't get is why someone would stab such a good guy, and repeatedly too, for no apparent reason. If he wanted to rob the store, he could've done it without killing someone he had nothing against. I guess there's always going to be bad people in this world; that's the best I've got. But is it our faults too? Is it all us pompous rich kids, who turn down our windows to a probably nice homeless guy, who stare condescendingly at the hobos on the bench, who look at a rugged guy in a grocery store and conspicuously turn the other way and walk into the next aisle? Is it our faults, that we press it into their heads from day one that they're bad people. Oh, you're black, and you live in a poor area, therefore you are bad. Is it our faults?

Here I am again, trying to justify the bad people. But you've got to wonder, were they always like that? And are we really that much different, that much better?

Of course, I've got better things to worry about than deaths and murders and silly things like that. Of course, don't we all.