Okay so if I had to pick a day and time to be re-inspired to start journaling, 4am the week before finals week would not be it. But since I’ve already begun writing, let me thoughts direct my fingertips!
For starters, I’m fending off a cold that I’m sure is not the most resilient strain, just the luckiest S.O.B. of the bunch to land an immune system poorly taken care of and constantly overwhelmed with superhuman demands to function at optimal speed without 8 hours of sleep. At this rate I will never get better. My cough brings up no phlegm, which is nice because I won’t sound disgusting to my neighbors in my classes, but it takes its toll on the walls of my esophagus. At times like these I wish ben and jerry’s had flavors like ‘Pho’ and ‘Shepherd’s Pie’.
Instead, in an effort to maximize my dining dollars budget, I purchased cheap but hard snacks like pretzels to satiate my hunger but scratch the sensitive parts of my food pipe. Like my mother, I’ve come to appreciate how every penny saved grants a kind of assurance, stability and power from fantasizing what that lump sum could buy. These projections will never be fulfilled, but being able to even have options is a luxury I realize I don’t mind having.
Back to finals week- I’ve covered enough ground in all of my subjects to alleviate most of the stress and panic. I think it’s pure torture leaving everything to the last minute when your exam grades determine 40% of your grade.
I was going to write more but my cough has started to get worse, so tomorrow it is.
Hello again, Tumblr. <3
Why do we naturally resent authority? I can feel resistance building in every fiber of my being when my dad starts asserting his authority. When he stands in the doorway shouting about how he has every right to stand there and demand my approval of him tightening the apron strings around my wrists, I bristle at every word. I mean, when you’re that upset everything you hear no longer carries arbitrary but specific meaning. Every attempt I make to scaffold my resistance, my visible restraint - he just goes ballistic. How am I, a second-generation Korean-American college girl - supposed to appease him in a manner that clears that air and leaves room for both our egos to remain intact? Talk about bridging cultural, language and not to mention GENDER-ROLE-SPECIFIC divides.
I resist, I despise.
Venting? Venting is pointless.
I still think about those video cassettes you’d rent from blockbuster, where amidst the conflict the troubled child simply throws a tantrum at the top of the stairs, threatening to move out - and then somehow the parents feel so guilt-ridden by their failing parenting skills that gravity causes them to fall to their knees so they can have a civil discussion with the child about their behavior at eye-level in order to maintain one big happy Ohana. This is the world I live in, but live without. My dad would laugh and criticize those parents in front of me if he watched the tape with me, then he’d turn to me and say if I called the cops on him it’d be on my conscience. Venting?
I’m sure if I were to try that, I might as well find myself sleeping on asphalt for the night.