Talking to A- and subsequently rereading a lot of what I've written on here over the years has made me realize I've gotten complacent with documenting my introspection. I realized I see some of the old stuff I wrote in new light even if I felt like I had a lot of clarity at the time of writing (after all, I had to have some clarity to articulate it in the first place). It's nice to look back on your thoughts once you're removed from the emotions and circumstances that evoked them.
I want to get back into the habit of writing on here. Tonight is not the night to start up again, and to be honest I don't know if I can guarantee consistency and regularity, but I will try.
Since it's the middle of finals, I don't have time to write at length, so I will instead just leave this here. It's a poem I wrote dedicated to my mom that I performed at SWC's (un)filtered, an event with the central theme of gender and sexual violence. I'm still looking for the courage and the method to share it with my mom. (Thanks G- for your support in making this happen)
Figures
Hey there, little boy
I’m worried about you.
I’m worried about you because you have big dreams
Big, like the airplanes you see in the sky,
That someday, you hope to build and to fly
Big, like the bank account you want to have
Six figures a year to buy glamour and pizzazz
But wait
There’s another figure I know you want
A woman’s body, to have and to flaunt
A body with which to make a child
Or maybe two, at the same time.
A child you can then lift on your broad shoulders
Because I know, little boy, you dream of getting big muscles
Well you’ve made it Daddy.
Those dreams have come true.
But the thing about big dreams is that you forget about the little things
Because you’ve got your head so high in the clouds that it clouds your judgment.
Look Dad,
Can’t you see? Your sea of money
Can’t drown the sound of beer bottles falling by Mom’s bed
Can’t wash away the memory of my twin sister sobbing in my head
And it sure as hell won’t wash away the red
From your hands or your face
The red of the lipstick that marks your disgrace
So stop trying to buy our favor
And you call yourself a father figure.
Go figure.
Because have you considered
That while you’re out there chasing your dreams
Mom’s at home chasing drink after drink
Have you considered
That while you’re out there pursuing womanly perfection,
Looking for the some action to tame your erection
Because you’ve lost all attraction to my mother
My mother who has never stopped showing you affection,
My mother who’s committed no infraction to deserve your rejection
Because her only flaw is the scar she got when she gave birth to your twin son and daughter by c-section.
Have you considered
That there’s much more to a woman than her bodily complexion?
If you don’t think people can love people who are flawed
What makes you think you deserve to be loved at all?
Showing posts with label mom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mom. Show all posts
Thursday, June 2, 2016
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
First New Year's Resolution ever, 1 month in.
I'm not a big fan of New Year's resolutions. I feel like if at any point I find something I want to change about myself, I don't want to wait until New Year's to make it happen. As such, I haven't made many New Year's resolutions to date.
However, I did make one resolution this year.
Resolution 2015: Get my shit together.
Quality resolution, isn't it?
My goal by the end of college was to figure out what I want to do with my life (career-wise, personal life, etc.). I didn't expect to have made progress towards whatever that ends up looking like, but I at least wanted to know what direction I was going in.
I realized just before winter break that I'm lucky enough to be in a place where I have a strong sense of purpose in my life, and that's something many people of my age cannot say for themselves. In particular, I want to spend my life making people happy and improving their quality of life, but in a very surefire way. I don't mean some wishy-washy social committee-type thing. I mean scientifically rigorously looking at ways that people can attain greater fulfillment and satisfaction. I want to engineer happiness.
Even though that's still very big picture and doesn't offer much granularity, it serves as a pretty good guide for my decision-making. In fact, in the long run, it is much better to have this top piece (the why) and be able to go top-down in figuring out what I want to do rather than having a sense of what I like to do/am good at/am competent at without knowing why I continue to do it.
So why do I feel like I'm stuck and moving so slowly? Why do I feel like I'm wasting a lot of time? Why do I not feel like I have my shit together?
I spent winter break trying to figure out why this is, and I identified a couple of general things I need to do.
1) Know when to fold.
I am incredibly susceptible to the sunk cost fallacy. I place weight on past effort expended or invested in a particular activity, class, or person, but that's a naive basis to make future decisions. I get deeply attached to a lot of things. In C-'s words: just like a poker player doesn't expect to win every hand and instead must choose to commit to hands wisely, so must we be cognizant of when certain decisions didn't play out like anticipated and be willing to cut losses and prepare for other decisions we make going forward.
More concretely, this has led me to readily drop classes I attended for two and a half weeks before realizing it's not for me. I've started putting distance between me and the Stanford Robotics Club because it simply wasn't making me happy, despite what I've dedicated to founding the club and keeping it running smoothly. I've stopped watching TV shows that I no longer enoyed in later seasons. I've stopped investing time in people I don't believe care about me in the same way. I've halted job interview processes when it becomes clear that I don't want to work there, even if I was never rejected as a candidate.
This doesn't mean truths in the past were any less true. I am not any less authentic because what motivates me now differs from what once did. The past can (and should) still shape me. Past values matter insofar as how they inform or influence my current beliefs and values.
2) Commit wholeheartedly when you commit.
This is sort of the opposite of knowing when to fold. For the vast majority of choices I make, I will not have absolute certainty about at the time that I make the decision nor ever. If I wanted to wait until I had certainty on anything, I'd be completely paralyzed. Waiting for certainty is precisely that: a wait. It's passive, and relinquishes control to forces beyond our control.
That complacency leads to inaction and general sluggishness. When you have an array of good choices in front of you, and you (and the people who know and care about you) cannot determine which is the correct or best choice, chances are there isn't a best choice. Have some confidence that you'd be able to identify an obvious best choice. Instead, it's all about picking one and making it great.
(Caveat: in poker, bets are rarely just a matter of going all-in and not at all. Similarly, committing wholeheartedly doesn't necessarily mean rule everything else out, but it does mean taking ownership of whatever extent of commitment you make in any given distribution of commitment of resources. I feel like blogging has that effect for me, where by having them written down somewhere it gives my thoughts much more substance, and helps me commit and take ownership of change I want to see in myself.)
3) Do not let myself slip into negative self-fulfilling prophecies and exacerbation cycles.
Over break I noticed that 1/13 marked the day that I've been out of my relationship with E- longer than I had been in it (barring some technicalities in counting). I think I've figured out what was holding me back from moving on: I have this flawed model of how what is meaningful or important to me is allowed to change over time. If you imagine a graph of time vs. importance, I've only allowed myself to say that how important any given thing is always monotonically increasing or decreasing.
This model is problematic in three ways. One, it assumes my assessment is perfect, which it is not. It doesn't not allow me the opportunity to revise first impressions once they're on track to be monotonically increasing or decreasing. Secondly, my assessment has nothing to do with a reciprocal such assessment, and reciprocity (as my own psychology research has shown, hah.) plays a huge role in determining socializing or altruistic behavior. Thirdly, it means that anything that grows in importance to me can never be less important ever. In particular, this third piece has left me feeling suffocated by guilt, unable to accept that someone I have cared for deeply in the past can acceptably be cared for less, and unable to bear the pain of being less important than I once was to someone.
Borrowing from romcoms, I've realized why it is so important to commit wholeheartedly to something. Romcom protagonists often seem absurd because they go to ridiculous lengths in their unconditional love. Sure, it's not a guarantee that all of your wholehearted commitments will pay off the way every single romcom protagonists' seem to. But the reality is that you cannot have those romcom moments if you don't try. If you fail, then you are just someone whose grandiose whathaveyou did not bear fruit, as everyone would expect; if you succeed, then you do become the stuff of legends/Hollywood. Seems like a reasonably good risk-reward to take to me.
Aside: To some extent, being able to take that stance comes from a place of privilege in more ways than one. I can't deny that. I was raised by a mother who has left me with a secure enough (though not 100% secure) attachment style that I can withstand potential emotional setbacks if putting myself out there and making myself vulnerable leads to hurt. I happen to have skill sets that employers are willing to pay good money for, and that gives me the financial means to be fairly liberal in the capacity in which I commit to things wholeheartedly. It is a privilege I have, and, equal or not across everyone, I should use this to the best of my ability.
Romcom protagonists--at least in their moments of emotional triumph, anyway--tend to have very short-term memory for the setbacks they encounter while maintaining saliency in memories of elation or happiness. For the same magnitude of positive and negative emotions, the positive emotions always last much longer while negative emotions become transformative forces from which they draw strength and courage and spunk. This kind of mindset keeps them optimistic and protects them from negative self-fulfilling prophecies. The best way to make your life a real romcom, it seems, is to believe and live as if it already is. If you feel like the world is falling apart around you, just think to yourself that romcoms virtually all have happy endings, so you can't be at the end. Keep looking for the next thread of storyline to chase.
------------------
What am I trying to do more to be consistent with those 3 things above, aka getting my shit together?
1. Read more, especially stuff that makes me think. The more thoughtfully I can think about my own actions and the people and world around me, the better I can fold or commit appropriately.
2. Be open about myself. I've been trying to make myself vulnerable to people again, mainly in the form of demonstrating how much I care about them even if I feel silly or uneasy or unsure how they'll receive my expression. In professional contexts, I've made a personal website that attempts to inject my character and personality into what otherwise would be just a distilled professional profile (i.e. resume) (I say "attempts" because it's a work in progress, and would love to hear your thoughts on the website).
3. Disregarding norms or rules when I see fit. I've always trusted my judgment, but I've often acted against my best judgment to be consistent with norms or rules. I've been trying to be very clear to myself what it is that I actually want, as opposed to stuff I want to want only because there is some level of external social, financial, or whatever prestige associated with getting that.
4a. Stand up for myself. Give myself space and alone time when I need it. Act on what is important to me, rather than what will maintain peace and harmony among the people around me. Be able to recognize when I have every right to believe that I am right.
4b. Be humble. Confidence and self-assurance is good, but over-confidence is not. Being mindful of when what I have once stood up for is flawed, and graciously and openmindedly reconciling the differences when appropriate.
However, I did make one resolution this year.
Resolution 2015: Get my shit together.
Quality resolution, isn't it?
My goal by the end of college was to figure out what I want to do with my life (career-wise, personal life, etc.). I didn't expect to have made progress towards whatever that ends up looking like, but I at least wanted to know what direction I was going in.
I realized just before winter break that I'm lucky enough to be in a place where I have a strong sense of purpose in my life, and that's something many people of my age cannot say for themselves. In particular, I want to spend my life making people happy and improving their quality of life, but in a very surefire way. I don't mean some wishy-washy social committee-type thing. I mean scientifically rigorously looking at ways that people can attain greater fulfillment and satisfaction. I want to engineer happiness.
Even though that's still very big picture and doesn't offer much granularity, it serves as a pretty good guide for my decision-making. In fact, in the long run, it is much better to have this top piece (the why) and be able to go top-down in figuring out what I want to do rather than having a sense of what I like to do/am good at/am competent at without knowing why I continue to do it.
So why do I feel like I'm stuck and moving so slowly? Why do I feel like I'm wasting a lot of time? Why do I not feel like I have my shit together?
I spent winter break trying to figure out why this is, and I identified a couple of general things I need to do.
1) Know when to fold.
I am incredibly susceptible to the sunk cost fallacy. I place weight on past effort expended or invested in a particular activity, class, or person, but that's a naive basis to make future decisions. I get deeply attached to a lot of things. In C-'s words: just like a poker player doesn't expect to win every hand and instead must choose to commit to hands wisely, so must we be cognizant of when certain decisions didn't play out like anticipated and be willing to cut losses and prepare for other decisions we make going forward.
More concretely, this has led me to readily drop classes I attended for two and a half weeks before realizing it's not for me. I've started putting distance between me and the Stanford Robotics Club because it simply wasn't making me happy, despite what I've dedicated to founding the club and keeping it running smoothly. I've stopped watching TV shows that I no longer enoyed in later seasons. I've stopped investing time in people I don't believe care about me in the same way. I've halted job interview processes when it becomes clear that I don't want to work there, even if I was never rejected as a candidate.
This doesn't mean truths in the past were any less true. I am not any less authentic because what motivates me now differs from what once did. The past can (and should) still shape me. Past values matter insofar as how they inform or influence my current beliefs and values.
2) Commit wholeheartedly when you commit.
This is sort of the opposite of knowing when to fold. For the vast majority of choices I make, I will not have absolute certainty about at the time that I make the decision nor ever. If I wanted to wait until I had certainty on anything, I'd be completely paralyzed. Waiting for certainty is precisely that: a wait. It's passive, and relinquishes control to forces beyond our control.
That complacency leads to inaction and general sluggishness. When you have an array of good choices in front of you, and you (and the people who know and care about you) cannot determine which is the correct or best choice, chances are there isn't a best choice. Have some confidence that you'd be able to identify an obvious best choice. Instead, it's all about picking one and making it great.
(Caveat: in poker, bets are rarely just a matter of going all-in and not at all. Similarly, committing wholeheartedly doesn't necessarily mean rule everything else out, but it does mean taking ownership of whatever extent of commitment you make in any given distribution of commitment of resources. I feel like blogging has that effect for me, where by having them written down somewhere it gives my thoughts much more substance, and helps me commit and take ownership of change I want to see in myself.)
3) Do not let myself slip into negative self-fulfilling prophecies and exacerbation cycles.
Over break I noticed that 1/13 marked the day that I've been out of my relationship with E- longer than I had been in it (barring some technicalities in counting). I think I've figured out what was holding me back from moving on: I have this flawed model of how what is meaningful or important to me is allowed to change over time. If you imagine a graph of time vs. importance, I've only allowed myself to say that how important any given thing is always monotonically increasing or decreasing.
This model is problematic in three ways. One, it assumes my assessment is perfect, which it is not. It doesn't not allow me the opportunity to revise first impressions once they're on track to be monotonically increasing or decreasing. Secondly, my assessment has nothing to do with a reciprocal such assessment, and reciprocity (as my own psychology research has shown, hah.) plays a huge role in determining socializing or altruistic behavior. Thirdly, it means that anything that grows in importance to me can never be less important ever. In particular, this third piece has left me feeling suffocated by guilt, unable to accept that someone I have cared for deeply in the past can acceptably be cared for less, and unable to bear the pain of being less important than I once was to someone.
Borrowing from romcoms, I've realized why it is so important to commit wholeheartedly to something. Romcom protagonists often seem absurd because they go to ridiculous lengths in their unconditional love. Sure, it's not a guarantee that all of your wholehearted commitments will pay off the way every single romcom protagonists' seem to. But the reality is that you cannot have those romcom moments if you don't try. If you fail, then you are just someone whose grandiose whathaveyou did not bear fruit, as everyone would expect; if you succeed, then you do become the stuff of legends/Hollywood. Seems like a reasonably good risk-reward to take to me.
Aside: To some extent, being able to take that stance comes from a place of privilege in more ways than one. I can't deny that. I was raised by a mother who has left me with a secure enough (though not 100% secure) attachment style that I can withstand potential emotional setbacks if putting myself out there and making myself vulnerable leads to hurt. I happen to have skill sets that employers are willing to pay good money for, and that gives me the financial means to be fairly liberal in the capacity in which I commit to things wholeheartedly. It is a privilege I have, and, equal or not across everyone, I should use this to the best of my ability.
Romcom protagonists--at least in their moments of emotional triumph, anyway--tend to have very short-term memory for the setbacks they encounter while maintaining saliency in memories of elation or happiness. For the same magnitude of positive and negative emotions, the positive emotions always last much longer while negative emotions become transformative forces from which they draw strength and courage and spunk. This kind of mindset keeps them optimistic and protects them from negative self-fulfilling prophecies. The best way to make your life a real romcom, it seems, is to believe and live as if it already is. If you feel like the world is falling apart around you, just think to yourself that romcoms virtually all have happy endings, so you can't be at the end. Keep looking for the next thread of storyline to chase.
------------------
What am I trying to do more to be consistent with those 3 things above, aka getting my shit together?
1. Read more, especially stuff that makes me think. The more thoughtfully I can think about my own actions and the people and world around me, the better I can fold or commit appropriately.
2. Be open about myself. I've been trying to make myself vulnerable to people again, mainly in the form of demonstrating how much I care about them even if I feel silly or uneasy or unsure how they'll receive my expression. In professional contexts, I've made a personal website that attempts to inject my character and personality into what otherwise would be just a distilled professional profile (i.e. resume) (I say "attempts" because it's a work in progress, and would love to hear your thoughts on the website).
3. Disregarding norms or rules when I see fit. I've always trusted my judgment, but I've often acted against my best judgment to be consistent with norms or rules. I've been trying to be very clear to myself what it is that I actually want, as opposed to stuff I want to want only because there is some level of external social, financial, or whatever prestige associated with getting that.
4a. Stand up for myself. Give myself space and alone time when I need it. Act on what is important to me, rather than what will maintain peace and harmony among the people around me. Be able to recognize when I have every right to believe that I am right.
4b. Be humble. Confidence and self-assurance is good, but over-confidence is not. Being mindful of when what I have once stood up for is flawed, and graciously and openmindedly reconciling the differences when appropriate.
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Revisiting Drinking
These thoughts have been brewing in my mind (pun intended) for a week or so, but only now did I find the time to sit down and think through it.
I was trying to pinpoint my aversion to drinking. Throughout my childhood, my parents have, with some regularity, consumed alcohol in the form of wine or champagne. During high school, they had taken up more "American" forms of alcohol too: beer, off-the-shelf, hard fruity beverages. In other words, aversion to alcohol has not been something that has been instilled in me throughout my childhood.
My aversion to alcohol was primarily by conscious choice (as opposed to habit, learned values, or conditioned). In the last two years, I saw my mom resorting to alcohol to deal with her problems, and I told myself I did not want to turn to alcohol to solve any problems I might encounter.
Of course, it's also illegal at my current age. By my judgement, Stanford law enforcement (whether in the form of adults in the dorm, i.e. RFs, or actual on-campus sheriffs) are fairly relaxed about drinking law. Obviously, if you get transported or get a DUI/BUI/public drunkenness citation, it'll still go your record. This got me to thinking: what is the real reason why alcohol is illegal?
As far as I can tell, the intent of minimum age drinking (as well as any other drugs, like nicotine for instance) laws is to prevent irresponsible substance use. The fact that Stanford is so lax about these laws in casual environments (within dorms during parties and whatnot), and actually has programming that do not strictly discourage people from drinking (i.e. encourages people, if they choose to drink, to stay within the "social zone") seems to imply that they are confident in Stanford students' ability to make responsible decisions for themselves.
Indeed, over the weeks here I am realizing I am far more responsible than I gave myself credit for. It helped that last week a lot of the people I consider my role models and relate heavily to demonstrated (not intentionally to me in particular) that they were able to let loose without going overboard. The one time last quarter that I first consumed alcohol by choice did not propel me into a downward spiral of alcohol consumption. In addition, I think as strong a reason as not wanting to actually be irresponsible was the desire not to even possibly have an image of being irresponsible. Because alcohol is so commonly portrayed as (and at times is) the cause of crazy, irresponsible behavior, I did not want anyone to be thought of one of "those" college students.
What does this mean? It means I'm at this conflicted crossroads. I am becoming more comfortable with the idea of drinking because 1) I am feeling increased certainty that I won't adopt behavior similar to what my mom did (and she's getting better herself, so that helps), 2) some of the people I look up to the most and whose quality of character I consider admirable, respectable, and strive to embody myself are able to fit alcohol consumption into their lifestyle (the phrasing of this meaning to suggest that responsible alcohol consumption would not inhibit my ability to be the kind of person I want to be, rather than that I strive to be someone whose quality of character includes alcohol consumption), and 3) it simply felt good being less tightly-strung and feeling my muscles and emotion unwind with small quantities of alcohol.
When I look at that list, all of them are personal reasons. I've always been good at staying true to my own values and being outspoken about things I believe in. None of those reasons are a contradiction to my beliefs (e.g. out of peer pressure); instead, my reconsideration of the topic is due to a fundamental shift in my beliefs.
At the same time, a lot of the friends I'm closest to don't drink, and we got close because on weekends we seek non-alcoholic forms of recreation, etc. Will drinking ruin these friendships, and if so will the friendships I forge with other measured, responsible drinkers (which I am confident I can distinguish from irresponsible drinkers, and proceed to surround myself with) be worth the demise of these older friendships?
Honestly do not know.
I was trying to pinpoint my aversion to drinking. Throughout my childhood, my parents have, with some regularity, consumed alcohol in the form of wine or champagne. During high school, they had taken up more "American" forms of alcohol too: beer, off-the-shelf, hard fruity beverages. In other words, aversion to alcohol has not been something that has been instilled in me throughout my childhood.
My aversion to alcohol was primarily by conscious choice (as opposed to habit, learned values, or conditioned). In the last two years, I saw my mom resorting to alcohol to deal with her problems, and I told myself I did not want to turn to alcohol to solve any problems I might encounter.
Of course, it's also illegal at my current age. By my judgement, Stanford law enforcement (whether in the form of adults in the dorm, i.e. RFs, or actual on-campus sheriffs) are fairly relaxed about drinking law. Obviously, if you get transported or get a DUI/BUI/public drunkenness citation, it'll still go your record. This got me to thinking: what is the real reason why alcohol is illegal?
As far as I can tell, the intent of minimum age drinking (as well as any other drugs, like nicotine for instance) laws is to prevent irresponsible substance use. The fact that Stanford is so lax about these laws in casual environments (within dorms during parties and whatnot), and actually has programming that do not strictly discourage people from drinking (i.e. encourages people, if they choose to drink, to stay within the "social zone") seems to imply that they are confident in Stanford students' ability to make responsible decisions for themselves.
Indeed, over the weeks here I am realizing I am far more responsible than I gave myself credit for. It helped that last week a lot of the people I consider my role models and relate heavily to demonstrated (not intentionally to me in particular) that they were able to let loose without going overboard. The one time last quarter that I first consumed alcohol by choice did not propel me into a downward spiral of alcohol consumption. In addition, I think as strong a reason as not wanting to actually be irresponsible was the desire not to even possibly have an image of being irresponsible. Because alcohol is so commonly portrayed as (and at times is) the cause of crazy, irresponsible behavior, I did not want anyone to be thought of one of "those" college students.
What does this mean? It means I'm at this conflicted crossroads. I am becoming more comfortable with the idea of drinking because 1) I am feeling increased certainty that I won't adopt behavior similar to what my mom did (and she's getting better herself, so that helps), 2) some of the people I look up to the most and whose quality of character I consider admirable, respectable, and strive to embody myself are able to fit alcohol consumption into their lifestyle (the phrasing of this meaning to suggest that responsible alcohol consumption would not inhibit my ability to be the kind of person I want to be, rather than that I strive to be someone whose quality of character includes alcohol consumption), and 3) it simply felt good being less tightly-strung and feeling my muscles and emotion unwind with small quantities of alcohol.
When I look at that list, all of them are personal reasons. I've always been good at staying true to my own values and being outspoken about things I believe in. None of those reasons are a contradiction to my beliefs (e.g. out of peer pressure); instead, my reconsideration of the topic is due to a fundamental shift in my beliefs.
At the same time, a lot of the friends I'm closest to don't drink, and we got close because on weekends we seek non-alcoholic forms of recreation, etc. Will drinking ruin these friendships, and if so will the friendships I forge with other measured, responsible drinkers (which I am confident I can distinguish from irresponsible drinkers, and proceed to surround myself with) be worth the demise of these older friendships?
Honestly do not know.
Tuesday, February 5, 2013
Mom's Birthday Today
I am so ashamed of myself. Today was my mom's birthday. I remembered it yesterday, but today it wasn't until I was writing the date on the notes I was taking in math section that I remembered it again. I set an alarm for myself to remind myself to write an email to my mom wishing her a happy birthday.
An email?! M- fucking flew back home to surprise his mom on her birthday. Granted, he lives in California, but an email. What the hell is wrong with me?
I ended up calling my mom (go me), deciding that an email totally does not do my mom justice. I was deathly afraid of having a conversation with her, because what could I talk about? She didn't know anything about the classes I'm taking, the clubs I'm in, the job I got, or most of the people I interact with. I don't know how anything about how life back in Washington is. Sure I can hold my own against professors or employers, but not my mom. It was the first time I've called her this quarter, and the third time since coming to Stanford.
She picked up before the first dial tone was over.
I wished her a happy birthday. She said thanks and asked how school is. I told her it was midterm season. She told me to stay healthy and not be too worried about school. Meanwhile, she's leaving for Washington D.C. to report on some event. Since we were on the topic of job stuff, I told her about the FPS job I had gotten more than four months ago. She very defensively insisted that I do not take on a job until summer because she wants me not to have so much to worry about, and said that even if I don't get a job they'll still find a way to pay for my tuition. I told her not to worry, and then asked her how the divorce stuff was coming along. She said the only thing that's left in the paperwork is splitting up the debt my parents borrowed from my paternal grandparents when we were buying our house. All the assets they owned has already been split. She's already signed a contract for renting out a 2-bedroom apartment (for when my sister comes home) and is moving out by February 15th, and that they've already signed another contract to rent out our home and furniture to another family, and that they'll be moving in March 1st. She told me if there's anything I need to spend money on, I shouldn't be afraid to do so because she will send me more money if I need it, even if my dad refuses to. She said that I should resign immediately from my job if balancing that with academics is too much, and if I'm struggling with academics I shouldn't worry because health comes first, and even if I lose some of the merit scholarships I'm on she'll find some way to make up for it.
But let's be honest here. I've looked at the prices of apartments in the Bellevue/Renton/Redmond area, and I also know my mom's salary. There is no way in hell she'll be able to make ends meet with her salary alone, and her alimony provisions won't last forever. I, her son that was actually seriously considering to just send a fucking email for her birthday, do not deserve to be spoiled like this. I absolutely need to find a job (beyond the FPS one) ASAP. Especially with the house rental now frighteningly real, the urgency is greater than ever.
At any rate, I'm glad I ended up calling her today. Didn't know she was getting on a plane tomorrow, what if something happened? Before today, the last words I said to her was an email telling her to stop forwarding emails from the Selective Service because she thought they were scholarships.
An email?! M- fucking flew back home to surprise his mom on her birthday. Granted, he lives in California, but an email. What the hell is wrong with me?
I ended up calling my mom (go me), deciding that an email totally does not do my mom justice. I was deathly afraid of having a conversation with her, because what could I talk about? She didn't know anything about the classes I'm taking, the clubs I'm in, the job I got, or most of the people I interact with. I don't know how anything about how life back in Washington is. Sure I can hold my own against professors or employers, but not my mom. It was the first time I've called her this quarter, and the third time since coming to Stanford.
She picked up before the first dial tone was over.
I wished her a happy birthday. She said thanks and asked how school is. I told her it was midterm season. She told me to stay healthy and not be too worried about school. Meanwhile, she's leaving for Washington D.C. to report on some event. Since we were on the topic of job stuff, I told her about the FPS job I had gotten more than four months ago. She very defensively insisted that I do not take on a job until summer because she wants me not to have so much to worry about, and said that even if I don't get a job they'll still find a way to pay for my tuition. I told her not to worry, and then asked her how the divorce stuff was coming along. She said the only thing that's left in the paperwork is splitting up the debt my parents borrowed from my paternal grandparents when we were buying our house. All the assets they owned has already been split. She's already signed a contract for renting out a 2-bedroom apartment (for when my sister comes home) and is moving out by February 15th, and that they've already signed another contract to rent out our home and furniture to another family, and that they'll be moving in March 1st. She told me if there's anything I need to spend money on, I shouldn't be afraid to do so because she will send me more money if I need it, even if my dad refuses to. She said that I should resign immediately from my job if balancing that with academics is too much, and if I'm struggling with academics I shouldn't worry because health comes first, and even if I lose some of the merit scholarships I'm on she'll find some way to make up for it.
But let's be honest here. I've looked at the prices of apartments in the Bellevue/Renton/Redmond area, and I also know my mom's salary. There is no way in hell she'll be able to make ends meet with her salary alone, and her alimony provisions won't last forever. I, her son that was actually seriously considering to just send a fucking email for her birthday, do not deserve to be spoiled like this. I absolutely need to find a job (beyond the FPS one) ASAP. Especially with the house rental now frighteningly real, the urgency is greater than ever.
At any rate, I'm glad I ended up calling her today. Didn't know she was getting on a plane tomorrow, what if something happened? Before today, the last words I said to her was an email telling her to stop forwarding emails from the Selective Service because she thought they were scholarships.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
Dad's Postcard and Care Package
My dad insisted on driving me to the airport, just like he insisted on dropping me off at Stanford before the school year started. He's back from his business trip to China (perhaps "business trip" to "China") now. He gave me a postcard with a penguin on a polar bear that, in a nutshell, said:
It made me sad to see you and your sister fight.
The divorce will be legally processed by the end of the month, and afterwards I will be going overseas and who knows what your mom will be doing. Both of us are in poor physical health. For all you know, the two of you might be the closest family either of you have shortly. You guys should get along.
I have one New Years' wish. I wish you guys would add me on Facebook. You guys are 18 now, I'm not trying to control your life. Please add me so I can know how you guys are doing.
Know that your mom and I will always love you very very much. You can always talk to us about anything.
Love, Dad 1/5/12
And my thoughts about it? Fuck you dad. It makes you SAD to see us fight? Boo frickin hoo. How do you think it makes us feel when you and mom fight, hmm? Both of you are in poor physical health? Maybe if you and mom stayed together, lived together, and looked out for each other like you had for the 16 years before my junior year, like my mom did for you when she saved your life in Michigan. And don't you use Facebook friendship as a starting point for repairing the damaged father-child relationship. If you want to get on better terms with us, you better talk to us, face to face, and tell us honestly everything you've done for the past two years, like we've beckoned you to do on numerous occasions. Maybe then we'll start to open up to you and trust you again. It's hard to give you the benefit of the doubt on anything when you've cheated on mom. It sounds resentful, but it will take much more effort than social networking to set you on the right path again. I don't like holding grudges, but I feel justified, for myself and for mom, in holding this grudge.
~~~~~~~~~~
Today was my second day back to Stanford after winter break and first day of winter quarter. I spent the majority of my day upstairs in K-, K-, and L-'s room, and some time in those hours they had sneaked together, put all of their stuff in a box, packaged it, wrote a meaningful note on origami paper and folded it into a flower, and delivered it to the doorstep of my room. And at midnight, they misled me into thinking they wanted to watch How I Met Your Mother so I'd go downstairs to get my hard drive, and I found it at my doorstep.
At first I had no idea what it was, and I asked my roommate about it, and he didn't say a word about it. He just shrugged even though he knew who was behind it. Very thorough planning on the part of K-, the deliverer. It was addressed to "Larry Lewis Liu" so I was able to narrow it down to a few people who knew about the middle name that K-'s friends gave to me.
I took it upstairs to try to find L-, who I thought was behind it because he said he had a present for me, but to my surprise, there were like 8 people in my RA S-'s room. At that point, I knew whatever was up was a bit bigger scale than I expected. I opened it, and the cardboard flap that opened up from the top the box said "CARE PACKAGE :)"
Turns out, over break, eleven of my dormmates had collaborated and decided they'd each bring me something that represented where they were from. From snacks, to soap, to homemade desserts, to magnets, to a hat (that is arriving in the actual mail soon!), to a book by an author I enjoy. There was a card written in an origami flower that L- folded, in which they each wrote an adjective or descriptive phrase they liked about me. I was speechless. I managed to choke back tears long enough to give everyone a hug and then excuse myself and leave under the guise of bringing the box back downstairs.
I have never felt so warm and loved before. It's an incredible feeling. And they couldn't have given it to me at a time when I needed it more. I was at an emotional low after cleaning out my room in preparation for selling our house, going over divorce paperwork with my mom, and my dad's postcard in the last few days of break. My last class of the day was a lecture for a class titled Love as a Force for Social Change, and as interested as I am in the class material for the sake of acquiring knowledge and education, all the anecdotes that the professor and students shared about how love has manifested itself in their lives only made me miserable because I did not have anything to share that was remotely as cherished as my colleagues cherished theirs.
I could not have asked for a better cohort of dormmates. No matter what happens, I will treasure for forever the past five months I've spent with them and the six to come.
It made me sad to see you and your sister fight.
The divorce will be legally processed by the end of the month, and afterwards I will be going overseas and who knows what your mom will be doing. Both of us are in poor physical health. For all you know, the two of you might be the closest family either of you have shortly. You guys should get along.
I have one New Years' wish. I wish you guys would add me on Facebook. You guys are 18 now, I'm not trying to control your life. Please add me so I can know how you guys are doing.
Know that your mom and I will always love you very very much. You can always talk to us about anything.
Love, Dad 1/5/12
And my thoughts about it? Fuck you dad. It makes you SAD to see us fight? Boo frickin hoo. How do you think it makes us feel when you and mom fight, hmm? Both of you are in poor physical health? Maybe if you and mom stayed together, lived together, and looked out for each other like you had for the 16 years before my junior year, like my mom did for you when she saved your life in Michigan. And don't you use Facebook friendship as a starting point for repairing the damaged father-child relationship. If you want to get on better terms with us, you better talk to us, face to face, and tell us honestly everything you've done for the past two years, like we've beckoned you to do on numerous occasions. Maybe then we'll start to open up to you and trust you again. It's hard to give you the benefit of the doubt on anything when you've cheated on mom. It sounds resentful, but it will take much more effort than social networking to set you on the right path again. I don't like holding grudges, but I feel justified, for myself and for mom, in holding this grudge.
~~~~~~~~~~
Today was my second day back to Stanford after winter break and first day of winter quarter. I spent the majority of my day upstairs in K-, K-, and L-'s room, and some time in those hours they had sneaked together, put all of their stuff in a box, packaged it, wrote a meaningful note on origami paper and folded it into a flower, and delivered it to the doorstep of my room. And at midnight, they misled me into thinking they wanted to watch How I Met Your Mother so I'd go downstairs to get my hard drive, and I found it at my doorstep.
At first I had no idea what it was, and I asked my roommate about it, and he didn't say a word about it. He just shrugged even though he knew who was behind it. Very thorough planning on the part of K-, the deliverer. It was addressed to "Larry Lewis Liu" so I was able to narrow it down to a few people who knew about the middle name that K-'s friends gave to me.
I took it upstairs to try to find L-, who I thought was behind it because he said he had a present for me, but to my surprise, there were like 8 people in my RA S-'s room. At that point, I knew whatever was up was a bit bigger scale than I expected. I opened it, and the cardboard flap that opened up from the top the box said "CARE PACKAGE :)"
Turns out, over break, eleven of my dormmates had collaborated and decided they'd each bring me something that represented where they were from. From snacks, to soap, to homemade desserts, to magnets, to a hat (that is arriving in the actual mail soon!), to a book by an author I enjoy. There was a card written in an origami flower that L- folded, in which they each wrote an adjective or descriptive phrase they liked about me. I was speechless. I managed to choke back tears long enough to give everyone a hug and then excuse myself and leave under the guise of bringing the box back downstairs.
I have never felt so warm and loved before. It's an incredible feeling. And they couldn't have given it to me at a time when I needed it more. I was at an emotional low after cleaning out my room in preparation for selling our house, going over divorce paperwork with my mom, and my dad's postcard in the last few days of break. My last class of the day was a lecture for a class titled Love as a Force for Social Change, and as interested as I am in the class material for the sake of acquiring knowledge and education, all the anecdotes that the professor and students shared about how love has manifested itself in their lives only made me miserable because I did not have anything to share that was remotely as cherished as my colleagues cherished theirs.
I could not have asked for a better cohort of dormmates. No matter what happens, I will treasure for forever the past five months I've spent with them and the six to come.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Dinner with dad
Well, first off you know something's wrong with your family when eating a non-holiday meal together needs to be scheduled a week beforehand.
Next, nothing dramatic changed between my dad and I since I started college. Collectively, my immediate family is remarkably terrible at holding a conversation. The dialogue between my dad and I was very matter-of-fact and short-lived.
On the other hand, my sister threw a fucking tantrum in the public restaurant. She was crying by the time we paid and left. And why? She didn't want me to get a new phone carrier. First, why is that any of her business? Second, why not? Because then my parents will actually be able to contact me? I'm personally convinced she doesn't want me to switch to a family plan because it'll save me money to pay for my proportion of a family plan because we pay for our phone bills by ourselves, yet she refuses to be on a family plan with my dad because she hates him.
At any rate, she kept spouting bullshit and making false claims until my mom, dad, and I all told her she was lying through her teeth about what all of us had said, at which point she just cried. So then we left the restaurant. When we got to the car, she just stood demandingly next to the shotgun door and my mom asked her why she was sitting in the front, to which she replied, yelling, that she didn't want to sit next to me in the back seats.
In fact, last night, I was grading the FPS packets for PPII because I have to get them to my boss by next weekish, and she took the power cord to the household internet modem because she thought I was going to be too loud and she wouldn't be able to sleep. Who the hell does she think she is? In what universe does she get to dictate what I can do at what hour? And she can't sleep when there's a closet and two walls between the room I was in and hers? She is like an actual manifestation of the first-world problem girl. She thinks she is entitled to everything. I know I told my mom there's no way I'd abandon her if she comes to me in need of financial assistance a couple decades down the line because she wasted her time in high school and college, but she is really testing me right now.
If my mom and sister arguing and my fairly indifferent dad is all I come home to, I think I'd be willing to consider just straight up staying in California whether or not I get a summer job, internship, or research position. I can't stand it here.
Next, nothing dramatic changed between my dad and I since I started college. Collectively, my immediate family is remarkably terrible at holding a conversation. The dialogue between my dad and I was very matter-of-fact and short-lived.
On the other hand, my sister threw a fucking tantrum in the public restaurant. She was crying by the time we paid and left. And why? She didn't want me to get a new phone carrier. First, why is that any of her business? Second, why not? Because then my parents will actually be able to contact me? I'm personally convinced she doesn't want me to switch to a family plan because it'll save me money to pay for my proportion of a family plan because we pay for our phone bills by ourselves, yet she refuses to be on a family plan with my dad because she hates him.
At any rate, she kept spouting bullshit and making false claims until my mom, dad, and I all told her she was lying through her teeth about what all of us had said, at which point she just cried. So then we left the restaurant. When we got to the car, she just stood demandingly next to the shotgun door and my mom asked her why she was sitting in the front, to which she replied, yelling, that she didn't want to sit next to me in the back seats.
In fact, last night, I was grading the FPS packets for PPII because I have to get them to my boss by next weekish, and she took the power cord to the household internet modem because she thought I was going to be too loud and she wouldn't be able to sleep. Who the hell does she think she is? In what universe does she get to dictate what I can do at what hour? And she can't sleep when there's a closet and two walls between the room I was in and hers? She is like an actual manifestation of the first-world problem girl. She thinks she is entitled to everything. I know I told my mom there's no way I'd abandon her if she comes to me in need of financial assistance a couple decades down the line because she wasted her time in high school and college, but she is really testing me right now.
If my mom and sister arguing and my fairly indifferent dad is all I come home to, I think I'd be willing to consider just straight up staying in California whether or not I get a summer job, internship, or research position. I can't stand it here.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Cancer-Free!
My mom is cancer-free! Her surgery was a few days ago, and the cancer cells have all been removed as of Tuesday!
Monday, September 17, 2012
The day before college begins
NSO starts tomorrow.
My dad flew home today. No tears were shed in a sentimental goodbye.
(In the meantime, my sister made my mom cry by complaining about not being able to go souvenir shopping ceaselessly after she drove over 250 miles in back to back days and was exhausted.)
---
I don't know what to feel right now. I'm not nervous. I'm not anxious. I'm pretty excited, but not bouncing off the wall excited.
I just have this nagging feeling that I forgot something back in Washington. Not something tangible though, not a belonging I needed to bring to my dorm or anything. I guess I just feel like I left a lot of loose strings in the various storylines of my life back in Washington.
My dad flew home today. No tears were shed in a sentimental goodbye.
(In the meantime, my sister made my mom cry by complaining about not being able to go souvenir shopping ceaselessly after she drove over 250 miles in back to back days and was exhausted.)
---
I don't know what to feel right now. I'm not nervous. I'm not anxious. I'm pretty excited, but not bouncing off the wall excited.
I just have this nagging feeling that I forgot something back in Washington. Not something tangible though, not a belonging I needed to bring to my dorm or anything. I guess I just feel like I left a lot of loose strings in the various storylines of my life back in Washington.
Monday, August 20, 2012
My mom is pissing me off.
My mom holds literally everything against me. She is so full of contradictions and so devoid of sense. Let's see what accusations I've received recently.
- My sister goes out and parties too much with her friends, therefore it becomes my sole responsibility to care for her because nobody else will. Way to address the root of the problem!
- My mom tells me that she doesn't want me attending her breast cancer examinations because, after all, it's breast cancer and that gets awkward. Then, she says I'm heartless and impatient because I never go with her to examinations and help her translate what the doctors say.
- My mom tells me that she doesn't want to get involved with college stuff (applications, housing, meal plans, move-in stuff, basically all the orientation things) because there's too much English, and that she trusts I can handle it. Then, she says she feels hurt that I keep shutting her out of college information, and she feels unwelcome and not knowledgeable when she talks to other parents at any admit receptions/sendoff parties.
- I've finally turned 18, and therefore it is my responsibility to become more independent (with planning my own activities, chores, work, etc.). Oh wait! How dare I not inform her of every little detail in my life?? She didn't raise me 18 full years just so I can sever family ties. I'm still her baby, and she has every right to know who I talk to, what I read and do.
- When I do tell my mom something, she then proceeds to forget within the next five minutes. Then she'll ask me again, and forget again. If she asks some three or four times, I'll tell her, I've told you before. Then she'll condescendingly question--is this how you're treating me when I'm in my mid-40s? I can't imagine how bad you'll be when my memory's even worse later on. How hard is it to just repeat it once more? Believe it or not, just because you've forgotten something I've told you, doesn't make me in the wrong for not telling you. Sure you can't really be blamed for forgetting, I understand it's a biological thing that comes with aging, but I sure as hell am not intentionally disrespecting you, nor in the wrong for being annoyed at repeating something as many as eight or nine times.
Whenever my mom talks to me, she is always card stacking. Always. I do almost all the chores because my sister doesn't, act as a liaison or translator between my mom and school administrators and teachers, cashiers at the grocery store, handymen for car maintenance, and pretty much fucking everything. I've must've moved tens of thousands of pounds of groceries, and helped her lug the 40ish-lb vacuum cleaner up an down the stairs hundreds of times.
And the worst part is, I don't even try to point out how wrong she is when she berates me for all this shit. She'd just say I have no right to point out her mistakes because she's my mom. I just sit and listen to her hurl these accusations. Today, she got mad at me for looking angry when she's talking to me. Am I not allowed to look angry?
When I was like 7, my 2nd grade teacher was trying to explain the difference between house and home. She said that house is just a physical object, but home implies an associated feeling of comfort. Seeing those "Welcome home" signs in pictures of past Stanford NSOs makes me think: I'm so damn glad I'm leaving for college soon, because that's where home is. It's kind of silly how teachers try to teach little kids that with the word "family" carries implied feelings of affection and love. The last two years of my life have really proven otherwise.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Not invincible
I think I sorted through my feelings a bit more.
Today, I went to downtown Seattle (Westlake Center) to meet up with a few other rising freshmen who will be my classmates next year at Stanford. Luckily for me, I live only 20 minutes away; S- drove an hour and 45 minutes or something to get there.
It was great. We walked around proudly wearing our red and white, sang to Under the Sea with some of the buskers, visited the first Starbucks in the world, got fondly licked by police horses, taste tested varieties of olive oil (blackberry, orange and dark chocolate, pear and cranberry, among others), got lost and asked for directions pretending we were Californians, got soaked touching "the butt" (the International Fountain), took a ton of silly pictures, sunbathed in a triangle formation on each other's stomachs (until more people joined, when it just turned into a pile of red and white and grey), and ate good mall fake Asian food.
In a nutshell, I was feeling pretty invincible. I've been told a number of times that I had my future in my hands now that I'm going to Stanford, and it felt true in those six or seven hours.
At around 8:15 my mom picked me up and we headed home. My mom missed the express lane and when I pointed it out she said she had a lot on her mind and wasn't paying attention. I asked what it was, and she told me that the mammogram she had done earlier that day revealed she had cancer. We don't know yet if it's benign or malignant; she has 6 hours' worth of examinations and tests to undergo in the next two business days.
I was pretty determined to be strong for her. I've been watching Avatar the past few weeks (both The Last Airbender and Legend of Korra), and those kids go through way tougher shit than I do. Yes it's a cartoon, but the notions are the same. Be strong in the face of adversity, blahblah.
In addition to that news, something's also happened to my mom's youngest brother (who is 3 years older than her). He had lent us money when we were buying our house like 6 years back, but now he's in financial trouble. For some reason, he had closed the shop he owned and sold his cars. Obviously, my mom wanted to return the favor. However, with a pending divorce, her cancer is a huge financial burden once the divorce goes through and she no longer has access to the insurance policy family plan through my dad's employer.
Last Thursday, I had turned in my application for the Stanford Summer Engineering Academy (SSEA), and I heard today that people were getting their results back by email. I went home and checked my email. Nothing.
It's all crashing down on me now. My dad's a dick and everything that happens with his side of my family inevitably get to him, and if I could somehow pay my way through college myself, I'd be more than happy to cut off all communication with him. I didn't even want him at my high school graduation. My mom's side of the family actually has people with some level of decency, but look what good it's done them. My mom's sister had an abusive, alcoholic husband, and, now divorced, she's single at the age of 50 and some change. My older maternal uncle divorced when their son was in college (sounds familiar?), remarried, and now I have a cousin who's 2. My younger maternal uncle is still happy in marriage, but something's happening with his financial security apparently. And of course my parents are separating, and my mom has cancer. I got into Stanford? So what? The world is by no means at my doorstep. In fact, if anything, it's only been slipping further and further away in the last few months. And of course, there's nothing I can do about it, because plenty of Ivy League graduates don't have jobs, and I'm not even like top of my class kind of thing, SSEA kind of proves it.
I'm pretty much Harry Potter. And when everyone goes home on vacations, my mom will be in Taiwan and only in the best case scenario. The worst case scenario I don't even want to type out.
And when I thought of that analogy, it made me realize, I'm pretty much utterly alone. As far as loved ones go, I have it worse than Harry. Having your parents die before you were conscious is terrible, I'm not denying that. But I'd take pleasure knowing my parents died to save me. And also, Harry had the Weasleys to stay with. I might be great with people (all the new people I met today + the strangers on the street seem to suggest that that's true), but how many people do I feel close enough to just crash at their house for a while? None, really. College is hitting me full force right now, it's sunk in that I'm done with high school. It's only a month and 3 days before I'm legally an adult; it's about time I mentally readied myself for it. And I'm fucking scared as hell.
Today, I went to downtown Seattle (Westlake Center) to meet up with a few other rising freshmen who will be my classmates next year at Stanford. Luckily for me, I live only 20 minutes away; S- drove an hour and 45 minutes or something to get there.
It was great. We walked around proudly wearing our red and white, sang to Under the Sea with some of the buskers, visited the first Starbucks in the world, got fondly licked by police horses, taste tested varieties of olive oil (blackberry, orange and dark chocolate, pear and cranberry, among others), got lost and asked for directions pretending we were Californians, got soaked touching "the butt" (the International Fountain), took a ton of silly pictures, sunbathed in a triangle formation on each other's stomachs (until more people joined, when it just turned into a pile of red and white and grey), and ate good mall fake Asian food.
In a nutshell, I was feeling pretty invincible. I've been told a number of times that I had my future in my hands now that I'm going to Stanford, and it felt true in those six or seven hours.
At around 8:15 my mom picked me up and we headed home. My mom missed the express lane and when I pointed it out she said she had a lot on her mind and wasn't paying attention. I asked what it was, and she told me that the mammogram she had done earlier that day revealed she had cancer. We don't know yet if it's benign or malignant; she has 6 hours' worth of examinations and tests to undergo in the next two business days.
I was pretty determined to be strong for her. I've been watching Avatar the past few weeks (both The Last Airbender and Legend of Korra), and those kids go through way tougher shit than I do. Yes it's a cartoon, but the notions are the same. Be strong in the face of adversity, blahblah.
In addition to that news, something's also happened to my mom's youngest brother (who is 3 years older than her). He had lent us money when we were buying our house like 6 years back, but now he's in financial trouble. For some reason, he had closed the shop he owned and sold his cars. Obviously, my mom wanted to return the favor. However, with a pending divorce, her cancer is a huge financial burden once the divorce goes through and she no longer has access to the insurance policy family plan through my dad's employer.
Last Thursday, I had turned in my application for the Stanford Summer Engineering Academy (SSEA), and I heard today that people were getting their results back by email. I went home and checked my email. Nothing.
It's all crashing down on me now. My dad's a dick and everything that happens with his side of my family inevitably get to him, and if I could somehow pay my way through college myself, I'd be more than happy to cut off all communication with him. I didn't even want him at my high school graduation. My mom's side of the family actually has people with some level of decency, but look what good it's done them. My mom's sister had an abusive, alcoholic husband, and, now divorced, she's single at the age of 50 and some change. My older maternal uncle divorced when their son was in college (sounds familiar?), remarried, and now I have a cousin who's 2. My younger maternal uncle is still happy in marriage, but something's happening with his financial security apparently. And of course my parents are separating, and my mom has cancer. I got into Stanford? So what? The world is by no means at my doorstep. In fact, if anything, it's only been slipping further and further away in the last few months. And of course, there's nothing I can do about it, because plenty of Ivy League graduates don't have jobs, and I'm not even like top of my class kind of thing, SSEA kind of proves it.
I'm pretty much Harry Potter. And when everyone goes home on vacations, my mom will be in Taiwan and only in the best case scenario. The worst case scenario I don't even want to type out.
And when I thought of that analogy, it made me realize, I'm pretty much utterly alone. As far as loved ones go, I have it worse than Harry. Having your parents die before you were conscious is terrible, I'm not denying that. But I'd take pleasure knowing my parents died to save me. And also, Harry had the Weasleys to stay with. I might be great with people (all the new people I met today + the strangers on the street seem to suggest that that's true), but how many people do I feel close enough to just crash at their house for a while? None, really. College is hitting me full force right now, it's sunk in that I'm done with high school. It's only a month and 3 days before I'm legally an adult; it's about time I mentally readied myself for it. And I'm fucking scared as hell.
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