Holy Settlers.

I feel bad for all of you. Every single one of you. And I apologize.

For the past few posts, I've done nothing but ranted on and on about this awfully annoying little love (you can't even call it that, because "love" isn't even involved) story.

But, being the horrid person that I am (I'm sure we've all established that in the last post) this will be another one of those terribly obnoxious rants that I obviously just need to get out of my system. Alright, here we go:

AHHH!!!!!!

Believe it or not, I screamed it just as I typed it. At the top of my lungs.

Why in the world would I do this to myself? I had made up my mind about my ideal man. I had promised myself that whatever life decided to throw at me, I'd handle by NOT being a holy settler.

HOLY SETTLER: One who becomes "religious" due to influence from certain relationships and is a "could have been".

Promise to shoot me if I decide to settle for something. Please.

Never in a million, would I want to take life throws at me because I believe it's the best someone like me is going to get. NO. I want to be able to choose what I believe to be perfection. For me.

There'll be no settling. I refuse.

AHHHHH!!!!!!

More Than We Need, Yet Less Than We Want.

I'm the absolute worst. No doubt about it.

Why can't I just be happy with what I have?

You see, the boy that I was talking about a few days ago is the same boy that broke my friend's heart a few more days ago. "Jake".

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that I wouldn't mind having him all to myself. However, I knew I couldn't because of his very recent issues with "Emma".

So, the feelings I've come to realize that I have had been stuffed in this little corner of my mind. Until, the feelings were returned.

Apparently, one of the reasons he said no was because of me. Great, the whole time I was trying to comfort a girl in need, I was actually the cause of all the pain she felt.

Against my better judgement, a fling has taken place in my life. But now that I have what I wanted, I've realized that I don't want it as much. Don't get me wrong, I still like him, but the fact that I can have him make me not want him as much as I did when he was unattainable.

So far, the "relationship" has been kept under wraps and is great. There's the fabulous physical part, but it doesn't lack a single thing that a friendship should have. We talk about everything that comes to mind, and ask each other ridiculous questions. (I guess I ask a lot of "what if's".) I can tell him just about anything, and he's already told me his biggest secret. And, the silences that happen are perfectly unawkward.

But why oh why doesn't it feel perfect.

What should I do? It's not fair to him that I'm so horrid. It's not his fault that I'm not completely satisfied. It's not going to work, if this can't be fixed.

What should I do? What should I do?

Swear Battle.

Admit it. We all have our downfalls. Our personality flaws.

Most of us try not to overanalyze it, or pretend it's not that. But then there are some that accept it as is.

Until today, that's what I'd done, but I realized that even a simple fault as indecisiveness can lead to much more. For example, a long drawn-out swear battle with oneself.

It was nothing more than a "stay or go" situation. And even that is making it a bigger deal than it actually was.

The waiting I had to go through wasn't all that terrible, but the fact that I was arguing with myself the whole time due to the waiting...unbelievable.

"Would I be a bad person if..."
"But then again, I promised..."
"I know, but how long should I wait..."
"Why can't I just leave, since I've got to..."
"What if I'm the only option..."
"I feel terrible, because..."
"Would I be a bad person if..."

To make matters worse, I blamed myself. Yes, I did.

Now that I think back on it, it wasn't my fault, not in the least bit. If anything, I should have been angry with him. I should be ignoring him for the next two weeks, and then follow that up with a month of evil glaring, finally ending it with a yelling session that'd make him wish he had skipped practice that day.

Too bad he apologized. Too bad I accepted.

Sometimes, I wish I was a bad person.

The End Of The World. Or Something.

Two days ago, I was trapped.

Trapped in a room with two great friends. Horrible, right?

Actually, it was. You see one was a girl, and the other was a boy. Need I say more?

Let's call the girl "Emma" and the boy "Jake". And this is how the story went:

Emma is a friend of mine. Jake recently became one too. Emma and Jake quickly became friends. One day, Emma happened to tell me a "joke" that got me thinking. When confronted, the truth was told: Emma liked Jake, quite a bit more than expected, actually. Needless to say, Jake was oblivious. Wanting to be a good friend to both of them, I kept my mouth shut, refusing to "get involved". It was all fun and games, until one day, Emma slipped up. Jake ignoring the "what you don't know won't hurt you" looks I kept shooting him, digged deeper, wanting the truth behind the giggles.
Soon, the scene changed. Emma was sobbing her heart out. Jake didn't know what to do with all the guilt. And I was trapped.
I couldn't leave. So, I wrapped my arms around Emma and gave her a shoulder to cry on. All the while, looking at Jake behind her, mouthing to him,"It's okay, it's not your fault."

How do you convince a seventeen-year-old girl who had her heart broken four times in the last six months that it wasn't the end of the world? That she wasn't hopeless? That things will work out for her? That poor Jake wasn't trying to break her heart? How do I tell her any of this without mentioning her tendency to wear her heart on her sleeve? Without hinting at the way she gets too emotionally involved before she should? Without telling her that the awful pain she felt was more of her doing that that of the boy she blamed?

I didn't.

I couldn't look at the mascara streaking down her face and that sparkle in her eye dim just a little and tell her all those things.

So, I let her sob. Telling her that things will get better. That it just wasn't right. That she will find the right one. That when she does, it will be absolutely perfect. That the pain she feels will be gone. That things will be okay.

What the girl really wanted to hear is,"You deserve better". I could tell that Emma was waiting for me to say those words, to convince her with those words. But, I didn't.

It wouldn't have been fair to Jake. Jake, who wanted to punch himself in the face. Who wanted to return the feelings that he didn't have. Who couldn't do anything about what was happening. Who couldn't comfort a friend he unintentionally hurt. Who just wanted to be true to himself. Who was also my friend.

He was a great guy. Any girl would be lucky to have him. I didn't want to put him any lower than he already felt. He didn't deserve it.

After doing all that I could, I suggested that we all go home and just take a breather.

The day after, things had changed. The air was tense, the smiles were fake, and the laughter sounded bitter. The friendship was tremendously weakened.

I had done all I could, yet it seemed like nothing at all.

...

And people wonder why I have Philophobia.

Call Me Stupid, Call Me Lame.

Being passive sucks.

All day, I've been becoming aware of the existence of this feeling. A feeling for a boy.

Yah, one of those horrid things. Too bad I spent five hours with him and couldn't get any of it out.

It wasn't as if we weren't alone. It wasn't as if I would have made a fool of myself in front of anyone. It wasn't as if we weren't in the mood for confessions.

But no, I didn't utter a word. Call me stupid, call me lame. Please.

Life is supposed to be too short to not do what you want, to not express how you feel. Right?

I've given that advice to so many people in the past month, yet I can't seem to act upon it myself. But maybe it was for the best.

Maybe the feeling wasn't even there.
Maybe I was imagining it all.
Maybe I did what was right.
Maybe it was best left unsaid.

Maybe. Hopefully.

I thought I wanted to talk about it, but now, I guess not.

So, sorry to bother you.

My Own Personal Peephole.

It's only 1:39 PM, and yet, I feel like today's been long enough.

I went to our state's largest waterpark two days ago, and have been tired ever since.

Well, actually, it's only been my eyes. I wore my contacts underwater, and they seemed fine at the time, but now, my eyes look nasty bloodshot. Even though I've been asleep for 20 of the past 24 hours.

So now, Mommy's convinced my eyes will be the death of me if I don't wear my glasses for a few days. And, because I feel terrible for making her all crazy with worry,my brown framed glasses are sitting on the bridge of my nose, framing everything I see.

My hesistation to wearing glasses isn't because they make me look like the nerd I really am, it's actually due to the fact that my head feels like it's being covered by a box and my eyes are being forced to look out of a little window someone carved for my eyes to look through. You know, one of those peepholes?

The peephole sort of stays in one place, so if I want to look at something to my right, I've got to turn the box (my head) and look to my right. Although you're probably thinking with as much sarcasm as you can muster, "Turning your head, how difficult...", I'll have you know that it is absolutely one of the most bothersome tasks to ever be assigned.

Contacts are, hands down, towards the tip-top of my Best Inventions Ever list. Without them...well, I wouldn't even want to think about a world without contacts.

So, thank you contacts, for existing.

I Like Fluff.

Fluff. I like fluff.

Apparently.

The Twilight Saga, by Stephanie Meyer, is amazing. As you read the books, it feels real. It feels like you're reading this incredibly intense book full of non-stop action and deep thoughts. As you get closer to the last words on the last page of the last book, you feel as if the ultimate climax of this story would be the end, the last few paragraphs. Then as you close the book, you feel happy, as if you accomplished a great deal.

But then, the morning after hits.

All those words you read, all that intensity, all the promises made by the characters, all the lessons you've been taught by the book....turns out to be nothing more than fluff.

Fluff? You know, fluff. The kind that isn't all that significant. The kind that's used to stick in between the really important parts. The kind that you aren't supposed to like and just leave behind in the dust. That kind of fluff.

Doesn't it seem weird then, that I read four whole books of fluff...and absolutely loved it?

When I sat down and thought over everything, the book seemed to be filled with nothing but a simple love story. The plot wasn't phenomenal. The writing wasn't unbelievably great. The characters seemed more like charactures. And yet, somehow, I couldn't seem to get enough of the books.

The fluffy books.

It's a weird feeling, finding out you like fluff.

But not a bad one.

Home Sweet Home.

It's been a while, hasn't it? Not too long, I hope.

Since the 2008 Olympic Games have officially started, I haven't had a chance to think about much else, being Chinese and all.

Having been living in the United States since the age of seven doesn't necessarily make me feel more American than Chinese. Prior to the absolutely spectacular Opening Ceremony of the Olympic Games, I was having trouble picking a team to stand behind. A team to yell for when it does well. Should I pick China, because I've got Chinese blood running through my Chinese veins? But would it be unfair to not pick the U.S., since I've been accepted into the Melting Pot, and lived in it for the majority of my life?

At the beginning of June, this teeter-totter was leaning towards the U.S., though I wasn't too conscious of it at the time. However, 2008 also happened to be the year that I was going back to visit my birth country. The first time in ten years.
...
Ten years ago, I would spend my days in a group of five. We were basically a packaged deal, but each with our own distinct personalities.

At nine-years-old and towering above everyone else, LuLu was the definite leader. She was two years older than the next in line (me) and was always given the money when the five of us wanted to get ice cream at the ice cream stand on the corner.

Like I said, then there was me. Seven-years-old, and an absolute bully. Though, you wouldn't think so by looking at me: a terribly skinny kid with a rather large-looking head. Kind of like a lollipop, actually. Although I was a bully, according to my beloved uncle, I was one that always dressed her best.

Then you get the Terrible Trio: Jason, Adam, and Jimmy. All six-years-old.

Jason: The mini-leader of the mini-group(by escaping the womb a bit earlier than the others), was LuLu's younger brother. He seemed to be the one that always missed out when something was about to happen. Also the one who played it safe, Jason escaped with no major childhood accident (unlike the rest of us).

Adam: He was a quiet one, but also my maternal grandpa's only grandson that's carrying his family name. The passive aggressive one that I bullied beyond reason. Not to mention the one I hung out with more than the rest. If he was playing with a toy, any toy, I'd take it from him. Whether I cared to have it for myself or not.

Jimmy: An absolute cry-baby, that's for sure. But, also my absolute favorite third of the Terrible Trio. He cried for the fun of it, I swear. A day wouldn't pass when something didn't make him cry. However, that something was never me. I favorited the little boy, and put my bullying skills to use when necessary for him.

So there you have it. Us.
...
Fast-forward ten years and you've reached the present. Nine, seven, and six-year-olds shot up to nineteen, seventeen and sixteen-year olds. Although the rest of them had all been together the last ten years, I had left.

As excited as I was to go back, I didn't think that I'd be able to renew my membership to this private club. Things had changed just too much.

Right, as if. Sure the first couple days were hard, and it wasn't like anyone really recognized me, but in a flash, we all were sent on a trip back in time. With a twist, of course.

Almost everyone was taller than LuLu now. Jason seemed to be present at all events. Adam was the loudest (next to me) of the bunch. And Jimmy, the little cry-baby, became a lean mean fighting machine. Alright, not mean. But with a six-pack and more, Jimmy practices his Karate everyday.

Me, I haven't changed that much. I could still make them do anything I wanted, needing no more than a pout. :]
...
I guess that was how I came to realize that your home is your home. No matter how long you've been away for, it'll always be there, just waiting for you to come back.

So, China. I picked China.

There aren't words to explain the swell I felt in my chest when the Chinese team finally stepped out during the Opening Ceremony.

If there was ever a moment when I wasn't proud to be Chinese.

I take it back.

I'll Learn The Hard Way, Thanks.

Ever had the feeling that you needed a break?

Not the kind of break that would get you away from one bundle of problems just so you can throw yourself into another. No, this break would be one from life. Just a temporary pause on the world around you while you went about and took a few deep breaths.

I could go for one of those.

Today, apparently, had been unofficially dedicated to me reading out of "Cracking the SAT". Don't get me wrong, it's actually pretty easily readable. However, if there's anyone in the world who'd like to spend ten hours being told by black ink on recycled paper about how a theoretical student named Joe Bloggs would take the SAT, I'd consider never drinking tea again.

School has always been important to me. Academic excellence is what I'm known for. However, I've never worked hard at it, you know, just went along with the flow. Sure, that may not seem fair to the rest of the world, but then nothing ever is.

Loving parents. They say they understand. Even went along with the non-existence of studying just as long as Straight A's were brought home.

But, for some mind-blowingly important reason, they just won't let me get away with anti-prep attitude for the SAT.

I know they love me and think it's for my best, but seriously.

Piss off.

Force-less.

I'm not going to lie.

Today's blog doesn't feel so easy to type. There isn't a voice in my mind that is just wanting to say something. There's no rant that's trying to break free. What happens now?

My fingers are pausing on the keys, not too sure what letter to push next. There's no force guiding them. Not really.

...

So, thinking that it had to do with my lack of tea, I went to got myself some.

It wasn't like I didn't want tea before. I just couldn't find any tea leaves. You see, Mommy buys the tea, and then puts some in a tin cup for me so whenever I want some tea, I'd just go looking for that little green cup. What happened today, had only ever happened once before, and that was me running out of tea leaves before she had a chance to refill.

But, thankfully, after I dragged her away from her busy-ness, tea came running my way.

As much as I'd like to chat, I've got tea waiting for me.

So Much More.

Oh boy. Guess what came in the mail? The proofs to my senior portraits!

...

Think back to the days of your childhood and how you literally counted down the days until your birthday. It wasn't just the presents, or just the cake, or just the party that you invited everyone in you grade to. No, it was so much more.

It was the way that all you friends treated you extra nice that day. They let you play all the games you wanted to play during recess. At lunch, you were offered the best of their treats: chocolate chip cookie, banana bread, double fudge brownie, your favorite cupcake, peanut butter bar, a whole stack of Oreos...

It was the way that your parents seemed to love you extra much that day. You weren't woken until noon, and when you did awake all on your own, there was a breakfast in bed waiting. Daddy took you for a ride in the car, anywhere you wanted. Secret plans were made that breakfast, lunch, and dinner consisted of nothing but your favorite foods.

As you can remember (or imagine), the suspense a child builds up for that Special Day is...unbelievable.

Senior portraits aren't so different.

It's your last year in high school, and most kids want, almost need, their senior portraits to the absolute best of themselves anyone in the school has ever seen. You know, the perfect lasting impression before we're all going where we want to be, not living in a place that our parents settled for.

Not that I know where exactly I'm going with this shpeel, but you know, just saying.

I guess I just wanted to express how excited I am that I finally got them.

That's all. :]

Coffee vs Tea.

Sleep. I could use sleep. Just a few more hours. I promise.

Ugh, being awoken at 9:15 AM after going to bed at 4:00 AM seems to have topped my "Things I Never Want To Do Again" list. Thanks to the two months of summery bliss, I've been expecting a perfect morning, every morning.

Don't get me wrong, today is definitely closer to perfection than most. As I'm looking out the window, I'm nearly blinded by the almost-too-sunny sunshine. There's a small breeze in the air, ruffling the leaves of the trees in my front yard. The grass seems unbelievably green, almost a scarily healthy green. There's not the rumble of a car within hearing distance and I can even make out sounds of the omnipresent obliviously happy birds chirping in the woods behind my house.

...

Oh, how lovely! Mommy decided to bring me a cup of tea, knowing my head's been pounding due to the lack of my favorite liquidy substance.

Weird, isn't it? Tea is my savior, yet it seems to have been somehow outdone by it's competition: coffee. As much as I love tea, I decided to name this blog "Coffee Break". I wonder why...

Having just taken a sip, I re-realized my love of tea for the billionth time. It's fabulous. Simply is.
Coffee is pretty darn spectacular, too. Well, not real coffee I suppose, just, the...girly kind. You know, the sweetened cappucinos, the frappacinos that could pass of as coffee ice cream, not to mention the mochas and lattes that are 99.9% sugar and cream, you get the picture.

Coffee. Tea. Tea. Coffee.

What would you pick?

Green Walls And Pink Floors.

It's only been half an hour since my first blog. Is it normal to be writing a second one so quickly?

Already, I feel like I'm doing this all wrong. A blog a day, right?

Hmm..."right". Recently, my subconscious mind has informed my conscious one that I really do care about what others think. I know, I know, absolutely shocking. Self-consciousness is quite the rare disorder to happen upon a teenage girl. Let me clarify. It's not the kind that swallows you up until you're nothing more than a sponge, sucking in everything around you to fill your holes. No, it's the kind that most people (I'd assume) have.

Not such a big deal, right? Right. No, wrong. Well, it depends.

To me, a person who's lived all her life wanting to be the girl that stands out from the crowd, it is a rather big deal. Humongous, actually.

It's like when you've been climbing this mountain all your life, feeling like you're closing in on the tip-top with every step you take, and suddenly, you realize that you've been climbing...in place. No matter what you do, you can't seem to move beyond those two footprints in the mud.

...

Oh lord. Have I ever sounded more like a person whose depression is getting worse by the blog? No, probably not.

Believe it or not, I'm a relatively happy person. I'm the kind of person you'd find dancing in the cereal aisle when a good song comes on and I think no one's looking. I'm be the happy dwarf in Snow White. My room has bright green walls and pink carpeting (by choice). I belt out old Chinese songs with my daddy on a daily basis. I'm the annoyingly happy person with an actual skip in her everyday step.

How in the world did I manage to sound like THAT?

Who knows?

Maybe it's the fact that it's 1:44 AM. Or maybe it's the 23rd cup of tea I'm gulping down. But I bet it's the fact that I've got to use the bathroom.

Having a full bladder has this weird way of changing a person. But, we'll save that interesting thought for another time.

In the mean time, I think I'll get some more tea ready and crawl into bed with "Breaking Dawn", Moo-Moo and an empty bladder.

Mountain-climbing will just have to wait another night.

Her "Thing". His "Thing". My "Thing".

Significant. That's how I'd classify today. Well, at least the last five seconds or so.

Never in a megabajillion years, would I have thought I would give in and enter the world of blogging, but hey, it was bound to happen some time. Right?

To tell you the truth, I felt somehow tricked into it. I mean, I was on a quick tour of the site when all the green "next" buttons suddenly turned orange on me. Now that I think about it, aside from the two seconds that it took me to push the little orange "create a blog" button, the significance level of today was actually pretty low. Well, when the new screen popped up, asking for my information, I caved. Blogging might just be my "thing".

You know, the "thing". Everyone has one. Her "thing" is successfully explaining calculus to a room full of monkeys. His "thing" is scoring the winning point at the last possible second. My "thing" is...well, yet to be determined.

So, today just could turn out significant.

We'll see.