It's like a river of hot lava.*

It's like a huge river of hot lava, flowing in massive currents, with metallic crocodiles viciously swimming around. You and the rest of the world just killed Jesus, so you're running and running, until you find this river of lava. And all these people are jumping, trying to jump across this 30 feet wide river, to escape their guilt, to get away from what they just did. You see people all around, jumping five feet and dying, jumping six feet and dying, jumping ten feet and dying. You see Michael Phelps, and he jumps 18 feet, but he still dies. No matter how far people try to jump, they still die. And so you decide to jump to your fate too. And it's like God suddenly built a bridge under your feet, right before you could die. You obviously don't deserve it. You deserve to die; you just killed God's son for goodness sake.

And yet, God's grace still saved you. This is beyond any love you've ever seen, past all the anger and revenge plaguing the world. He kept you from falling into the lava, so that you could walk on the bridge to the other side and join Him. You don't deserve it. Nobody deserves it. So, you complain about how God isn't fair? How it's unjust for Him to save only Christians and not Muslims or all the other good people of the world? Well, if God were to be fair, then we'd all go to hell, every single one of us, for the sins that we've committed. But He is merciful...

So God's built this bridge for you. But there's still something you're not good at- maybe you have a speech impediment, maybe you think you're ugly, maybe you're shy, maybe you're blind. So you ask God, please, please get rid of this feature. Make me better. But why? That's like trying to jump on this bridge that God's already made for you; why are you still trying to jump when you can just walk across? Why do you need to be pretty, when you're already on the bridge, when God's already saved your life? You can stop jumping now. Because from here-on out, it's all God. All your talent, it's made possible by God.

Oh, praise God! How wonderful it is, His mercy!

*Analogy heard from Joyce Zou :)

my mother and I

Usually at dinner, I gorge myself with the Chinese food and finish it in about ten minutes, then rush back into my cave of a room to sit down and do productive things (or something along those lines). But today, I sat at the dinner table for a good hour, just talking to my mom. And it was nice, because I didn't cry once, which is actually a pretty big step in my life, since I tend to cry a lot around my mom (she just makes me very emotional, what can I say).

I talked about my future and how my life would basically end after I got a child, since I'd be too busy taking care of the darn thing to travel anywhere or do something amazing like change the world. I'd have to find some permanent job at age 30 and raise a family, even with so much life left. Then I realized that I probably offended her, because she was one of those women who got married at 20 and had a child at 21 or 22. But she looked at me and smiled, and said that it was the most honorable thing that she's ever done, and we had that cheesy mother-daughter moment for a few split seconds. Moms can get really cheesy (insert senior ads), but it's not like they show the tearful and overdramatic mother-daughter relationships in movies for no reason.

Then she asked me if she thought I'd marry a white guy or an Asian guy, and we had fun with that. I doubt you care, but I have never even contemplated a white husband until recently. It is not my fault! The Asian ideal guy has been imprinted in me ever since I came to this Asian-infested city. It's actually slightly sad; whenever I go to camp, the first guys I see are Asian. But I think that this infatuation for Asian guys has finally expired, because I am so sick of them. The thought of a white husband no longer makes me raise my eyebrow with confusion (probably because I don't have a bad image of one yet). Aye. Who cares though. I will never be able to escape Asians. It's in me. Forever.

We talked about her CEOs and their speeches, and then we talked about a guy who skipped his entire high school years, then we talked about people changing in college, then we talked about college essays, then we talked about all my friends... and it felt so wonderful. It felt so nostalgic. I'm going to miss my mother so much; she's basically the reason that I was able to get through physics, the reason I was able to get through my breakup, the reason I sing songs to myself and appreciate the small things in life and manage to break out in a smile every day. I've never met someone so level-headed and loving. So here's to you, mom. Only you could get that excited about buying pants for my brother or random salmon dip from Whole Foods.

I'm a rockstar no matter what online games tell me

Right, so it's been a good month (and a half?) since I've been here. I blame it on the laptop spontaneously deciding to be a teenage female drama queen, deciding to try drugs while on her period, then crashing. Goodbye various important documents and a few hundred of my favorite songs; farewell!

I don't remember what I'm supposed to use this thing for anymore. I don't know who I'm talking to either. I do feel comfortable in this little room I've isolated myself in. It's too loud outside. Too many people.

I'd rather sit and play Hit Machine on OMGPOP. Yes. Oh freaking yes. It's basically FFR, which is DDR for the fingers. I don't know why I think that I'm playing the piano when I'm hitting these keys on the keyboard, and I don't know why I act like I'm playing a ridiculously amazing drum solo or strumming along on my banjo, when I only get 50% accuracies (which means I only manage to correctly "tap" half of the notes). But man, the fantasies sure do take me far. I close my eyes (maybe that's why I'm only tapping half of the notes) and tap tap away on my keyboard, hey look I'm a jazz pianist, oh wait now I'm a rockstar and everybody loves me, wow I did not know I could play guitar and bass at the same time, look at me go! Oh, wow, I actually hit that note, there's so much color on my screen oh my gosh I'm blinded by my awesomeness!

And then I realize that I'm still in front of my computer, wasting time playing some game on OMGPOP...

But yes. That is how I've been wasting my time for the past month while I've been gone. I wish I could say that I won some kind of online award (actually, that'd probably be sad), but I don't think I've even improved much (still talking about Hit Machine). Well, I did. I improved from a 50% accuracy to a 75% accuracy. But that's still failing. So I guess I should go find something better to do.

Okay, so remember how we all used to post on our xangas these short little blurbs of every single thing that's happening in our lives (or was that just me)? Yeah, that's coming:

• Homecoming is quickly approaching, and I suppose it's still pretty exciting despite the fact that the entire nation of China (and Taiwan) decided to tag along.
• My common app essay is about how much of a wuss I am (aka i-like-to-cry-even-during-inappropriate-times)
• I found a notebook that me and three other friends used to pass around and write in in 8th grade. Its name was "Le Fanton," derived from Fanta. It was really silly, and it's embarrassing to read my entries in it, but I suppose I will feel the same way years from now while reading back on this stupid blog post.
• The first issue of the school magazine looks amazing. It is my baby that I managed to get without being pregnant or having sex with .. paper? Okay, I guess I didn't have to elaborate on that one.
• I am going to an interactive zombie apocalypse on the Sunday after homecoming. They give us guns, and we get to shoot the live zombies that come at us. I don't actually know how that works; will something actually shoot out of our guns, so that when they feel it, they'll pretend to drop dead? I hope it's a dart gun. I don't want to go. I'm still scared, even after that terrible Netherworld fiasco last year. But I have to go since I volunteered to write the article... what the heck?!
• The whole interactive thing seems to be the hot thing these days. Google docs is also interactive and it is the best thing ever invented. I wonder if they'll make movies interactive too. I really would like to go into Inception, kick out the Juno girl, and sit in Joseph Gordon-Levitt's lap. Oh, and the whole getting stuck in a dream thing would be cool too, I guess.
• School's hard but I don't care
• This is getting a bit long.

Right, so I'm so glad that you are just as obsessed about me as I am about myself. Okay, bye. What? Do I usually say bye at the end of posts? Wow, I feel like I'm in 8th grade again, writing on a xanga. It's a wonderful feeling.

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.