Category Archives: Confessions

Update: Summer is Over and School Has Started!

Wow, I had so much more planned for this. My mind definitely works better at night. I was going to go on and on about how my summer went and how school is starting soon.

I can’t believe how fast everything went this year. I was hoping for more. But like always, I’m sucked into doing so much more for others and not enough for me. I need to save up for next summer. I want to do something fun for myself. I say this but it may not even happen. I need to get these next three and a half years done first.

I think the excited thing about college is the classes I am going to take. I cannot wait to learn everything I’m going for.

So I am scared and worried that I maybe going back for no reason. I’m scared that I am wasting money and time on school. But I know that I shouldn’t be feeling this way. I should be confident about my life choices.

I want to be a writer, I want to be an editor, I want to start a publishing company, and I want to start a cafe with books in it!

My English major is important to me. Going for business is important, going for philosophy and psychology is important. I want all of this. But summer makes me forget everything.

It’s been a while since I’ve written. It was so hard. With work in the middle of the day, I couldn’t think of writing in the mornings before work and writing after work. I was making excuses of having to get ready, and needing to wind down from all the customers I had to deal with in that day.

But since school has started, I can feel the motivation come back. My progress of writing may still be slow but it will be more frequent than this summer. Trying to juggle work and school is hard, but writing is such a big passion for me. I’m not going to let go of it just like that.

Even if I feel like a lot of people don’t get my goals of wanting to be a writer, I want to show them that I can have this dream and get to the finish line.

 

Hard to be Happy

It is hard to be happy.

I should just stop trying.

But there is a reputation to uphold!

Who the fuck cares about a reputation!

But wait, who am I really doing this for?

Why the hell do I even try to be so nice to everybody for?

Oh yea…

Those people who conceived, birthed, and took care of me till now.

They are the only reason why I am still living at home, why I still act nice to our other family members, the only reason why I haven’t fallen back into my deep hole of depression.

But it is so hard…

When they can’t let go of the past.

When they can’t stop caring about how everybody else views them.

It makes it hard for them to be a happy person.

Thus, making it hard for me to be a happy person.

Life Goal: Going Bald/Buzz Cut

Tonight I feel like going crazy. I’ve been thinking about life goals all day. I want to be bald once in my life. I don’t care if I’ll be judged. I don’t care about all the negativity that will be involved after. I just want to live my life the way I want to.

I’ve been considering it since 2012 and now I can’t stop thinking about it. This choice of mine is making me go crazy.

The only thing I’m seeking now is support.

What would people say.. This short Asian girl. Being Bald…

 

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…)

Deeper Than Just a Body Image

Recently I got my sixth and seventh ear piercings. I know it isn’t real big news, but to me it is. For a Hmong girl who is supposed to be a good girl, it is big.

When I got my first three piercings, other than my first “normal ones”, a lot of people were disappointed in me. At that time I could see why. I was supposed to be the good girl.

I still am a good girl. Compared to all of the other girls my age, I think I am doing pretty well. It’s not like I am out every night with my “gangster friends” (I have one best friend and she is the daughter of a very respected man in our town, she isn’t perfect, but compared to other girls, she is the best of the bunch), I don’t get shit face drunk every weekend, there is no cigarette hanging off my mouth, and I don’t even have a boyfriend.

I’ve come to realize that there is no reason to be disappointed in the way I want my body to look. I am not trying to impress them, I am not trying to impress boys, and I would not go that desperate for attention.

The earrings are there to represent things. Things I have overcome and the goals I have yet to reach. They have a reason and I don’t think I should have to explain them to anyone.

I want people to like me for me. Not for my body or what I do with my body. I want someone to notice how weird I am and still decide to stay by my side.

Honestly, these are not the last piercings I will be doing. I still have goals of at least three to five more. I’m sure more people will be disappointed to hear that I plan on getting tattoos too. (Yeah, they have reasons too.) It won’t change me. It’s not like I will be a different girl at the end of the day.

I will still be Lucy.

 

Another Honest Topic

My family makes me mad. Which is kind of childish but when it deals with my personal life
of happiness than it is a big deal.

This does not have to do with my parents or my siblings. They are a different story which I
have yet to write out.

My aunts, uncles, and cousins. All of them drive me up the wall. The last time all of us
saw each other we all left on a bad note. Everybody went their own ways with no
intentions of fixing things up with the people who they twisted.

I’m not sure how everybody else did after those events but it left me in a dark hole. So
dark I could not see any light. Of course I don’t live that way anymore, but
there is still a veil to reminding me of what passed and can never be healed.

It’s been almost over two years now, which should make the situation better and less
annoying. Time heals and I feel ready for another family reunion where things
can go well. I want it to happen, because despite all the horrible things in
the past, I miss those idiots.

I feel as if even though I try to make progress to overcome my fears there are still those
who are clinging on to the past. Which has become apparent to me after these
past few weeks.

The family in question. I love them to death and truth be told they stuck with me through all
my hard times. I never made them uncomfortable though and made sure they had a
way out when others were being uncontrollable.

At this moment I cannot help but be uncomfortable in the position they are putting me
in. My cousin is getting married, to someone who is not Hmong, so I assume they
will be doing a formal American wedding. I am happy for her and her decisions.

But…

Here it is. The big deal breaker for me. They must need phone numbers to contact family
members to tell them of the news. Plus on top of that, needing addresses to
send out invites.

I can understand. BUT! Do they have to ask me for addresses and phone numbers which
do not belong to me?

Is the internet not right there in the face? Is Facebook not working on their computer? Are my
cousins not able to write a simple letter to the certain people they want to
contact?

Is it so hard to overcome this hate for a happy situation?

I may be putting things out of content. Seriously though…

Why do they have to make it harder than it seems to ask for those things? We are all family
and should accept family requiring that information at times. But get those
information from the person in question themselves and not from someone else.

I seriously had to go and ask the family members myself for their info for my cousin…
Which is what got me mad. Something so simple but they make it so hard and have
to nag me for.

I gave them all the info the first time and they had to lose it. Hence asking me a second
time. Why is it they don’t learn from their mistakes…?

When family ask of me for my own information I give it to them freely. Sure I would wonder
but I give them full confidence to not use it against me.

No more of this. I am done with it. I will continue my silence for my own happiness.