Memories

My laptop broke for the 4th time this year today. It is a Dell XPS M1330, red, fully decked out, quite cute, but unreliable! Service technicians have come over twice and I have even had it shipped to Texas to have it fixed. This time, it dropped one foot from my lap to the ground, and the entire XPS panel came off revealing the chips and wires inside. I know laptops aren’t mean to be dropped, but this one is so fragile! Maybe it is time to let it go.

Ok, the real reason I’m writing this post isn’t because my laptop broke. Of all the events that have happened in my life in the past year, my laptop breaking yet another time is more of a mundance everyday occurance.

I’m writing simply because I don’t feel like doing else.

It’s one of those days where it’s just hard to get started. There are things to do, places to go, but the motivation to move is lacking. The paradox is, I actually really want to feel motivated, productive, and alive again. But there’s another part of me that feels comfortable remaining stagnant.

I miss writing. I miss playing tennis, playing piano, going to math tournaments. I miss being able to sing out loud without having to worry about disrupting people around me or being heard at all for that matter. I miss driving by myself in my beetle and playing Stacie Orrico. I miss my family. I miss having my own room and my own privacy. I miss Chinese Club–fridays after school to just relax, talk to wise Mrs. Huie, and plan fundraisers with friends. I miss high school. Basically, today is one of those days I miss the time that has past. Usually I spend my time looking forward to the future, thinking about all the things I can do in the and all the freedom and new experiences that have yet to come. But yesterday, before I went to sleep, I wondered why I did that. What if the best part of life, the happiest time in my life, was back in the day when I was a child living in the comfort of my parent’s care? I wish I could go around and ask random people at various stages in their life when their happiest time was/is. I think I asked my mom before, but I can’t quite remember what she said. But I guess it is kind of silly to ask such a question. The happiest time of life is inevitably going to vary with each person.

I was also thinking about David’s friend who died last year. He was young, healthy, filled with life and purpose (and good looking). But he died one day out of the blue. Leo says that people appreciate life most when someone young dies suddenly. You suddenly realize how fragile life is, how ephemeral. One split second, one wrong choice, one cruel twist of fate…But, you know? People cared about this guy. Even to this day, people are still posting messages on his facebook wall, telling him about things going on in their life and how much they miss him and wish he was there to take part in it. I think about the people in my life and wonder if people would miss me that much. Have I been a good enough friend and a good enough person to deserve their thoughts months or years after I have passed? Or would people simply be sad because I was young and didn’t get a chance to live. I know that I’ve been really sad about this guy. I never knew him, but I’ve cried at least twice whenever I’ve thought of him. The sadness of the people who loved him and will never be able to see him or talk to him again really gets me. I think that the thing I’m most scared about death is how much hurt and sadness I’ll leave behind for my family. I think that if my parents and the people I loved were not around, dying wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.

By the way, I think my parents discovered my website a while ago so I haven’t been too eager to write on this. I hope they don’t think I’m suicidal hahaha. Which reminds me, in social psychology today, Professor Bargh mentioned that it’s really hard for guys to say “I love you” to their dads. I thought about it and it’s true. Imagine a brother or a guy friend saying “I love you” to their dad. Seems kind of mushy, huh? I’m a girl and it’s kind of hard for me too because I haven’t been accustomed to voicing it as I’ve grown up. But Mom, Dad, if you are reading this, I really love you guys. =)

I’ve stopped importing what I write here to my facebook, by the way. I feel like that way, only the people who really care about me and my life will take the extra effort to come here and read what I have to say. My entries are also more private this way (even though it is on the web available for the whole world to see, hah). And I feel more comfortable writing here. Back in the day, when I was young and obsessed with xanga, I cared about how many people would read what I had to say. I loved getting comments and “eprops.” But these days, maybe it’s just because I’m getting old, I really don’t care anymore whether people read this. I almost don’t want people to read this. Today, I write for myself.

In other news, so I remember this when I’m old and nostalgic, my first Yale China Care Dumplings playgroup took place this past Saturday. Only three children showed up out of the 14 that RSPVed but I feel that it was really successful nonetheless. The kids received a lot of attention and I think they had a lot of fun. The parents were also very appreciative. We made paper crafts with them, told the story of the origin of the Chinese zodiac, gave them hong bao, taught them to say gong xi fa cai, played red light green light, etc. It was lots of fun and refreshing to be around young kids again.

I am also thinking about taking voice lessons. I’m not a very good singer, but that hasn’t prevented me from loving to sing. In college, you never have the privacy to sing! I tried singing in the shower before, but my roomates informed me afterwards that everyone could hear me. Embarassing si le.

Anyways, I think I should wrap up. Maybe I’ll start writing here regularly again. It helps me sort out my thoughts, leaves me feeling content and peaceful, and definitely provides good reading material for when I am old. =) Peace out world.

Love,

M