connie does livejournal

Wed, 19 Dec 2007 01:57:57 GMT

"hey, have you been to the NHS ceremony before?"
"is that when they light candles or something?"
"well, mine's coming up..."
"yeah, i've been to your brother and sister's already."

from the beginning of the national honor society process, i always thought it was stupid. i saw that the brainless and imbecilic were nominated, while the bright and knowing that could - and no doubt, would - change the world were not even considered for candidacy. and so, i went around personally, though ineffectively, defaming the organization i was forced to vie for a membership in. i knew the whole thing was stupid.

but tonight i see that i might've characterized it in this way because of my parents. and i never blame them for anything because they are the greatest people i know, and the word greatest encompasses all else that i cannot express in words. courage, talent, perseverance, determination, diligence, selflessness, and whatever else i've failed to include. they are at this moment what the world so severely lacks. but i can't help but feel this dejection inside.

my parents went to everything of my brother and sister's, including both of their national honor society inductions. and i understand probably more than some people ever will when it comes to how busy one can get, but the last thing i remember that my mother went to was my second grade spanish skit, and i have no memory of what special event of mine my father attended. it is the most difficult thing to ask my parents for even a ride to these things - and it hurt enough to request a ride to tonight's ceremony - let alone asking them to stay.

i sat in the car for an extra three minutes before i went inside, but before departure, i quickly slipped in a "if you and mom can come, it starts at seven. you should see the cool candles...it's fun." and julie. julie who fought so hard to be the one to pass me my flame, and as stupid and inane as it sounds, she supported me the whole time - that julie asked me if i knew where my parents were - i told her i didn't even try looking; it was too dark. but i tried looking, even though i think within i knew they weren't there. they couldn't have been. it's just never been, and you just can't hope for what's never been.

and i can almost say that i was happy throughout the night because it was fun. i try to always have fun. but i was smiling big and thinking glee when andrew told me his grandma couldn't resist clapping or saying his name. or maybe i meant until andrew told me ...and i smiled back because i thought it was adorable.

a former teacher of mine rushed up to me to give me a kiss and tell me how sublime this all was for me. i wouldn't be able to count all of the people that said congratulations to me tonight - and i'm positive some were sincere, and i thank them all for seeing something in me. but i walked back to the car tonight, and my parents ask me how it went, and i said it was okay. and i let them know i almost went out but i've too much homework to complete, to which my dad could only say what he's been telling me ever since i started high school: "you need to think about your SATs." and then my mother asks me if i've even finished registration, and i can't take it anymore. i'm just breaking down inside. why is it that all of our few conversations always revolve around this same subject? the topic in which i so desperately need aid in, apparently. it never really occurred to me before that people who've known me so few years are so proud of me, and my parents can only think about how much work i need on this fucking aptitude test that was once used for training soldiers but is now used for colleges to reap in some money. i can't stand it. if i'm the fallen child, the lost lamb, then i think i need the most encouragement, not the acerbic words - they cut right through me, no matter how many times i've heard them - they. hurt. each. time.

and it came to me tonight - another thing. i wait for christmas every year because it's my favorite time, unquestionably. it's the one time i have ever seen my entire family - my mother, my father, brother, sister - at the very same time - and sentimental reasons aside, i think it might also have to do with not being singled out every day of my current life. i try so hard to be original and different in the right light, but all they ever see are my flaws. it's like they have these special lenses prepared especially for optating my imperfections, and it just leads me to believe it's all i am. imperfections. it's all i'll ever be. a spot, a stain. but i'm also tired. i'm exhausted, i'm beat, i'm worn out.

my parents could care less about my nomination. my acceptance. the honor, the prestige, the whatever shit the school tells me it is.

i always knew NHS was stupid.

is this blood on my hands all for you?

Sat, 20 Oct 2007 03:11:50 GMT

i had to write something for english the other day (i know, preposterous. writing in english), where i retell a narrative in one of those "where (the fuck) do you see yourself in ten years?"

hmm...

i was going to write about the six homes i intend to have (san francisco bay area, new york city over park avenue - paris and milan whose exact locations i have not yet looked into... i am considering tuscany and venice, as well as where my beach house and winter cabins will be) and my private jet, but i didn't.

yeah, you're laughing at me now, but it'll happen. I'M NOT KIDDING.

the capitals speak the truth.

so anyway, i wrote this. this teacher is all about mimicking the style of other works we've read, so i was trying something new. i chose this author who appears enamored with run-ons and is probably one of those people who talk endlessly and can't shut up.

uh, maybe i chose a more fitting author than i thought.

“So, if Nancy was number three, and David was nine, then you will be one.” When I tell others this very quote, they can only offer quizzical stares – and I don’t blame them – because just as it was to me, to them, it’s all just a bunch of numbers. That’s all it ever amounted to for me: a bunch of numbers. Because at eight years old, it can be difficult to process any concepts beyond sharing and show-and-tell, let alone one derisory number that would come years later to single-handedly decide the futures of all students. But it’s been eighteen years; eighteen years has passed since my residency in that state of ignorance I love and miss. And where am I now? Where has this number brought me?

“When you grow up and are rich, you will buy us a house, right?” They always playfully told me this with good nature, but even back then I knew there was a hint, if not more, of hope, somewhere. Beneath it all, a sliver of hope always penetrated these words, as if this presence of hope would bestow truth and validity to these words. So I work these days – for them. I work a six-day week with approximately eighty hours if I’m lucky, seven days with a number so high it shouldn’t describe hours for a profession if I’m not. I work in a job where the coworkers are both good and bad because that’s how life works. I followed in the footsteps of my sister whose foreboding phone calls should have warned me of this lifestyle, and I dream of the life my brother chose that was astray from the path chosen for him. But I know I can’t say I’m unhappy because the distance between this idea and the truth is huge.

I’m happy.

“You just worry about getting into college. We’ll handle the rest.” By the time I entered high school, I understood how important a secondary school was to them. I know their demanding, difficult ways that I perceived as obnoxious were only forms of love. It was their own way of trying to prepare me for the best, to give me everything they were denied of – and more. So I went to college. Stanford was always one of my “reach” schools because they rejected my sister, the prodigal daughter, and who was going to want the crestfallen daughter after that? But for some reason I won’t ever be able to tell anyone, the school accepted me. I often think it’s because its reputation had decreased since eleven years prior when my sister tried, but I tell people it’s because the universe cares about me. I don’t think they buy it.

I remember in high school people were often under the misconception that getting to college was all it took – that maybe high school was the only place to gather all the numbers: the grades, the GPA, the SAT score, the ACT score, the AP score. I am now part of the population that thinks high school students are dumb and ignorant, and rightfully so. College wasn’t all partying and drinking, and it is no wonder suicide rates soar, but graduation eventually came. I worked my ass off to graduate eighth in a class of one thousand, and today I still know I did it to swell my parents with pride. The force and motivation behind it all was the possibility of their approval, the possibility that was forever distant and always out of my hands. I had always wanted so badly to make them proud, even for just once, it was worth it all, because I just wanted them to think I was worth something myself.

So today, I know I graduated eighth with a degree in political science for them. For them, I followed through with their plan to become a lawyer by going against absolutely everything else. My friends had always told me to pursue my ambition of journalism or chase that ancient vision of art; my teachers encouraged me to engage in international relations. I even went against the cautions of my sister, who always tried to prevent me from going down this path. But through it all, here I am, at the end of that very path. Everyone my entire life has told me one thing or another, including the multiple voices in my own mind, and they all advise me to “follow my heart” or something. That’s a clichéd statement no one needs, by the way. But my heart has told me to make my parents proud, to give them bragging rights at the parties in their new home. People always told me I couldn’t be happy if I went this way, but at the end of this journey, I see that happiness is achievable with pre-ordained paths.

i've been undergoing massive amounts of frustration lately, and i predict an exciting post soon.

Fri, 12 Jan 2007 02:24:50 GMT

the torment of existence, the horror of nonbeing.

Thu, 16 Nov 2006 01:42:38 GMT

i didn't have my keys today.

after groping the interior of my purse for ten minutes, i ceased efforts and sighed in disbelief and disgust, but only because i was reluctant and turned off by the idea of walking the ten miles from the front of the house to the back, where a spare key usually lived.

it wasn't there today.

i tried every of the 23554 entries to the house, and if there ever came a day where i was to discover my hidden supernatural ability within, i hoped it would be the long coveted superpower of unlocking a door and prayed today would be the chosen day to unleash it.

it wasn't today.

the 23554 doors stayed locked. i've only forgotten my keys twice in my life, today being the second. when i was younger, at about five, it seemed no one was quite there at the door, waiting to greet me, to say hi. if memory serves and truth be told, no one was quite there to even unlock the door. but after you unlock the door for two children, the third doesn't matter much anymore, right? obviously. i was accordingly presented with a set of my own house keys when i was of six years, and the other time i forgot them was probably two days after i initially received them.

after exhausting the doorbell and in all probability haven broken it, i walked to this stone wall that must have been some landscaping genius at the time the house was built, and i sat. for eons. i came to the realization that here i am, nine years, going on ten years, later, and everyone is still absent, and they all continued to fail to let me in. and the insight teared something inside of me that was already long tattered, and i'm not quite sure how many more rips this chasm can bare. i stared into the backyard for the longest time, counting the times i've always had to let myself in. i stared at the colossal edifice next to me, and i watched as gray clouds veiled the sky. when i used to call this my home, i must have been mistaken. no one should be locked out of her home for nine years. as the clouds invaded the sky and swallowed the sun, i could only stare some more - a triviality but a notable literary and cinematic cliché nonetheless.

i've said this before - a few months ago - and it's distressing to know i feel the same, and this is one huge generalization if i ever heard one, but i don't care to elaborate and cry about my sad life anymore because there's dying kids out there on the streets, but i don't feel good.

the funny thing is, whenever you tell someone you don't feel too hot, they tell you to go see a psychiatrist or something because they don't want to deal with it. that's people. by fortuity, i've had, and i believe i always will have, the right people there, people with that innate sensitivity, to ask me what's wrong. i hope i reciprocate but will undyingly thank whoever merits the gratitude for this rare compassion; there are only so many people with such humanity. but i don't want that. if there was someone out there who could just solve my problems with charging five hundred bucks an hour to talk to me, then i'd better start saving up.

i know i'm doing this the wrong way, and i'm discounting what some people search for for a lifetime. but unfortunately, sometimes, i'm people, too.

when you grow up, will you be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned?

Sun, 22 Oct 2006 19:27:35 GMT

there's a reason i act the way i am. it's not unprompted and unplanned, and i am not who i am today out of the blue.

there's a reason i flip evaluations over after i look at them, regardless of the number.

there's a reason i only ask you "how did you do?" and not, "what did you get?" i could care less what you got, and i wish you would care less about what i got, too. i've never believed intelligence can be accurately measured by a number or a letter, and i sure as hell don't believe knowing your grade will affect mine. thanks for telling me about your 98 anyway, though.

i need you to stop considering the useless things as your meterstick for that false feeling of being cool, loved. whatever. please stop showing me photographs of you and your friend and ask me to tell you how cute the two of you look. you need not to jump at every moment of silence and preceive it as an opportunity to remind me how much of an "original individual" you are. but seriously, kudos to your five-lettered comments on myspace, i'm glad how loved and important they make you feel.

in all honesty, knowing you log onto myspace every day after school makes me feel sorry for you. find a new calling, fix your life.

you think you're so different, and you'd like to think you're someone who doesn't give a damn, but i know better. i know you care for the whole world inside.

why don't you forget about trying to be so original for a moment and put more effort into finding who you really are? i don't even know who you are, but this screwedupactingsingingdancing pastiche quoting random show tunes is standing in front of me. i can see through your ways, and i know you just want attention. you're living in a fantasty world where you're trying to get everyone to love you.

wake up.

i wish you put more effort into me when you were at college.

i wish you would get on your knees and thank god for all the 235325 fortunes you do have, everytime you cry over your "A-" in honors math. if you're looking for me to tell you how smart you are, i've got no sympathy.

i did not autonomously become who i am today. all of you made me into this - none of you have a piece of yourself in me, and i hope you never will.

watching and observing you every day makes me only desperately want to never be like you. i never want to use comments on myspace pics to make me feel loved, i never want to sell my soul to achieving worthless numbers on papers, i never want to ignore my friend because i moved a few hundred miles away. i'm not going to be fake. i'm not going to pretend to like someone to his face and then wait until he turns his back to complain about him. to his best friend.

get a life.

PS: stop reminding me it's almost your birthday.

i wish i hadn't seen all of the realness

Sun, 10 Sep 2006 22:39:55 GMT

i don't feel good.

the newspaper is littered with tributes and commemorations and various regarding september eleventh. i wasn't personally affected by it, thankfully, but i don't know... i think the world is taking two steps back rather than advancing. we have people who still hate, and they now have the means to express the hate in considerably more bigger and catastrophic ways. i might have a rudimentary delineation of it, but in prehistoric times, cavemen just charged at one another with sticks (there has to be some accuracy in that). hurray for the twenty-first century and its nuclear weapons. it's another feat we can thank america for, along with potato chips and microwaves.

i was eleven when it happened, and my dad worked in manhattan at the time. he watched the planes fly into the towers, and i wonder if he's been emotionally scarred since. as far as i'm concerned, nothing drastic actually happened to him, but i've seen enough images in my fifteen years that have hurt me with every day. concerning 911, i never asked him how he's doing, but i hope he's well. he doesn't know this exists, but for some reason, i think if i write that down on livejournal, he'll know i'm thinking about it and tell me it's okay.

i'd like to believe i don't hate anything or anybody (and last year, i came real close to hating this kid, derrick trejillos, but i don't see him anymore, and i guess you can't hate something you can't see. so, in reality, i've never really hated). however, i can't help but be frightened when people i know and love are in new york city or on an airplane. i hate (...) how such thoughts cross my mind almost weekly, if not daily, and i abhor those responsible for these thoughts. i don't pride myself in being well-informed in the grand scheme of things, but something tells me fifteen-year-olds weren't supposed to live in relentless fear of having their beloveds detonated.

it's strange how it's so hard to speak sometimes. i never used to have difficulties talking about anything, but through the years, i've developed -- i don't know, concern? it's not the actual words that are hard to say, but it's for fear of the aftermath. come what may, words can change a relationship forever. i used to always immediately speak what was on my mind, but now i consider the repercussions, and i don't know if i prefer that. is it better to harbor ancient thoughts (and in my case, eventually forget them and so never say them) or jeopardize a dear affiliation? i think i'll have to ask people if they want me to be completely honest with them and make them sign a contract stating i'm not wholly at fault for screwing up a relationship because after all, they asked for my injurious integrity.

i've read too many books lately. i can almost understand why leaders are afraid of these texts and the knowledge carried within and the madness behind putting a match to them. i've rediscovered how damn spoiled i really am, and i repeated a promise i had a few years ago - i'll have to make something of my life. i desperately want to believe everyone who lived and died an unfair and unjust life was compensated in some way, with a bravura afterlife or reincarnated as an exalted something, but if they weren't, i have to be something momentous. for a reason i probably won't ever know, i was presented with a superb opportunity, and i will beyond doubt be taking it.

i just have to figure out how.

(this entry was too astute for my liking, so i will lighten up the mood and inform the public i baked lasagna last night, cheers!)

they'll tell you everything you wanted someone else to say

Mon, 31 Jul 2006 04:34:54 GMT

"yes, it's true, that i believe
i'm weaker than i used to be.
i wear my heart out on my sleeve,
and i forget the rest of me.

yes, there's times i've been afraid,
and there's no harm in that i pray,
cause i'm more frightened every day

we said see you later to izzy yesterday. andre already left on saturday, and i had to say partings to fernando over the damned phone.

after we watched a walk to remember, which was lauren's stupid ass idea that i'll kick her for, izzy's mom came to retrieve her. we all cried, but i didn't shed many tears. i repeat to everyone she'll be back in two weeks, and it appears i've even convinced myself that two weeks is nothing. it's true, izzy will be back in a mere two weeks to visit. but what happens then? what happens after those two weeks come and go and she leaves until christmas?

i have so many reasons for christmas to come. while this summer is in the running for the best in my life, it also runs close for being the saddest. alas, tomorrow is the anniversary of my grandfather's death. i can't even think about it. it's been five years, and i still can't think about it. thoughts that last for over ten seconds of my grandfather exhaust the hell out of me. i try not to hate myself, but i get repulsively disgusted when i look in the mirror sometimes. writing is my only outlet where i can be truly honest with myself, but i've never been able to even write down my thoughts about him. i've never told anyone what really happened, and it's a god awful secret i hope doesn't have to live only inside of me forever.

a lot will happen when christmas comes, and it will undoubtedly bring a smile to my face. christmas was never about the birth of the baby jesus but something entirely different, sorry jesus. it'll never be about the presents i get or days off from school. well, christmas is a little bit about winter break. still, it'll always be the feeling, the lights, and decorating the tree while listening to nothing but holiday songs, and then the ice skating. shopping in the city and buying roasted nuts (i love my roasted nuts), and cozying by the fireplace and reading calvin and hobbes. and it appears it's the only time my mother, dad, brother, and sister will be together, sleeping in the same house again. last year, however, david couldn't even come, but this christmas will be different; i'll die to get everyone together.

happy monday, kiddos."

PS: that was weird. ;'/: punctuation; apologies.

alack, alack.

Tue, 25 Jul 2006 00:28:39 GMT

i still like him, but he doesn't like me.

a look into the past

Wed, 19 Jul 2006 17:25:05 GMT

hiding from my own website right now. instead of writing a whole lot of nothing there, i'm going to write a whole lot of nothing here. joy to the world!

the day school ended for this year, i dropped all my crap as soon as i walked into the front door and proceeded to begin a kickass summer, leaving those notebooks to be gone and forgotten until september strolled by. alas, nearly everyone who entered the front door tripped over them (they are obviously a burden on everyone, and no good can come out of them), so they had to be relocated to my room. they were piled upon my eighth grade crap, making a big mountain of crap. yesterday, i stuffed two years of education into a really dirty purple bookbag, so now people can actually walk into my room. and i was so proud of myself for being so productive.

no really, i'm not kidding. i should have gotten a medal.

sigh.

so, the other day i was sorting through archives of old blogs from unforgettable.

i was such a weird kid.

not to say i'm not now...

i wrote on that website for over a year, totaling 217 posts, and i found three entries where i genuinely complained. i don't do that often because i don't know many people who want to listen to them, and most of the things i think about are inane. it's still hard to believe 3/217 posts held a grudge! i began blogging to vent - it seems to be the motive for every blogger's existence - but uh, i didn't really do that right. i was such an uplifting, optimistic person. i hate to think i'm just a cynical nothing now who thinks too much. and my excessive thoughts don't even make an ounce of sense.

sigh... twice.

i actually apologized for complaining the few times i did, as if being out of character was wrong, and i needed to be sorry about it. i think i wish i was like that again.

evidently, i was in quite the mood during march.

031405: let me feel again

been dead lately, yes. been trying to follow through on the concept of that swanky phrase, "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say it at all," or something like that. i've never actually been one to believe that. who cares if you spare someone's feelings for a day when you can just get thoughts out in the open? why can't this world be honest?

???

this won't be a short, nor exciting post. a bitter post might be a better way of putting it. some people ask me why do i write if i repeatedly say i don't need people reading this particular post, that they're better off reading something else for now, that i don't push for comments. i suppose i complain about this subject too much, but how come so many people want comments? does it make them feel special? truthfully, i don't know why i write sometimes. it makes me feel better when i'm not quite ready to rejoin the human race, that i can just sit here, writing.

i might actually be on the brink of failing math. a year ago and back, i was extremely bothered if i didn't meet my personal goals. i was slightly agitated if i didn't meet my parents' hopes for me, but only because i felt like i've disappointed them, not because i felt like i was disappointing myself. i got, in the eyes of others, yet another "horrid" grade today. the odd part about this? my reactions; i'm numb. i haven't felt emotion after receiving math grades since the beginning of the school year. i got an eighty-eight and then some on evaluations, which are considered fine, but i felt nothing. whatever. i get a sixty-two, and i don't feel any different from when i got the eighty-eight.

what's wrong with me? why can't i bring myself to feel accomplished or feel like a failure? i'm totally numb in math. i'm starting to lose interest in other subjects as well. i did above average on a language arts test, i felt only a two-second moment of triumph. i found out today i did the best out of over a hundred students on another test.

i felt nothing.

it can be scary to know that you're losing determination and focus at such an age. i still care about my future, and i know i can be intelligent if i want to be. it's not as if i haven't been trying in math either, but where has the frustration gone?

i don't want help either. i grew up as an individual, learning to solve problems myself. i used to ask for help, but either i wasn't important enough at the time or my problem was too insignifcant or silly. it's good to be independent, but sometimes i wish i had more co-dependence when i was younger. i don't feel like getting help right now. what's anyone going to do, anyway? drown me in words of seemingly consoling and reassuring - lies?

i hope i can save myself before it's too late. letting grades slip in one area for two months won't ruin my future, my opportunity on life. however, it might not be long before i decide to forget this headache and when history recurs once more, i could just as well fail to realize it.

"if we do not remember the past, we are condemned to repeat it."

i didn't have anything witty to say today. i could've written about my lovely weekend, which i thank many people for making it such a great weekend. today was a great day too, i felt normal, i wish i felt like that everyday.

have a great monday, everyone. :D i'll be optimistic tomorrow, a possible, soon-to-be, broken promise.

doesn't it scare you your will is not as strong as it used to be?

032105: make me different

attempt to be somewhat more lightening, yay spring. it'd be nice to know you can wear shorts outside where people don't think you're crazy for dressing in such a way when it's thirty degreeish weather out (what? no, of course i've never done that).

ehh. some people cheated on some standarized test, so now we are entailed to retake them. i don't know, i don't really care. it's really just a pass or fail kind of test, do good or do bad. the fact that i have a high school to attend, and my classes are no longer determined by junior high academics is making me a happy person and getting me by, so why bother? it's quite the problem if that's really how i think and feel ...which, very much regrettably, it is. it's that exact announcement that repeats in my mind seconds on end that is causing my collapse.

so why bother?

i unquestionably aim to get into college. swelling my parents and siblings with pride, and just the thought that their youngest daughter or little sister can actually do something besides waste her life away on the computer doesn't sound too bad. it really doesn't. perchance they've been mildly impressed at other, "worthless" capabilities, but never in my eyes has my intellect really been able to infiltrate that "wow" radar of parents.

colleges don't pay much mind to marks prior to high school. "oh look, she got a niney-three back in eighth grade, we can't accept her." why do i try so hard? so i can try to be better than everyone else? is that why people ask others what they got on an evaluation? to feel higher and superior? knowing someone's grades won't raise or lower yours. it's essentially a proven reality, i'm sorry.

sometimes i wish we could just start over. thankfully, it's a wish come true. in high school, i don't have to be the person i designed for myself eight years ago. i will be in a school with complete strangers; new people to meet. i'll be a fresh individual, and i'll actually be that sharp person that when people come to ask her a question, she can answer it.

happy monday and a merry vernal equinox to all.

clearly, mondays are a timelessly bad day.

when i read old posts, i feel like i'm scrooge with the ghost of christmas past watching myself.

and boy, how i'd like to smack that kid silly.

and how i wish it was christmas.

and i had some ice cream.

(check!)

Fri, 23 Jun 2006 15:14:16 GMT

DESERT ROSE

COME SEPTEMBER

nothing worthwhile to say, so i drew crap and took others' words instead. :) très clickable. sunset and rose by david, fire by moi.

happy friday.

hello and goodbye

Wed, 21 Jun 2006 03:06:17 GMT

my life isn't worth your time.

but i won't just leave you hanging there since you went all the way here, probably disappointed with no thoughts to read. as an alternative, i recommend where the red fern grows by wilson rawls, because it's my favorite book ever.

even though it's for like nine year olds. but that's how old i am at heart.

[grabaduck.com] for my non-existent wit.
[xanga.com] for my thoughts and vents. and because i'm asian.

good day. :)

"STAND"

PS: i've been thinking (hey, that's new). and i've decided this is fact: i don't know how i'm going to do it, but i'm going to change the world. pray i'll change it for the better, otherwise... what the hell, there's mars, right?

right.