Bao's weblog

Icon

Meandering thoughts of a Bay Area college student… be prepared for some bipolar vocabulary

Karen…

I was at Stanford Hospital for the second day in a row. Sitting outside, in the shelter of the umbrella on a chair, listening to this young couple playing cards kinda inspired me. The couple was playing cards in such a carefree manner and the wife kept saying that it’s supposed to be an hour and a half surgery and they were coming up on two hours and a half. They take death so… halfheartedly, as if they won’t let something as small and unimportant as death get in the way of such a beautiful day. And then I thought about friends, and how lucky I was that they’ve never died as of now. And then I thought about how I missed Eddie’s birthday by an hour and bashed myself on how I take many of my friends… “unseriously” enough. So then I wondered if death, by ignoring me, is a friend.

Inspired by my time in Stanford Hospital.

Karen

Death never seems to reach me
It’s a concept I’ve never had to face.
My friends have known death,
My parents have known death
Death seems to live all over the place.

If I knew death of a personal level,
I probably would’ve named him Kevin
Or if death was a girl, then maybe perhaps Karen
Giving death a name

…makes it sound much much friendlier.

Who whould want for death…

To become any deadlier??

Karen would be an old time friend
That I’d’ve parted at age none
Goodbye Karen, I’ll see you soon
Haha, goodbye Bao, have a good life, she crooned.
We cheerfully parted.

Under a soft grey moon.

I came to school one day
to learn that Karen dropped by
Two kids that were speeding hard had instantly died
Karen had taken them to seemingly better places
And their mothers’ cursed her,

They’ll never again see their sons’ faces.

So many people fear death,
It’s a concept meant to be outsmarted
Doctors and medicine
Seatbelts…

airbags…

Anything

to keep us from being parted.

When I look through my window
And see death staring at me in the eye
I’ll say, “Hey Karen,”

and she’ll say “Hi.”

I’ll finish writing, then maybe play a favorite tune
Karen and I will leave together

Under the soft grey moon.

 

Karen in my poem is actually a childhood friend and I just thought she’d make death much less scarier if she’s personified as death.

Another person, famously known as Phoebe Buffay, also makes death seem hilarious! Hard day at work eh?

It only takes two heart attacks
to finally make you see
one of them won’t do it
but the other will set you free.

Tell all your hate and anger
it’s time to say goodbye
And that’s just what I’ll do
as soon as those bastards I work for die.
Lalalalalalalalalala.

I love you guys all very much =]

Filed under: General, Vie, , , , ,

The rape of Bao’s kite

So today, Marcus invited me to fly kites with him. I came and amazingly there were pretty mild temperatures, considering it was summer. Awesome. ANd on my way to Fowler Park, I stopped by my house and brought my ten year old Star Wars kite. That kite has been with me through a lot. Several beaches, countless park flights, and through the 4 houses I’ve been through on my life’s journey to…. here I guess. I made it to Fowler Park, wondering and hoping that it’s the right one, when I saw a solitary rainbow kite flying in the distance. It must be Marcus’s. Since the park was so near damn empty, that one lone kite reminded me of a flag that still manages to fly in a desolate wasteland. How appropriate I thought. Turns out it was. Stanley soon joined us and I got this bright idea to have “Kite Wars!” So basically, we would try to knock each other’s kite to the ground. Off we went ramming our kites into each other. It was my small, old plastic kite versus Marcus’s larger, newer, canvas kite. Yet, despite the odds, my kite repeatedly emerged victorious. I still say the lopsided results were to Stanley’s and my skillful maneuvering.

Victory, however, came at a terrible price. Marcus’s kite left a gash about a foot long in my trusty old kite. Aaaack. We called it quits after that. Leaving our kites on benches, we played this other game I made up. We came over to the water sprinklers and would have to look straight down the hole for ten seconds. After that got boring, and after much splashing around, we played on the playground for about forty more minutes before my ride came.

Soo I’m going to go tape my kite back together again. Bye! =D And look out for Marcus’s blog. He’s gonna write about today…

Filed under: General, Vie, , , , , ,

My Stream of Consciousness.. just typing what i think and don’t be alarmed. I still blame the fucking boy scouts for this one.

(Author’s note: I’ve censored the names of the groups in question. I value my friendships too much whether I should or not. This post refers to Fremont, Evergreen, and maybe a bit of Milpitas)

 

The reason (or at least i think it is the reason) I’ve decided to protect this post is because if you read this, you might be hurt, offended, or the like. Unless you’re a complete stranger, I’d have to thoroughly think this through before I hand you the launch code.

I’ve finally decided… I think I like my ***** friends more. Don’t feel jealous… though you probably won’t give a damn. I don’t know. Lately, lately meaning several months, I sometimes feel as if it’s impossible. My life seems meaningless to everbody, even to me. EVEN TO ME. Like… I’m destined for failure. WHy bother. People talk about UC Berkeley, UC San Diego, UC UC UC. Then there’s me, doubtful whether I’m able to even make it to a state system. Everybody seems so distant. The ones I’m closest to… it seems like it’s the same routine over and over.

It’s probably a mistake to make this post. If I lose my temper, I’ll unwittingly give away this password so I can hurt **…

I always always always feel guilty about something, the smallest things. I have such a weak personality. I am so easily swayed and influence and I’m disgusted at myself. I try so hard to develop a strong personality and a unique character, just for me.

I guess I hate you guys because I’m jealous. All of your enthusiastic plans for the future, all the colleges that are going to accept you… your popular personalities, your raw intelligences. Then there’s me. There’s me. Me, sitting in the corner and studying for the *****Exam I’m sure to fail. Why do I bother? Survival instinct? I’ve been taught that I should never give up, no matter how far below I happen to be. Ha! Taught by war movies several years old. They worked for the soldiers… why not me??

Then there’s piano. I’ve always thought that I was really good with piano. That I was one of the best. haha, hey I’m closing the recital right? But then, there are those other people that simply blow me away. I totally don’t get this. They make me want to give up more and more. The other side tells me to work harder and harder. Strive to beat others! Beat others until they break. Just watch me screw up my recital piece.

My friendly personality is something I also want to get rid of. I have this fucking retarded programming fused in my damn mind to be NICE.

Fuck you you asshole.
Well FUCK YOU TOO!!!
.
..
.
Ey, can you help me with hwk?
… Yeah sure, “Glad to!”

Do I really mean it when I say “Glad to do it!” ? A part of me does. It’s like I was born in this world to be used. Used and then disposed. What about when I ask for help? So many people take me for granted. It’ll take them hours to ask a friend who has the same teacher that I do for the hwk assignment I didn’t jot down because the SAME thing goes through EVERYONE’s minds: Oh it’s just Bao. He can wait. I’m doing him a favor anyways.
And then there’s me, working my ass off explaining how to do each and every single math problem at 1 in the morning to someone, scanning an assignment sheet for someone else, literally doing an essay for someone else while they take a shower, asking all 62 people that are online whether they have a certain teacher for YET someone else… all at once while drowning in precal problems and having French and Chem right after. This, obviously, describes only MOST of the people I know… and I serve.

Probably one of the most sincere quote of flattery I’ve ever received was, “Wow, you’re too nice for your own good.” I have know idea how to take it now, but back then, when life was easy, I’d flash a smile, say thanks, and hold the door open for them while they enter the classroom.

Soo… why do I like my ***** friends more? We were equal. We helped each otherr. When I cried, tissues were tossed at me and hugs were shared… by so many people it seemed. We helped each other, we talked about problems too each other. Edging away as if he/she had a disease was out of the question. Grudges lasted for no longer than a few hours. Our friendships were too powerful. When we said good bye… I’ve had friends that genuinely seemed as if they’d cry in my shoulders. I wish those hugs I’ve received would’ve lasted longer.

Then, there’s *****… where people’s friendships can snap with one single mistake. You wouldn’t know what was happening, and you’d ask. In return, you’re given the cold shoulder. Fine. Even though you’re a “friend,” you couldn’t have given me a warning. Just turn away. yeah that’s it. Glare at me. Well Fuck you! And then… treat me normally again a few weeks later as if nothing happened. Where’s my sorry? Where’s my “let me fucking explain” speech? I fell for that once… never again. Shit happens and you’d better explain why the FUCK I deserved to be treated that way. WHY? What gives the other person the RIGHT to treat me like this?

Because of course (friendly side rising to the “enemy’s” defense) he was under duress and wasn’t thinking straight. He was emotionally stressed.

No. NO. If a person could get away with treating another person like the crap they step on in cow pastures, then so should I. I wish I could treat people like SHIT with the excuse that I wasn’t thinking right. Every time I leave the classroom FUMING and people stop to say hi, I don’t get pissed off at them. Ignore the longing to hit the smiles off their faces Bao. It’s not nice to bring people down with you. Why can’t the world be like this?? Even though I’m literally close to tears as I’m writing this sentence, just now… oh ok. Yeah. I tried and smiled. And just like that, everything cleared up. See? I’m made to be happy so I can serve others. Yeah. Yeah. yeah. It’s like that one post I showed before. Talk to me about your problems and I’ll be glad to help. If you ask me, I can shed some tears. Do you want a side order of anger or sympathy? Because really, I can totally bend myself to what I think about other people JUST to suit your needs. Only in the last post, I really mean it.

So four groups of ***** people. Let’s create a Venn diagram, because a lot of you fall into the middle categories.

Happy, successful, uncaring…

Mean, nice, mean without warning would treat you like shit and then treat you all happy go lucky again. (No apologies, no explanations)

The best people I know.

Really nice friends. Boring, but comforting. Like sleep. It’s always the same routine, the same things.

 

And I swear to God, think twice before you put yourself in a category.

What hurts the MOST is because you guys don’t act like this to ANYBODY. Just me. I mean come on. Why me? You treat everyone else special. And you know what? I can never see you the same again, even if you change. If, of course, I ever give you the numerical password. Why? If you DO read this post, than you might strive to change. Then I’ll know that if I become equal amongst all of you, it’ll be because you’ve read this and feel a) guilty b) angry that I’ve insulted you so and long to prove me wrong c) realize.. “OH! I knew we’ve left someone out!” d) highly unlikely you’ll do it to redeem yourself in my eyes. Haha. No. Like you’d ever find me worthy enough. But then of course, you may be confused or be thinking really lowly of me now and think I’m not worth it. You’re right. I’m not. THough I’m not feeling much as I type this, I know that in my soul, I’m crying to myself to death.

You might also find this post an unprovoked attack from me against you. Moron. Hahaha, no! I’ve been holding all of these feelings back for awhile. This is all but unprovoked.

It’s so weird. I want to never see you all again. But I still want you all to be happy. Do I love you guys too much? Probably. Not? Yes?

And there it goes again… redeeming may actually work. Because of my weak personality of course. But don’t worry, I know what I have to work on now. Personality plus.

But of course (of course) I can’t go blaming all of you for my problems. That’d be selfish and unfair of me. It’s also my fault because it’s just what I am. I don’t know if who is valid at this point. I don’t have enough personality to be considered a real person at this moment in time. This is a trait a soldier, a cold-hearted killer would want. I just want to be a human being with genuine personalities. To be normal. But so far, the things that only truly touch me is seeing people dying, falling from dizzying heights rather than being burned thousands of feet up. You wouldn’t understand what I’m talking about unless if you’ve seen me cry last year. I will cry the same day every year. This, again, illustrates who I am.

I also appreciate you guys very much. C’mon, I can’t seriously just rant on and on about my angry feelings towards all of you. It just wouldn’t be fair. There are

I’ve released all the things I can think of, but I feel as if I haven’t scratched the surface.

and OMG. Just like that, I think I’ve identified part of my problem. I’m torn between two opposing view points. One wants me to walk away and give up. Just rot in the strreets. Another tells me to keep fighting. Fight and don’t stop until you win. It’s agonizing because the first side seems to be winning. Agonizing because the second side, while beaten to death, is just barely holding on. It holds on JUSt enough to trap me inbetween. … What an anticlimax. I see nor feel anything that counts as enlightenment.

****

Some of you seem so unsensitive it sickens me so much (as much as my personality allows me to be sick of). Even total strangers seem more caring and sympathetic. They’ve helped me pull through a lot of problems and helped boost my confidence for awhile. They probably will never know what they’ve done. Actually, I should honestly email them, each and every person who offered words of comfort, email thanks. Thanks for saving my life. I owe you one.

 

Because of this, I’ll give my password to any total stranger and not to my friends. I don’t think they’d want to see this. It’ll hurt them, it’ll hurt me, and friendships shall be severed. Do I realy want that? Hmm… wow. Do I really? Something to think about. How much do I really value my friendship with my ***** group?

And… thank you guys. Vincent. Xi. Erik. Melanie. Esther. Andrew. Alex. Even though you might not be thinking of me right now, busy studying and pulling all nighters, you’ll be a damn good reason for me to live. Or, worst case, to see you one last time before I go away.

Whoo! Typing this was so emotionally stressful. Perhaps I’ll feel better after a good night’s sleep. Night!

Filed under: Vie, , , , , ,

A small skit (based on a true story)

Setting: Going up the ramp at Walgreens in Evergreen Square.

Characters:
Bao Pham
Martin Nguyen

B: (sniffing) Dood, do you smell smoke?

M: Yeah, smells like incest -ahh- INCENSE!

B: WHAT!? LOL

M: Aww, FUCK!!!

End Scene 1

Filed under: General, Vie, , ,

My life is like cherry flavored medicine mixed with sugar: bittersweet… disgusting

“Even a secret keeper needs a secret keeper.”
-Bao

One of my Fremont friends told me that blogs like mine shouldn’t just be something like mine… I should have feelings in there too, what I see in my life, how actually Is my life going, .

Nowadays, I always feel like I have a deadweight on my chest. I used to associate that feeling to guilt and fear of being yelled at. I drown myself in music and friends. I stay up and do homework. Nothing helps. Why? What is wrong with me and how am I screwing up my life without knowing? But in the back of my mind, I think I know it. Maybe it’s because my subconscious knows that my chances of getting into a UC is next to nil. Are all my feelings, actions, and perspectives based on guilt? Dear God, I hope not.

I’ve also felt like I’ve been keeping too many secrets lately. That’s me, the secret keeper. Well, not just a secret keeper. A garbage heap in the nicest way possible. Everybody has problems and they all need an outlet, a trash disposal. That would usually be me. Now please don’t get me wrong. I love it when people come to me with problems. And the last thing I’m saying right now is that your secrets are garbage. Being a secret keeper, a friend to talk to… It makes me feel important, happy almost. I’m such a good person that almost everyone I know thinks of me when they want to burst. I sometimes feel like that guy in the kleenex commercial who’d invite random people to talk to him. Some would burst crying. Others would shed tears of laughter. All of them needed the Kleenex. Whether he’s real or not, he’s inspired me. But often times, my dam shatters and I break apart. A few days ago, Shawn came to me out during fifth period to talk about his grandfather, who’ve just recently passed away. His grand dad was a good cook, fought in two wars, and loved Shawn dearly. All I had to do was listen and say the right things all in the name of our friendship. But in the end, both of us cried. No Kleenex to help us there.
I might’ve looked pathetic to others at the time. A guy that cries?
Who gives a fuck?
There’s this popular phrase that says “Real men don’t cry?” Really? Real men, I’ve heard, join the army, fight in wars, fire a gun. Are you absolutely fucking positive that all of them came back without shedding a single tear? For a while though, I’ve believed in that axiom. A part of me still do: the part that keeps my feelings bottled up. There’s no time to worry about yourself now Bao. Yet another friend is in trouble, I think you should go listen to her. Let her pour her sorrow into your already melancholy soul. Gladly.
My own feelings can wait. Time to help out another person and add a small one ounce weight to my chest. I guess this could be a monument to how much I care about my friends, how much I treasure them, from the most quiet to the most sarcastic and cruel. Some of them hurt me, squeeze the life out of me emotionally. I hurt. Some of them do it on purpose, just to watch me squirm, to be in pain. Not the ones that do it for fun (fun, I can handle. OMG EDDIE STOP POKING HAHAHHAHA THAT TICKLES YOU BITCH!), but just for a unhuman, savage satisfaction. I call them self-centered. Why don’t I fight back? Am I a coward? Yeah, I’d wholeheartedly believe myself, along with several other people I can name off. The truth is, I’m scared of hurting back. Not many people understand, or SEEm to understand. Or maybe when I tell them, they just think it’s another excuse to be cowardly. I’m confused myself. I convince myself this over and over again. Why do I even need convincing? Don’t I already see things like that? Or is there some other hidden feeling beneath it all? To cover it all up, I say I’m a disgrace. Even when the other person is the greatest dolt on Earth.

My feelings are becoming weak too. I can bend them at will, like soft clay. Bao let’s go on that ride, looks fun. Meh, looks a bit too wild for me. Bao shut up and go with us it’ll be fun. You should be excited. So I become excited. Yes, that’s the other thing. Throughout the years, my feelings grew increasingly weak, controlled by hard discipline and hard consciousness. So weak in fact, that it seems like anybody can control them. Pst, Bao, that girl over there…she’s hot huh? Yeah, she’s okay, not my type though. Psh, I bet you like her, you’re becoming so unreadable that you’re readable. Snap! I like her now. Retarded. I’m not a puppet. Where are the damn strings!? They’re figurative Bao. You might not see them, but they’re there, wrapped tightly along every square inch of your body and controlled by others for both the good and the evil. Oh, ok… so what’s for lunch?
I’m not too sure anymore what my feelings are, or if I ever really do have real feelings anymore. They all seem so artificial, generated by my mind rather than my heart and soul. Except sorrow. I enjoy sorrow the most, the sweetest feelings I ever have. They all seem to come from my chest, right in the middle, dead center the spot where the government would draw concentric circles around so the secret agents have something to shoot at for target practice. When I break part, whether tearful or tearless, I feel pain, real pain. Do I enjoy this? I’m not sure, but one thing is certain. The feeling is genuine. That’s why I’m happy when someone else comes up to me with problems. The pain I share with them is real. I feel the most qualified… for sharing such anguish and misery. Sad huh? But don’t worry about me. Keep em coming!
But Bao, what about all those times we laughed together? How about the day we spent at the Great Mall or the walk home from Lunardi’s? I honestly don’t know. I don’t have a frigging clue. Laughing now seems more of a reflex to me. When I laugh, my mind becomes blissfully empty. Nothing else to worry about, just a clean white canvas. Like drugs! You feel as if you’re flying. Lightheadedness takes over. I feel happier than I’ve felt in years. But then again, the question comes up. Is the feeling authentic? Feels like the real deal when you’re in the moment and sometime afterwards. Still does now. That was such an exciting night.

Hey Bao, if you’ve just decided to start pouring your feelings into your blog, where have you been keeping them before? Friends. Some of them are here. One of them even heard me cry, threatening suicide, breathing unevenly. Most of them are in Fremont. And of course, God. I almost never pray to him anymore. Probably less than five times a year. I view him as the big gun, the lifesaving object behind the “break in case of emergency” glass. Only pray… when you really need to. He’s not like that you know. He’ll listen to you, more than you or I could ever do it. Hell, he’s been doing that for centuries.

Hmm… Fremont and Evergreen. During our stay at the mall on Wednesday, we had a “circle of secrets.” Alright, even more secrets! Eddie asked me whether I preferred my Fremont friends over my Evergreen friends. I said I didn’t know. I still don’t know, but then I had some thoughts. I’m even ashamed to admit it, but psh, I’m pouring out feelings right? So what the hey?

My conscience has a voice. Not my voice contrary to all guesses. No, it’s usually a friend. I don’t remember the last time my voice was my own conscience. Before, it used to be Melanie’s voice or Vincent’s voice. Now it’s Eddie’s, Teresa’s, and Vikki’s, each corresponding to their own personality. Bao, you should do this, because adfjklad a. Eddie. Haha, Bao you’re such a LOSER. Teresa. Oh my God, I’m such an idiot! Vikki. Yes that’s what I really think of you guys, and if you don’t agree, swell. But still, I’m ashamed. Why do I have “Fremont” friends and “Evergreen” friends? Wait, why am I writing that part? I don’t mind having “fremont” and “Evergreen” friends. It’s good to be able to compare to eras of one parts happiness and two parts agony. But what would I do? Who would I choose? Why the Fremont guys of course! Because I miss them and love them with all my heart. Okay, time to pack some bags.
.
.
.
.
THen I look back… or forward rather. I’ve done things with my Evergreen group that I treasure so much, things that wouldn’t be the same if I did the same with my Fremont group. Singing Christmas carols. Splashing water. Chugging soda. Baking cakes! Damn! Things have been good. No. KickASS! Things as simple as sitting on the icy steps during a lazy seventh period and just talking and talking, occasionally throwing a football here and there… can bring so much joy! Maybe, just maybe. I like both my group of friends as much as the next.

Fuck it Bao! Choose one! The Pepsi or the Coke? I dunno…. the Cokesi? I still don’t know who’d I prefer, or even give a rat’s ass about who’d I prefer and that’s just the way I like it. I can’t give you a straight answer if I don’t know it myself. Live with it.

I hope you’ve learned a lot about me. Some of you might’ve had your suspicions about me dead on. That’s nice… Some of you might’ve been thrown off by it. Wtf, when did Bao become so complicated all of a sudden? Some of you might’ve found out that you knew less about me then you’ve thought you’ve known. Wtf, when did fucking Bao become so DAMN COMPLICATED!? Moi, I realized that I know less about me than I would’ve like. I learned about 800 things though, so oh well. Compromise. That’s what life is about.

Well… I’ve had a mild emotional rollercoaster writing this. I was kind of expecting salvation at the end of my post. I’ve felt as if I’ve made a HUGE dent, penetrating the surface. But… hmm. Looks like I’ve still got a long way to go. I think I’ll just save it for some other time.

Ta ta!

Filed under: General, Vie, , ,

C’est la vie…. damn

Once in awhile, I question myself as to if I really am a Christian. I speak so little of God and give him such little thought. It’s all about grades, pianos, friends, and wonderful AIM. No room for God today. Too sleepy… No time for God tomorrow, I have a huge ass AP chemistry exam to think about. No time for God on Sunday. No ride to church and either way I have my lab writeup to finish. Many of my old friends say I’m more fit to be atheist. I disagree.

Sometimes, I think that just disagreeing is good enough. I’m not atheist. Therefore, I’m religious. Whenever I think about God, I’m taken back to my childhood… when I was buddhist.

YEAH, I was Buddhist once. My grandmother would take me to Chua Duc Vien. I did that whole kneeling and bowing business to Buddha. I participated in all their events. I was good friends with the monks.

Preschool started and I went to Milpitas Christian School (MCS). No emphasis on God or Jesus there. Preschool was such a hard time for me. Living with the monks and my grandmother, who immigrated from Vietnam and even lost her passport (consequently even forgetting her birthdate), I’ve never recalled even hearing spoken English. Needless to say, I wreaked havoc on their communications department. I was also really childish for a preschooler and didn’t give much care to learning. This was the oddest thing and the teachers didn’t put much in store for me. Odd because on one occasion, I completely aced my math test (count from 1 to 100) while everyone else simply failed.

Life went on and I advanced to the 1st grade. The teacher hated me. All the other kids had it in for me too. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, grades 1-3 and 5-6th were the worst times of my life. I constantly was being framed and I had no way to defend myself without someone to translate. I’ve had no true friends back then. However, I’ve learned what a true friend really is. I was tricked often too and was beat up badly from time to time. Around the 2nd grade, I joined the Cub Scouts from Troop 101, roughly also the same time I commited myself to Tae Kwon Do. Cub Scouts was even worse then MCS. Boy Scouts constantly made fun of me. (me alone too wtf) One day in the Boy Scouts (I’ve advanced already), after taking in an infinite amount of verbal abuses, I gave in and threw my best sidekick/back kick combo at my agressor. It knocked the wind out of him, but he recovered and came right at me and aimed at my throat. I elbowed his face as he came, threw a front kick which landed squarely into his crotch, and quickly shoved him away. A savage feeling of pride washed over me and I released my first swear words ever and from the top of my lungs too. >=O. FUCK YOU. FUCK BOY SCOUTS. I HOPE YOU FUCKING BURN IN HELL. I got in trouble with the troop leaders as the kid I hit suffered from a black eye and other minor bruises (not going to say where). I paid a heavy price for it, but finally I was free from a heavy burden. In conclusion….. it was TOTALLY WORTH IT. Jackasses…

Fourth grade came along and I transferred out of MCS and to Sinnott, my first experience in a public school ever. It was the time of my life. I made many friends. The classwork was EAASY. I had a kickass time making the model missions and I was narrator in the class play little red riding hood. I also had my first crush in the 4th grade. If only I could’ve stayed back one more year… But the best of all was I was one of them. I wasn’t a scapegoat or an omega. I was equal and I could never repay them enough.

That summer was also a big time of my life because I almost died. I was in Mazatlan Mexico and I was playing in the ocean by myself. My mom with, her overprotectiveness, made me wear a lifejacket. I didn’t mind because it was mine and I looked so cool with it. While I was playing, I was unknowingly dragged away by a rip current. I tried swimming my way back. But then, I can’t. Psh. Suddenly, this freakingly huge wave came and pounded squarely on me. In the commotion, the straps for my jacket broke. So I’m out there with saltwater in my eyes and a jacket that might slip off at the next wave. Well, I obviously made it back. My arms and legs were so damn sore they felt like lead weights. I didn’t even have the energy to take the jacket off. Despite this, Mexico was soo fun. The locals were very nice (unlike some of the Mexicans here). I’ve also met Yvonne and her sister Bonnie. Yvonne was that one girl I was talking about once. Didn’t know we were cousins until this awkward moment…

5th grade came and I transferred back to MCS. I had numerous missing assignments and spent at least twice a week in detention. However, I’ve reunited with the friends I’ve managed to make in the past. Either way, it was another crappy year. Then, I started to take God seriously. I sung hymns to escape. I prayed daily. He’s done a lot for me. He helped me survive another one of the worse years of my life.

5th grade fell to 6th grade and then came another year of MCS. Same old deal… until I found out that I’d be transferring to Fremont after Christmas break. I was scared to say the least. But once again, God pulled through. First day of 6th grade in Fremont and I’ve met Vincent and Erik (mentioned in previous posts) and they’ve become my friends to this day.

7th grade came and ALL of us transferred to Hopkins Jr. High. That was one of the best years of my life. I met Xi and countless others.

I also had my first and only referral because I was such a daredevil. Felt horrible though.

8th grade… I moved again, this time to the Evergreen area. Friends threw a small party for me and we went to the movies. They also gave me a Lego submarine (built and on display in my room to this day). I moved and attended Chaboya. I was very surprised at Chaboya’s rough and crude students and their general behaviors. Fremont students are definitely better then Chaboyan students and are still better in some cases to EVHS students. (no offense guys =D)
Chaboya was a bittersweet year for me. I’ve earned the best grades I’ve ever received in my life (all A’s and a B in english). I’ve also felt down for an unknown reason. THat was the beginning of my depression.

9th-11th grade was when I switched schools yet again to EVHS. EVHS was the biggest disappointment in my life. Yet at the same time, this highschool era for me is also the best time of my life so far. (if you average it out) I’ve met tons of people. Some turned out to be really reliable friends. Some needed help. Some turned out to be annoyances.

I’ve made friends but I sometimes I find it hard to connect with you guys. You talk about the funniest things but for some damn reason, it’s hard for me

I’ve never been too social in my life with the exception of 7th thru 8th grade. After reading this (if you managed to without becoming bored), I hope you’ve figured out why.

I also hope you’ve figured out why I set so much in store for God. If you’ve looked in the 5th grade, you’d know that would’ve been horribly depressed without the Lord Jesus business and I probably wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for him delivering me from MCS to Fremont and saving my ass in Mexico.

Filed under: Vie