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| ... that there is no such thing as conditional love. Love is either unconditional or it's no love. You might like someone conditional on their personality or behavior or circumstances. But love accepts no boundaries. So never say 'I love you because', for love has no cause, love comes from God." If I wanted to love him unconditionally, it's still not possible until the day I start loving myself. That's because I want something from him, something that I should already have for myself. Time tells everything. Everything takes time. By the time I love myself, he'll likely be gone. If he somehow had his hands on my xanga site, and is willing to wait for me, and manages to keep in touch some way or another . . . by the time I love myself, then that's when we can be together. Being eighteen, fairytales are still quite easy to summon from the blues. Reality doesn't hit me right off the bat. Not til now, as I write, at least. Don't worry, I know it's too unlikely! Regretting to write my previous post is pointless. It's all the more clear to me now. It's about time to give myself some loooooovin' ... Hahaha. (: | | |
| Think about the airplane oxygen mask's instruction guide. You see this classy flight attendant narrating the following lines: "Remember: Your Oxygen Mask Comes First! If emergency masks come down, grab the one dangling in front of you and put it on first. If your brain is starved of oxygen, you can pass out or get disoriented, in such a situation, you won't be able to help your child get out of a plane."
(Warning: this topic is actually about . . .  Actually, here's a more appropriate icon. . .  )
Let go of the harbored feelings you have for others; don't let it get to their docks - if you haven't even any to spare for your own dock after shipping them away.
Nurture your own self-esteem and whatever else that's making your life unstable. Make a smooth path for your future interests to walk. Don't start out with significant ditches and bumps. (End note available.)
Forget forming a relationship if your quest-for-self hasn't reached or even come near its destination.
In my case, the caution ribbons will have to stay put, and my harbored feelings are going to stay put on my dock, and I'm going to put that oxygen mask on myself before placing it on my kids. Funny metaphors, eh? I was like, " I don't have kids. What am I talking about? Oh."
This Friday, walking down the staircase with him coming right behind me was no easy task. I stayed quiet, knowing that my feelings weren't for him to be concerned about, knowing that those feelings should be focused on me. That admiration, keenness, and care I had for him should be directed to me. The timing was wrong, and (who knows) he could have been a great candidate for a love life sometime else in the future, but I'd rather focus on myself for now. It was the perfect time to let him go. Let us remain strangers.
My dad handed me a paper with a clinic psychologist's contact info from his work place, still, I'm contemplating about seeing a psych or not. I've signed up to take psychology 101, Beginner's Fitness, Piano (the one that's not intended for those majoring in music), self-esteem class, and BI 231. With psychology and self-esteem classes, I'll learn ways to improve my mentality. With Beginner's Fitness, I'll feel more confident with my body. With piano class, I'll feel like I'm able to do something notable. I'm getting somewhere with my life!
One day, someone will walk the road I've paved- its ditches filled in. . . and its bumps smoothed out. One day, I can tell someone that the caution ribbons are down.
End note-
Yes, a significant other should be someone to help you go through hard times, but if I were to put it out metaphorically, he can always pick up the road kill and litter, but he shouldn't be the one to pave my road.
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| Come in my house; and if you open the closet door in the bedroom hallway, you'll see a row of diverse albums at the very bottom shelf.
Take out the tattered, white album with the gold bands on it, and flip it open. You'll see a photo of my uncles and father with puffy bowl-cuts, in ripped denim-vests, and skinny jeans. They're in poses way too familiar to any young Asian-immigrant boys of the 1980's. My scrawny uncle, who looked no different from now, was posed sidekicking my uncle Michael, who still thinks he's bad-ass. Both of their mouths were open wide, no doubt saying "WoOoooAH~" And then in the next photo, we see a couple more of my uncles and dad in famous Bruce Lee poses.
Back in the day, Hong Kong movies were a hit. Jackie Chan is the shit, but back then, he was the shit-shit-shit. Hong Kong gangsters in long jackets, with slick hair (kind of like yakuza) and denim jackets were idolized by young Asian-Americans. Anything that could make the kids feel like kung-fu fighters, they took on.
My dad's friend from his workplace was once sporting the yakuza look and leading a group of young Asian Americans in committing petty-crimes. I'm not boasting- it sounds silly to me too, since I can't imagine the now silly, middle-aged man to be a rebel at all. He started out by finding a place for young Asian boys who migrated to America, so that they'd have a place to live. They were pretty much orphans in a sense. Anyway, they were always on missions to steal a trunk load of cassettes. (laughs) That's like stealing a trunk load of iPhones or marijuana (drugs weren't as common back then). I'm getting off track: I'm supposed to explain how they always got into fights among other Asian men out of the silly inspiration to be "kung-fu fighters." Yeah, they weren't so bad-ass, but hey, at most, the leader's best friend ended up in prison for killing someone. The guy's still got 25 years to go.
And my uncles and their friends often found themselves in fights with racist folks. Usually, they'd have a pack of little Asian men backing up one Asian man after one, big Caucasian guy starts calling him "gook" and "chink". So it's not exactly a fair fight, but I'm not going there.
Albums are keepsakes that you hold onto, and one day, your kids are going to flip them open, and ask you questions. There's a story behind every photo. Your chance to shine for the next generation to see, is just an album away.
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| My best friend is a girl. We befriended each other in 7th grade, though I've seen her around in Sunday school and elementary school. Now we're both out of high school. We stuck like glue, unlike the other two girls who we were basically best friends with until junior year since 7th grade. I suppose I understood her in ways that others can't, since we both get shy and have low self esteem. She's doing much better than I in terms of socializing, but we both struggle with finding boyfriends. We can talk to each other about anything! She's like family, except we can talk about everything (that's appropriate) without starting a fight. Yep.
I just answered this Featured Question; you can answer it too! | | |
| I want a man who's the polar opposite of me.
He's intelligent. I'm not so intelligent.
He can help me make smart decisions.
And I can help him relax.
He's a realist and a workaholic.
I'm a lazy-ass and a fantasize-er.
We can help balance our lives out. In the name of "Love."
Geek, please, please marry me.
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