"You is your own byear." :)
i write a lot. i have this little notebook that i carry with me everywhere.
porque este mundo es increíble.
i love tumblrs. because people these days are so quick to judge and if you happen upon this site, you get a whole different perspective of someone you thought you knew.
because sometimes we don't speak aloud all we want to say. and written words preserve the moment's intensity.
when i write, i think i look for/ hope someone will disagree with me. because they care enough to engage and sometimes i don't want to believe what i have come to conclude.
i'm self absorbed, passionate, vocal though sometimes internally, stubborn, will argue with you if you don't agree with what i think, interested in multiculturalism race relations psychology cross cultural, still figuring it out
From trying to figure out what i want to do with myself this semester i’ve realized that i place an immense burden on myself and it’s great and works and other times it just doesn’t. The fact that i went to an overachieving high school has clear effects on what i define as success and what i define as pressure. Then again what really does it mean to “overachieve”? Who is creating that label and why does that initial self-pressure come to begin with?
for my education and immigration class we had to read a book about nyc immigrant workers. And reading their stories and their struggles for a better life pales my problems in comparison. I can do it. It’s in our history, in our blood.
-Mom comes in while I’m still sleeping-
Mom: Wake up! How do you spell waffle?
Me: W a f l… W a ff l e s.
Mom: There’s an ‘s’?
Me: In waffles. No ‘s’ in waffle.
Mom: l0l you can do that in your sleep. Dad can’t even spell it when he’s awake.
lool miss my fam
: mom, yknow my school has a program called albright fellows where you work on a global issue in a group and then present to madeleine albright
mom : what if she dies
I’m really excited to start this semester. Apprehensive but positively. I wish I had more time to spend at home. I talked to my grandpa today about his past. My great great grandfather first came here through canada. He made his way down to new york and bought a paper name in chinatown to get him identification in this country. He wrote his son’s name, and so my grandpa’s dad was able to come through. They endured ship rides for over 2 months back and forth. I was secretly recording my grandfather as he was speaking because I know there will come a time when I want to look back on that moment. I have my great great and great grandfathers’ names spoken, and how to write them in chinese. In our culture, relatives are addressed by their relation e.g. “mom’s sister’s husband,” so actual names of people can easily get lost. I don’t know my aunts and uncles’ “English” names and my mom doesn’t know hers. But now I have something.
One with marble floors on the first floor and glass walls looking out into city life
An indoor garden on the rooftop for new urban living so my dad can have a garden year-round
At least 3 floors, maybe 5, with reliable elevators, maybe even escalators
Arts and crafts from the kids program decorated on the walls. A community mural on the outside painted by all of us. English classes and college readiness programs for free or something incredibly affordable. Or teens volunteering with the kids in exchange for free classes. It’ll be a self sufficient community center. Maybe we’ll have a small research and action office. A senior hangout place with open space and windows. Homemade food sold as a constant fundraiser. I saw the first floor of the governeur’s hospital and it was marble and open and empty. Something like that but bigger. Mr Mui said he’d be my lunch lady. My driving teacher said he’d go to my English classes. In exchange I’ll tell him to give free driving lessons to teens. Retired family friends people would see it as a place to frequent almost daily.