Enlighten Me, Muse

I’ve been feeling rather insipid as of late; I’m convinced it’s a side-effect of being on summer vacation after having such an assiduous year. Strangely, though, I’ve been quite busy these past few days, but these outings are just too… formal -- Reunions with family friends, rendezvous with business partners, etc. when, in truth, I simply want to go swim with the duckies living in the pond behind my house. Ah, to be a duckie, what a glorious life it would be!

Lately, I’ve been trying to re-hone my creative character -- I seem to have lost that ingenuity due to my narrow-minded goal for academic perfection, something that I have now concluded to be futile and a waste of my youth. You only live once. After receiving an 89 in Organic Chemistry Lab instead of the desired 90, I realized how trivial these numbers are to my life. My personality and desire to contribute in an industry should mean more to the ADEA than a series of arbitrary digits. Even if they reject my applications, I have back-up plans anyway. Presently, not becoming a lifeless zombie like so many of my other friends is of utmost importance to me. I want my childhood back!… So I started on an array of new projects recently.

Instead of spending hundreds of dollars on a birthday present that I don’t even know if my friends will like, I decided to make them something. Eight pairs of earrings were made to be distributed -- Dangling origami stars made of gift-wrapping ribbons attached to a silver hook. Blood was shed for these earrings because joining the star and the hook together is quite tricky and the instruments used were of primitive origin.

Back in the good ole’ days when my dad was still studying for his PhD, my family couldn’t afford the luxuries we take for granted today. I would always make my Valentine’s Day gifts instead of buying them like my classmates. In 4th grade, I made chocolate roses out of Hershey’s kisses for my peers. The chocolate was obtained from trick-or-treating on Halloween; the stems made from grocery store twist ties I had previously grabbed a handful of whilst my mom was shopping; the green tape borrowed from our apartment neighbor; the red, plastic wrap from Saran wrapped cookies I had received from my friends; the leaves from my mother’s fake ornamental plants she had lying around our apartment; and the boxes for these roses folded myself from white cardboard paper I received free from my 3rd grade teacher. Since Father’s Day is coming up, I figured I’d make him 2 dozen of these chocolate roses. I’ve only managed to finish 6 thus far, albeit, at least I have appropriate materials to use this time.

My mother’s birthday is coming up in late June -- She’s turning a lovely age of 52. I’m making her a wind chime made out of origami and family pictures. I’ll upload a picture once I’ve managed to complete the project.

Yesterday, I mustered enough courage to take out my collection of Prismacolor® colored pencils, which I haven’t touched in much too long a time. I was slightly nervous that I had lost my artistic abilities, but I think the self-portrait turned out moderately well. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll muster enough courage to take out my acrylics; I haven’t painted in well over 2 years. Or maybe finish that pottery painting I left incomplete 6 years ago…

But until then -- More shopping to be done tomorrow morning.

Au revoir my little munchkins’!

It Came With a Bang

Ever have moments where revelations just hit you with a sudden bang, as if someone whacked you upside the head with a frying pan? Alright, maybe not so grotesque but nevertheless. Today was an unusual day of sorts; perhaps it's due to the fact that I only slept for 3 hours the night before.

I went to the mall today for new clothes even though I can't entirely afford such indulgences currently, but I desperately needed new jeans. Consequently, I purchased 2 pairs of jeans, 1 skirt, and 3 unbelievably adorable tops totaling a sizable $138.

For the past 3 years I loathed shopping for clothes -- It seemed to be more of a chore than a luxury. Now that I reflect on that disposition, I realize why: My darling mother. Much like my mother's foul perception of what defines intelligence, her assessment as to what denotes beauty is likewise as skewed. I've always had artistic, creative, and intuitive intellect but none of that "book-smart" flair. Growing up under the shadows of my closest friends who'd been valedictorians, saludatorians, etc. had never served to uplift my already depraved self-esteem, especially since my parents place so much emphasis on being the best. As for beauty, looking like one of those Victoria Secret models would elate my mother beyond belief. That's not to say she doesn't consider me beautiful; she has, however, quite a few times insisted that I skip meals so I'll become the "skinny person" I once was, which left me feeling disgusted about my self-image -- I am fat and ugly, and no one will ever love me. My love for shopping soon slipped away, and I became repulsed at anything that would reveal a smidgen of my skin -- Hooded, over-sized jackets and t-shirts became my favoured articles of clothing. Primping became taboo.

Today, 3 years later, I realize how much I shouldn't care about what my mother perceives as beauty. I love my body. I'm not fat, but I'm not starving, either. I'm "curvacious" as many of my friends have commented. I am capable of doing a dress justice whereas others aren't. I have muscles, not merely skin and/or bones. That being said, my new wardrobe differs drastically from that of before, and I'm delighted I no longer fear what others may think and let that directly affect how I feel about myself.

I'm beautiful, and that's all there is to it.

Additionally, intellect is not solely based on how much of the textbook material you can regurgitate in a minute whilst having a conversation that pertains to a specific subject; it's the maturity and rationality of your statements in reference to the subject.

I'm an intellegent being and I will never let anyone tell me otherwise again.

Faux Pas

I seem to have a penchant for discommodious faux pas and hence, I shall resort to sharing a past social blunder, merely for entertainment purposes for whom are stressed after a hard week's work.

Like most preteens, I had many extracurricular activities spread across my compact time schedule, which included the swim team (among others); like all the other preteens on the swim team, I needed multiple swimsuits so that I may wear one to Tuesday's event, while Monday's swimsuit was in the washer, and so on; and like most preteens, I was a miniature manikin for my mother who chose everything from the type of hairstyle I had to the design of the embroidery on my socks. So, after I enrolled in the Austin YMCA Swim Team, my mom immediately took the admittance as a greenlight signal to start shopping for the "perfect" swimsuits.

The first swimsuit she bought was a one-piece -- purple and made of velvet-- I didn't complain. The second was also a one-piece -- pink with white polka-dots-- Still didn't complain. The third was, again, one-piece -- pink with multi-colored rainbows stretched across every inch of the fabric -- I complained a little because it made me look ridiculous. Just hand me a big, red rubber nose to wear and I could definitely pass for an over-zealous circus clown. The fourth and last swimsuit my mom bought was a strapless two-piece -- teal-blue and black with ruffled fabric -- I COMPLAINED, but, of course, my mom wasn't going to return it because she liked it. So, at age 10, I wore my first strapless two-piece swimsuit.

Come Friday a few months later, I scavenge through my laundry looking for any of my other 3 swimsuits to wear to the competition. Failure prevailed. I was left staring at that teal-blue and black swimsuit in disgust; I probably wouldn't have hated it so much if it actually had straps for support.

Having won that night's swim meet remarkably, I was quick to jump out of the pool after the competition was over, forgetting that I was wearing that dreadful swimsuit. And the next thing I knew, half the audience was gasping. Apparently, I had lost my top to the greedy pool monster in that upward burst of propulsion. People ask me why I don't wear two-piece swimsuits nowadays, I'll tell you why: Bad Experience. At that point, I would have rather stood in front of the crowd in my multi-colored rainbow swimsuit wearing a big, red rubber nose doing the funky chicken dance whilst singing my ABC's than the status quo.