Monthly Archives: August 2013

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Speaking vs. Writing.

Does anyone else just absolutely suck at talking? I feel like I’m a pretty good at writing. I love to type, and I love to talk. Well, not necessarily talk, but I always have a lot to say. That’s why I write so much. ANY WHO.

So, my writing and the words that come out of my mouth are definitely different. I like to write because I feel like I don’t sound as dumb compared to when I talk. When I talk- and I’m going to be very stereotypical, so I hope I don’t offend anyone- I sound like a rich, white, Cali-girl.

  • I use the word “like” a lot.
  • I use “uhhh” a lot.
  • I stutter.
  • I get distracted a lot, so my words don’t really flow.
  • I have to repeat the same sentence about 5 times to give myself enough time to think about the next sentence I’m going to say.
  • I sound whiny .-.
  • I get shy and forget my words because I feel like I’m being criticized with every word that leaves my mouth.

Why can’t the way the I speak reflect the way that I write? Maybe I just get nervous when I talk. Maybe I’m too hyper to talk and get too excited and then forget my train of though. My mom swears I have ADHD and so does Boyfriend, but that’s another story.

Point is. I love writing, but I hate talking.

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Getting Rejected.

You ask someone, “will you go out with me?”, “will you be my girlfriend/boyfriend?” and you put your feelings, your heart, and yourself out on the line to either become the happiest person ever or get let down and just fall apart.

You’re waiting in agony for their answer. It’s only one word, but it means everything to you. You’re anxious and you have a shit ton of feelings built up in you that you can’t even express. You’re queasy. You wish you could just read minds.

If they say yes, you’re ecstatic. You jump for joy and you know there’s nothing else that can happen in that moment that will make you any happier. You have the person you can’t stop thinking about, the one you can’t stop dreaming about, calling you theirs, and you finally get to call him/her yours. You can just picture how it’s going to be between you and your now significant other: amazing. You’re just so happy.

Getting rejected is a whole other process, though. Your stomach drops. You’re not the type of person to cry, but for a split second, you feel like you just want to assume fetal position in a corner with a gallon of Ben & Jerry’s with five boxes of tissues. Even if you’re a guy. If she/he actually meant that much to you. Your eyes widen. Your jaw may or may not drop. You can’t believe what you just heard. The heart shattering, the gut wrenching “no”. Some try to fight for a chance, but the many I know just leave in utter disbelief. You actually thought you had a chance. To know that you were fooling yourself the whole time and forcing yourself to believe that they actually liked you… it kills you a little, it does, Your ego dies a bit.

You’re heart broken. Over someone that wasn’t even yours.

It’s easy to be the one doing the rejecting. You’ve lost your feelings already, if there ever were any, and you’ve already moved on and forgotten about them. To be the one getting rejected? Now that’s hard. How are you supposed to forget someone that meant the absolute WORLD to you? I mean, now you know that you don’t have a fighting chance and you have to move on or suffer. When you get rejected, isn’t there always going to be that feeling of “what if” and maybe left over feelings? You never got the chance to see their bad side and make the decision for yourself that you don’t like them anymore. They kind of did that part for you. In your eyes, they’re still perfect, aren’t they?

Will there always be some residual feelings for that person? Do you learn to get over someone that was just so perfect to you and did nothing wrong to make you think otherwise?

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“I’m proud of you”

I would do a lot and go to high extents to hear those words. I never think I’m good enough. So, when I hear those words I just melt. It’s like “I finally made you proud? I’m good enough? Damn. I actually did something worth while, worthy, and important.” When I disappoint someone, which is the opposite of making someone proud of course, it honestly brings tears to my eyes. I don’t know why. I’m a people pleaser and I’m sensitive, that’s probably why. Redemption at that point becomes a goal. It becomes a mission. I need to show whomever I have disappointed that I can do better and I can make them proud of me; that I’m good enough and strong enough. So those words… they mean a lot to me. I cherish the sound of those words directed towards me. It’s amazing to know that I can make someone proud.

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I wish I knew my grandfather.

We were out having dinner – my two uncles, my mom, her boyfriend, and one of my aunts – and they were telling stories about grandpa. Damn. I wish I knew my grandfather. He seems cool as fuck lol he sounded like a really good father, too. I mean, of course he’s a good father; he raised my uncles and my mom. He sounds funny and crazy, but strict and caring. They went from stories where grandpa told them to pick out their own sticks to get hit with to stories where he put toilet paper around his head and pretended like he knew Kung Fu and just ended up busting his head.

It was an amazing time with family listening to stories. Isn’t that always a good time?

And you know, they were saying that him and my grandmother used to go at it all the time, but at the end of the day, they would just laugh and laugh together. I want something like that. I never saw them do that personally, but I can picture it.

I wish I knew my grandfather.

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The anniversary of my grandfather’s death.

The connotation of the word “anniversary” is usually happy. Well, this occasion is anything but happy. I don’t even know why you would think about the anniversary of someone’s death.

Any who, the anniversary of my grandfather’s death is tomorrow. I don’t really cry when I think about it anymore. Well, if I really think about it and think about exactly who I lost and the history and all that, then I do cry. I don’t think that I will cry tomorrow or be a mess. I don’t know if I should feel like a bad person for saying that. I mean, when he died, I watched my mom, my brother, and everyone else in the family cry. I didn’t shed a single tear that day, and whatever tears I did shed came from consecutively yawning 50 times. I cried for the first time when I had to write a poem about him and I realized exactly what he meant to me and the family. If I hear the song “Bye bye” by Mariah Carey I’ll cry.

Am I supposed to cry? Let’s see. I’ve cried 4 times since he’s died. Once writing the poem. The first time hearing that Mariah Carey song, once seeing my mom cry, and then like 2 days ago, but I was crying over something else and then he came to mind, so I was kind of like “okay. I’m already crying. Let’s let out some tears for grandpa”.

It kills me that he loved his grandchildren so damn much, and I don’t cry for him. I know he loved us, and he meant a lot to me. I loved him unconditionally, but honestly, the man spoke another language and didn’t speak a lick of English. I didn’t understand him 99.9% of the time. I felt the love, no doubt, but it’s not like we really connected. That’s why I say I love him unconditionally. He meant a lot to me, but… I don’t know. I don’t love him the way I love my other grandparents. Is that a shit thing to say? Am I being selfish because I let language be a barrier in our relationship? I DON’T FUCKING KNOW. All I know is that I don’t cry as much as I think I’m supposed to. If I’m supposed to, but don’t think that I don’t miss him. I miss him very much.

It’s hard to watch my mom wailing and still so grief stricken. Especially since I’m no good at cheering people up. I really think that when she’s crying we should only comfort her to an extent. I think that if we comfort her too much, then she’ll keep thinking it’s okay to cry. I think that since it’s been two years, it’s okay to let out some tears, but she needs to not cry every day, every night. I probably say that because he wasn’t my dad and I don’t completely understand what she feels. Especially since there were some things she never got to say because he was in Laos when he died.

So, tomorrow will be an emotional day. Can’t wait…