Patience

With the ordeal of yesterday tucked behind my back, I find myself struggling with patience of others. I say something and another person, with a rude tone snaps back at me as if I’m stupid.

Sometimes humanity hurts. But I need to remember this girl is insecure, she’s angry about her life and takes it out on others as a means to be the center of attention.

I’m okay with that. But I’m not going to her level.

She knows whenever she is near me I go near mute. She doesn’t know why. My interactions with other people are invigorating and she just dominates and destroys me during a conversation.

I know she’s not jealous of me. But sometimes to get me through the day I pretend she is.

a cafe

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While sitting at a cafe with a friend we noticed all the cute things surrounding us and found a new appreciation for life (also she is a blogger – knowingtakesawhile)

while we were there we admired the snowflakes falling on the ground and smothering the world in beautiful white.

”Animation, the reason why I like snow is because its the carte blanche. It falls so freely and gracefully piling up, creating you. Then somebody comes in and changes you. Sometimes youre changed so much you change colors and forget but in the end youll end up white or just disappearing completely.”

Messages

“Love is just kindness with its working boots on.” –

    The House Bunny

I’ve always been a big reader with a decent memory.
When a situation comes up I’ve been able to recall a quote and instantly a smile spreads through their face like a wildfire and they blush. I wish I was able to spread my words as well and wisely as some authors. Namely Markus Zusak, who is my favorite author.

I’ve read all of his books, once, twice, three times. Hoping that every word stays with me forever and ever and ever and ever. I am jealous of him, but I am thankful for him. As “I am the Messenger” turned out to be a catalyst book for me, it’s aided me in so many projects, including fixing myself.

I am a message.

I am eighteen years old and lived a nomadic life, blessed with two strict, but loving parents, an older sister who is the exact opposite of me, two rambunctious dogs who somehow still love me and a network of friends willing to help me when I fall.

When they fall, I’ve been noticing it myself for: “it is harder to judge yourself than to judge others” (Saint Antoine d’exupery) I can recall words, create my own, and or so many other things that they can smile and laugh and suddenly feel so much better. I feel empowered with words. I feel empowered with the gift of spreading happiness and joy by just being the person God made me to be.

For once, after seeing one of my friends cry. I am thankful for being me. I am thankful for being a message in his life as he was in mine because I believe that:

“Some people are beautiful.
Not in looks.
Not in what they say.
Just in what they are.”

– Markus Zusak

Dubstep violin

I needed a new album to rock out to because as much as I love and adore Kimbra, who I mention quite frequently, her album sounded lonely.

What better way than with a dubstep violin album made by Lindsey Stirling? Honestly, I love the violin, dubstep, not so much but it just sounds so wonderful and the fact she dances with a violin!

At current I’m working on a picture composition of one of her songs, I’ll probably forget to finish it or give up on it and refuse to show anybody about the forlorn project. So actually forget I mentioned it. 🙂

Pass

Walking home today in the chilled October weather, I walked past a house that had a lot of meaning to me. A house whose doors were always open and smiling hearts and warm food awaited.

I was a year younger, dressed in confusion. Newly out of the house with an argument behind me, I stumbled in once and fell in love. I felt like I was finally home after eighteen years of searching.

Well, the family left and the house still stands. I stood before it for a long while, thanking it but also regretting that I spent so much time there when really in my stubbornness, I should have been home with my parents. Talking things out, perhaps the situation I came under would have been easier to deal with.

The wind whipped my hair and chilled my cheeks, the door opened and I was almost happy and a little boy came out and I knew it was time for me to leave.

Skipping stones

My father and I, mother watching warily from a height above us, sat by the riverfront. I watch as the river swells, laughter rises, and beauty both diminishes and is soon replaced by the nighttime sky.

I wait until the sun sets the world on fire. I let this moment drag.

“Dad, I’ve never learned how to skip stones.”

“What kind of childhood have you had?”

A nomadic one, a cultural one, a confusing one thoughts flow into my head.

“The one you gave me.”

He bends down with his aching knees and has a fist full of rocks in his hands. He puts one into my hand and shows me how to throw it as if I’m still a child.

Moments like this make my mothers heart swell and my father regrets momentarily how much of a normal life I’ve never had. Then he laughs about it and realizes he could never change it. I’m eighteen now, I look and act nothing like a normal eighteen year old and that’s what makes me their child.

I continue to skip rocks until the fires dim out and the world is cold and cool again. I listen to the sounds of splashing in the canoes we rode earlier, the chanting of the temple we visited and although so much joy and beauty existed, I found my most favorite part of the journey was skipping stones along the river bank with my father watching the first ripple, create a second ripple, then a third, to sink into the bottom of the bank.

What was, what is, and what will be.

Instruments

I’ve never been a music guru. Being Asian, naturally my parents tried to keep me on one of the three instruments of the Asian world: piano, violin, and flute. I had the piano and I loved it but I was never musically talented, or actually patient. I wanted to immediately play Bach and Beethoven. Instead I got Mozarts small children’s tunes.

After five years of suffering, my parents gave me the reprieve and instantly I began to sing, the very thing they dreaded. I actually was born not to sing, but I convinced myself that I could. I’ll never be great though but I can hold a note and sing in a choir.

I then ventured over to Ocarina (yes, because of The Legend of Zelda) and Ukulele, because that’s where my home home home plays. I just traipsed about for ages trying to find an instrument that I’d love, even trying Trombone.

Watching a concert tonight I realize that I am not musical, and I’ll never have the patience or the drive to be so. I can appreciate it, but I’ll never subject somebody to suffer as I did.

In the meantime: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1yydcG9woWA