Some say it’s the Chinese culture to be blunt and direct. “They don’t mean to hurt your feelings.” They don’t understand the impacts of what they’re saying.” But if I say stop with all seriousness as direct and forward as I can be, then why do their words stay unchanged?
I am all for the maintenance of culture, acceptance of heritage, and knowledge of different backgrounds. But I also think the most beautiful points between cultures are in the transcending points when both can learn, accept, and grow.
Sadly, not even I think I can accept right now, knowing my other will never even will to learn.
As I sit here watching the Bellagio water fountain water show play along the classic music, I can only imagine this being a substitute in a movie for the glorious scene during which the young lad finally has his great orgasm after an awkward introduction to sex.
We always try to recreate what was once ours but never embraced or appreciated at the moment. And the tried recreations leave us frustrated, upset, and disappointed in ourselves and others. We build reasons, tell stories, and draw conclusions to help us stand up with only one foot; that because of a single fault, or several, in each of the attempts, we have a strength to be a part of the recreation once again.
But why is it always less appealing to start with what is ours for the day? The ours that we have built thus far, which, too, deserve our greatest trials, attention, and disappointments to laugh over and enjoy.
S.I.D.E: Summer Internship at the Department of Education
During the afternoon of Washington, DC’s early summer heat, I spent my hours unpacking what my mom had carefully set into my suitcase. You see, my mom is one of those moms—those overprotective yet terribly loving moms.
Earlier in the week, while I was still in Los Angeles enjoying my summer fun from college and before work, my mother decided to take the clothes I had laid out on my bed and put them in my suitcase before I could finalize my packings. And earlier even earlier in the years and throughout my life, my mom has been there packing my things, you know, like lunches, clothes, homework, etcetera. She’s helped me pack these items, in addition to my thoughts, remiders, stress, and worries.
It’s not too late for some sort of Mother’s Day tribute, right?
Yeah, so my mom. She’s been with me through everything and for everything. I love her for it. However, with the packing came excessive packing and hand holding—metaphorically and literally.
But this afternoon, as I hailed her a cab off to Reagan Airport, I reflected on the past couple of days and (tbc sorry tumblr & I was feeling good about this one, too)
After a night of great conversations and relaxing moments, I came home to check the final grades of the semester.
I ended the semester feeling better about Berkeley than I have felt in the past. Things just seemed to have fallen into place since I ended with a summer internship at the department of my choice and a job for the next academic year as a peer adviser. However, school is meant to be for learning, and my grades just don’t seem to reflect all that I’ve learned.
This past spring semester, I took a media studies course on visual communications. Philosophy, sociology, and anthropology were a few of the regions where most of the theories I had learned came from for studies. All areas of interest and discussion were interesting, lectures were entertaining, and readings allowed plenty of room for personal reflection. Yet, I can’t help but feel that my lack of participation and confidence in myself to speak in discussion have led me to the B+ on my final grade. Despite the tremendous distance I believe to have gained in my path of knowledge, I just want to wallow in cloud of pillows and spew my emotions and frustration to find some comfort. Why can’t I feel like the effort I have put in the class is enough to be proud of for this semester?
This grade is unwavering and summer has begun.
While I would like to say that I have tried my best to complete this semester with stellar grades—especially since I changed biology to a pass-fail class—I can’t. There is no one and none to blame but the simple fact that I decided to allot my time and dedication to attending to my personal problems rather than avoiding them, building on social structures instead of stagnating them, and focusing aggressively on building a path for my working skills instead of waiting.
I’ve looked at a couple of other blogs by a few of the college, semester-system students. Most of them end with things they wished to have completed and choices they could have made, and they all end with a simple, next-time’s-a-charm sort of mentality or a to-do list. Not to isolate myself as any sort of individual, but I’d like to embrace what I’ve done with this semester. This is not to say that my very mediocre GPA is outstanding or well justified. However, this I believe* by the simple writing of a blog and a reflection on my semester, with grades inseparable from personal and social experiences, is how I am coming to realize that I should be proud of what I have come to learn and accepting of my accomplishments. Yes, I won’t be any different from the college student who wants to try harder next time, but I would like to add some context to that statement. I will try harder my junior year in respects to this past semester by generating greater focus to academics instead of my social career. Now that I have finally found my comfort in the dance community and will soon begin my path to finding out what it is I want in a career, greater attention can be directed towards the academics of school, learning through texts and lectures.
Recently, I have come to ends that school just might not be for me, which is quite interesting since I am a strong advocator for higher education—and education in general. The process of learning information and dedicating my lifetime to learning and being introduced to new theories and lessons so abstract, yet applicable, to my life thrills me. [I can finally say that I have read every article, book, and excerpt demanded and optioned to me this semester in Media Studies; thankfully I can also say that I’ve built and connected the readings and can still take what I have learned to relate to what I experience or come across.] However, the simple love and passion for learning is also exactly what might make me a poor student. So much of how I internalize and understand these abstract theories are through my daily experiences and interactions with others. Granted, I may not spend all or more than half of my conversations or outings to building direct relations between a philosopher and a tangible situation, but life is so much more than those exact equations.
I am glad, maybe even lucky, to have come to the realization that life is better with the details and without formulaic understandings for its every moment. Sometimes bliss is much too simple for a complicated reason or an in-depth, mind-blowing concept, and that is perhaps its greatest glory.
*Junnie lent me a copy of This I Believe for my summer read, and I am really excited for the compilation of essays to serve as a comfort from the bustle of D.C. internship for the good ol’ Fed. Thanks, June Bug.
It’s amazing how popular Flying Lotus has become to the point of getting noticed by NPR, with his own headliner on their music page and as the largest story displayed. I don’t know why this trips me out, but I still remember seeing him on my 18th birthday in that Stussy store in L.A.
1. A song that used to make me incredibly depressed has, under a change of circumstances, made me feel really happy today.
2. I think my biggest problem is having the idea that it’s still possible. I can’t seem to completely let it go. I really need to though. For the sake of myself and whoever may come into my life.
Let. It. Go.
3. This probably doesn’t make sense outside the proper context.
You know, it’s so odd how your No. 2 and 3 can somehow umbrella the biggest dilemma/situations I have found myself in since last night.
I mean, I am definitely not saying that we have the same problem or that our problems are on the same level of seriousness. But I am saying that this possibility lingering in my mind about this something is just ruining me.
The hardest thing to do is let it go.
And honestly, after talking about an issue more with friends can really just spread the problem rather than pinpoint and act upon it, justly, fairly, and clearly.
Edit: Yay for technology. Now I can say I’ve done the drunk call, drunk text, and drunk blog.
I never really understand why I always seem to fall back into this low—especially after I’ve felt so high. Despite the amount of time I try to invest in others and in getting others to invest in themselves, I forget to listen to my words.
Although the act, by definition, is hypocritical, is it wrong?
I believe that no one can live without faults or blemishes. And with that said, I have noticed this constant recognition of my blemishes. When the acknowledgement is constantly in check and the acceptance that there is no use in comparison is already deeply engrained, where do I go to make this cycle transition into a different one?
“Of course not, that’s ridiculous. They’re looking for illegals. They’re looking for people acting suspiciously, like gardening or burping white people’s babies.”—Wyatt Cenac, The Daily Show [On Arizona Immigration Law SB 1070]
Playing the game, you feel like you are in control of all plays, risks, and choices made by you. But there is no win waiting at the end of the game; you are left alone—win or lose. And who really wants that?