Monthly Archives: May 2014

Pros and Cons of Love

There must be something wrong with me. I can’t read about love the same way I did when I was younger. When I was younger I believed the impossible, and now that I’ve aged I still want to believe it, but I find it to be foolish.

I’m currently reading ‘Eleanor and Park’, by Rainbow Rowell. The book mentions how the kids are learning about ‘Romeo and Juliet’ in class. Ever since then, I can’t help but see Eleanor and Park’s love story as another ‘Romeo and Juliet’.

They are starting to fall in love. Such young love.

Was it because my lack of love lines that made me become immune to love stories?

Did I not get enough love when I was younger that I have become ill when love is mentioned?

First love can be such a strong phrase.

I did enjoy ‘The Fault in our Stars’ by John Green. But I don’t think it was the love story that pulled me in. It was the truth in the story of having cancer and overcoming it to have a normal life.

Love does not make me cry the same way it did in the past. Romance does not make me cry like it used to. There is no bubbly excitement anymore..

Maybe it is because I don’t believe in easy love. Is it really that easy to fall in love?

I rather believe in the love were two individuals find themselves love in the random people and fight for that love.

I want them to question that love. And beyond all the reasons against them, for them to still love each other.

I want big arguments that pull out all the hidden feelings. I want little moments of cuddles and light kisses. I want handholding and quiet walks. I want to be held and assured of the others feelings.

Writing love stories is really hard for me. To overcome this I’m going to have to dig deep.

I am starting to see the irony in this writing. Eleanor and Park is what I want in love. Two random people finding love in each other. Now I just have to keep reading to see how they keep that love.

I am extremely jealous of those who can find love. I see people in love with a deep friendship and I want that for myself.

With love, I am a big contradiction. I love ‘love’, and I want to find love. At times I will wish for love desperately. But most of the time I cannot stand it. I want nothing to do with love and I know I will spend the rest of my life alone. I can never choose and at times mention both wanting love and wanting nobody in the same sentence.

It is like now where I sit at school. With an r&b song blasting at one side and a soulful ballad coming across from the other side. I’m here stuck in the middle, indecisive of which song I like more.

So should I open myself up to the kind of love I want or should I stay in my shell of never falling in love?

I don’t know…

Maybe it is all the stories I see around me. All the relationships around me are not perfect but they work. There are times when I see the good in love and times when I see the bad.

Maybe I should stop worrying about all the relationships around me and worry about me. Who cares what other people see in love. I should worry about how I see love.

I want to see the good in love and I should give myself that right. My yearly goal is to never say negative things. I work hard on that and it really has improved my positivity in life. My half-year goal (just made that up right now!) is to fall in love with love again.

 

The Way The World Sees Me

I’ve been generalized for my height, ethnicity, and gender. I have all the traits of what our world is constantly at differences with.

There is no lie that I am viewed differently for having black hair, almond eyes, and
different skin texture. I’ve encountered many people in my life where I am
judged first for my looks. I’ve walked the halls of high school with boys
mocking a language that is not my own. I’ve dealt with toddlers asking their
parents why I look the way I look. They don’t even have to ask their parents,
their stare that follows me is enough. I know for sure I am treated differently
at work with certain customers.

With my gender comes my ethnicity. There are always downfalls on how men treat their
women in different cultures. In my culture, if there is a traditional
gathering, women will cook the meals and set the table for the men. Women do
not get to sit with the men though; they set their own table in the kitchens
and eat there. Our chores/life goals are different. We are grown to be the
perfect daughter-in-law, practicing kitchen work since young. Our life goal is
to marry into a good family and birth many children for our husbands.

My height is more of a personal one. I cannot count how many times I get words thrown at me
about my height.

“Do you want to stand up now?”

“Can you even see over that?”

How are people able to live with themselves and say these types of words..

I love my height. I would not be the same person without it.

I noticed that I do seem to write negatively at times. So on a lighter note, I’m going to
write my positive thoughts on these generalizations.

I love being Asian and would not change it any other way. It is my way of being unique in
this plain world. I don’t have many good memories of high school. Although I
wish I did..

One memory I cherish involves a child. I was walking in to the local grocery store to buy
lunch. Walking ahead of me was a couple and their baby. The baby was facing me,
while being held by her father. She looked at me and smiled, giggling the
happiest giggle. I don’t think I ever felt happier. We did eventually go our
separate ways, but it is a memory I don’t plan on forgetting. She was such a
sweet little angel.

I did point out the many ways my culture puts men before women. It is something that should
be fixed. I am glad to hear that in some household, women shares table with men
now. Where there used to be more men dominating the title of Shaman, there is
more women taking that title too now.

Parents do want more for their daughters. It would be great to marry into a good family,
but schooling is more important. They want daughters to do just as well as
their sons.

There isn’t much I can say about my height. The comments are something I am just going to
have to live with. I do live with it. Even though I want to say I am use to
them and they don’t bother me anymore, it would be a lie. Because those
comments still hurt. I try to play it off but it sticks in my mind and I
continue to think about them for a long time afterwards..

Wow, so much for positivity.. I’ll have to try again next time. The memory of others reminding
me of my height is still fresh. (As if I needed a fucking reminder of what I
live with daily…)