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Saturday, June 28, 2008
I love writing and drawing. They both have so many positive attributes. Writing and drawing are both so perfect for expressing emotions. While they're both fantastic, though, sometimes drawing can go farther in-depth than writing, and vice versa. That is all. |
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How beautiful it would be, being uninhibited and brave, reaching out to others in a way no one else can. To be able to say what you want, do what you want, be able to uplift others easily and without doubt. Seeing the poor begging on the streets makes me want to do more than just help them, it makes me want to reach out to them, pull them up into a warm, embracing hug and say "Everything will be okay. And if it's not, you're still alive. You'll be okay." Seeing the blind man stumbling through the subway, cup in his hand jingling quietly, makes me want to stand up, pull him into the vacant seat beside me, wrap my arm around him and tell him "Rest, you've got a long day ahead of you." So many people are unwilling to do the littlest bit they can, myself included. My reasons are feeling shy, naive, embarrassed, the fear of being yelled at. Good reasons, but not good enough in the big picture. Yesterday, on the subway, I stood up with my sister and her friend because we would be getting off at the next stop. A woman sitting three seats down scooted to my seat on the very edge simply because even though she would have to sit next to someone, she wouldn't have to have another on her other side. It seems the corner seats are the most popular in Korea. Why can't people be willing to sit next to a stranger, reach out to them in that small way, just by being there? It offends me when people scoot away from me, as if I'm a parasite, and a parasite that smells, at that. I will do what little things I am brave enough to do just to make the mental and physical gap between strangers that much smaller. I will not scoot away from people on the subway, I will donate money to the poor and unfortunate, I will smile at strangers who look at me curiously, just so they all are aware that I am opening my arms to them, in a hidden but real way. Even if said strangers just think that I'm creepy and/or a pervert. |
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Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Seoul must be so terrifying to a newcomer at first glance. Ichon itself is ENORMOUS with intimidating, gargantuan neon signs flashing their wares in a foreign language, numerous/countless apartments clogging the streets, cars rarely stopping for a light, thousands of tan, skinny, well-dressed, and dark-haired people littering the sidewalks and roads, the constant presence of smoggy, gray air, the lack of any nature whatsoever (besides, maybe, the river), the merchandise stands on the street with loud, nosy employees, and worst of all, the agressive old women, shoving past you on the subway, and making it clear that they do NOT like Americans. Speaking of which, it's not helpful that millions of students are protesting imported meat from America, and probably hate my guts just for being half of the country they're fighting against. I actually saw a shirt that said "I'm afrain of Americans". The mispelling is intentional, believe me. What also must be frightening to outsiders is the subway. If they have never been on it before, it surely must be a nightmare. Waiting at the station for it to come, loudspeakers chime to announce it's arrival. Little do you know that doomsday is around the corner. The maelstrom of artificial wind engulfs you, tugging your clothing and hair away from your body. A low, menacing honk echoes through the passage way as you hear the deafening rumbling of something coming close, and fast. As you cower in fear from the dread of dying so young, you notice that all the Koreans around you are completely calm, reading their newspapers and listening to their MP3 players. The Metal Monster comes barreling down the track, flying past you so quickly that you jump back in surprise. Its shutters open after it slows down to a screeching halt, and you have no choice but to nervously walk aboard, letting the Koreans fight over the only seats left as you stand, clutching onto the handle provided for safety. |
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Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Lia was telling me about how perfect her summer was last year, and I started thinking about the summer I had. I'm sure it won't be the best summer of my life, but thus far in my short existence it was one of the best. Really, it was a summer of firsts. My first boyfriend, the first time someone of the opposite sex told me he loved me, the first time I realized that love shouldn't be used in such a trivial manner, first time that I learned that I was far too immature and unprepared for a relationship, the first breakup, and the first time I lied and hurt someone for my own personal gain. The first summer of getting another best friend, first time I had sleepovers whenever I felt like it, first time I could say anything and not worry about being judged. The first time I ever rode an ATV (and overused the privilege). First summer of being partially accepted by my ward sisters, and the first summer of having a hot book. It was a beautiful, lazy summer, a summer filled with new experiences. While I enjoyed and treasured it, I know that I won't have any more summers exactly like it. Changes occur, and if every summer were similar, they wouldn't be special any longer. I hope the first experiences will lead to many more of the same, sculpting my life into a fascinating piece of art. |
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Sunday, June 8, 2008
Even though I know that I should be ecstatic that I never have to return to Churchill ever again, I feel kind of morose. Churchill is practically my junior high, since Wasatch burned down and it was our building, but if I ever want to visit any of my old teachers, I have to go to the new Wasatch. Driving past Churchill on the freeway will be weird because the relos will all be gone, and the parking lot will look so staggeringly empty. And I am so scared for high school. Absolutely terrified. Skyline is so... big, and it'll be like seventh grade all over again. New, big school, lots of new, big, older students, getting lost in the halls while desperately clutching onto loads of books. Ah, the nerdiness returns. Maybe I'll go back to my seventh grade element and stop plucking and using makeup. Ew. I wonder if they'll give us more than five minutes between classes, seeing as there are like 4 seperate buildings. And I wonder if all my friends will either 1. have forgetten about me or 2. stop talking to me since I won't have seen them all summer. Maybe I'll have to start school with no friends, allllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll over again. Whee. Actually, I'm not that worried about that cause I've got good friends who have my back. Anna has been taking tons of pictures for me while I'm in Korea so that I can relive the memories even though I wasn't part of them, and Celina MIGHT come visit me in Korea. I hope. |
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