The Power of Ideas

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One of my favourite movies of all time is InceptionIn the movie, the main character, Cobb, believes the most resilient parasite isn’t a bacteria or a virus. It’s an idea. He says, “Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it’s almost impossible to eradicate.”

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The truth is, all of us have ideas planted in our minds. Some were put there by mentors, some by the movies we watch, some by our friends and family, but I’m guessing there’s one idea most of us have planted in our minds. That is the idea of failure. Perhaps you failed to speak up in a crucial moment, failed in a relationship with a friend, or even failed at a job. We fear failure because we have all experienced it, and for lack of better words, it sucks. As some of us are moving into university next year, we’ll be faced with these “what if” questions about failure in the future. What if we fail a class? What if we fail at adjusting to university? What if we fail to get the job that we worked so hard for? We have embedded this idea of failure in our minds, and Cobb from Inception is right because as we get older, the idea of failure gets stronger. It gains a hold of our mind, and it’s much harder to get rid of.

So the obvious solution is to replace the idea planted into our minds. But with what? The opposite of failure is success. Throughout high school, I did well in classes, built friendships, and in September, I will be heading off to my dream university. Maybe focussing on key successes will help us face difficult problems in the future.

However, it isn’t that simple. I think the idea of success and the idea of failure are on the same spectrum. For example, picture taking a math course. Imagine you did well on every test, except on the last one you got a 49%. Walking into the math exam, most of us are going to think about that test we failed, even if we aced the other 5 tests. We want to think about the idea of success, but we always end up thinking about failure. The truth is, no matter how hard we try, we are all going to fail at one point or another.

Maybe we need to think outside the box. For a minute, scratch the idea of failure and scratch the idea of success. Let’s implant a fresh idea into our minds: the idea of community. We are a part of a community of friends, family, and classmates. Beyond that, we’re also a part of a city, a country, a world of global citizens. We all struggle with failure and success, but our community encourages us when we fail and celebrates with us when we succeed.

Inception shows us that ideas are like a parasite, they’re almost impossible to get rid of. Throughout our life, we have been greatly influenced by the ideas of success and failure. Perhaps it’s time to start being so obsessive over these temporary wins and losses. It’s time to spread the love within the community because each of us wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without the help of another person.

Graduation

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Last Saturday (a.k.a the day I waited 4 years for) marked the end of my high school journey as I participated in high school graduation. Through the countless hugs, flowers, pictures, and goodbyes, I came to a shocking epiphany: I was going to miss this place called high school. 

For the longest time, I deemed high school as a prison tainted by Regina George wannabes, people who had no passion, impostors, and girls too bubbly for my taste. Upon further inspection, I realized that maybe I hated high school so much because I hated who I was in high school. I was that girl. A+ Average Asian. The quiet girl who desperately tried to be an extrovert. Jenna Hamilton from Awkward. The girl with big dreams, but no gut or initiative. But senior year changed everything for me. I became the extrovert without even trying. I talked to anyone and everyone so effortlessly. I trusted my guts; I took initiative. I was Peggy 2.0, a completely different girl. What changed? I hate to admit it, but clichés are half right, because confidence was the answer. I had a change of heart the summer before senior year. I realized it was okay to be quirky. People around me were not going to overanalyze every single mistake I make, contrary to my belief. And dreams and goals and passions? Those things don’t happen unless community happens. When I opened up to people, people were willing to help in my goal, which ended up being our goals. Being fearless in relationships with people, in goals, in school, and in life changed me. That’s what I’m going to miss most about high school. I am going to miss the person I was my senior year because the “what if” questions constantly linger in my mind. What if I won’t be “Peggy 2.0” in university? What if I become the shy, awkward person again? I’m going to miss being confident in front of my class. I’m going to miss the friendships that I have made and the friendships that have grown. I’m going to miss the little things, like how everyone seemed to master the trick of cutting the cafeteria line, except for me. I’m going to miss the complaints about my school’s incredibly slow Wi-fi. Well, that one is debatable. I’m going to miss certain teachers who taught me wonderful subjects, but also taught me about the subject of Life. I’m going to miss the inside jokes, the nicknames, the glamour, the routines.

That being said, I am very hopeful for the future. I have learned my lessons, and I will strive to become a better version of myself every day. University contains a plethora of new and exciting opportunities, ones that I cannot wait to participate in. I acknowledge that there will be days in the future where I love university, but there will also be reading-yearbook-messages-while-eating-ice-cream-and-watching-prom-dvd moments as well. I am surprisingly okay with that though because everything seems to work out in the end. It always does.

please don’t let me go

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the pink pills once in her white laced pockets

now feed on her body

seeping through her bloodstream

an euphoria in her heart

a sadness in her eyes

do you hear her unsteady pulse?

I Just Want To Forget.

clothed in lace and blue velvet

her slender back grazing the floor

ocean blue eyes

unmoved and sparkless

she plays with christmas lights

they adorn her neck like jewels

and line her body in rows

like roses precariously hung on tombstones

the lights blur

the lights sparkle

as if they are intoxicating her judgment

I Just Want To Forget.

the moonlight waltzes gravitating to the single droplet

bleeding from her eye

i walk in

and drop the groceries

they pound, i run, i shake

her hands grow colder and colder

abnormally still fitting into 

the contours of mine

i kneel motionless

her hand wrapped in mine

like the presents under the tree

I Just Want To Forget.

salty drops flow down my eyes

saturating her white lace

my tears converge with hers 

we weep in silence

I Just Want To Forget.

i knew she wanted this

but is it her selfishness that’s deluded her

or mine keeping her back

her face so pale and monotonous

yet a smile still sits comfortably 

my angel

my joy

in a world where everything’s meant to 

be broken

I Just Want To Forget.

my blessing

the gates opening

her haven

her heaven

“Don’t Forget.”

 

Why I Choose to Write/Blog

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piccccLately, I have been wondering: why do I choose to willingly write and blog on WordPress?

I mean all of us bloggers write because we find comfort in fabricating meaning behind words written down on paper or typed on a Word document. Part of me believes that we write because writing offers us a voice. Some of us don’t have the most exuberant, outgoing personality (meaning we don’t talk the most), but that doesn’t mean our “voice” is the quietest. Having a voice doesn’t mean speaking; it means having something to say. Furthermore, one screaming doesn’t give him or her the largest voice. The world screams at us. There are so many voices dictating us, yelling at us, comforting us, making us cry, etc… that we don’t know which voice to believe. I believe writing is a form of art that allows us to find our own voice. Music, fashion, acting, and nearly anything can offer us a chance to find our voice. Maybe that guy tapping his foot while fingerpicking a Beatles song or that girl who people laugh at because she wears polka dotted vintage dresses is finding his or her voice.

Writing offers me a chance to share my voice. I think about life a lot, but I never really say what I think because I’m a at loss for words. I lose my voice. However, when I write poetry or blog, my voice rises to the surface. My thoughts are clear and I pour them on paper; it’s this epic, beautiful sort of process. I find what I want to express to the world, what I couldn’t express through spoken words.

I also believe that what we our chosen surroundings, observations, and what we listen to influences our voice.

So, choose what you love and want to do.
Once you have chosen, you’ll start creating your own voice and expressing it.
Revel in its beauty, sadness, and elegance.
It’s your voice and it’s yours to keep forever.

Beauty In Women

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lillianbassmanvintagefashion16“The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It’s the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman only grows with passing years.”           — Audrey Hepburn

Too often, we let fashion define the idealisms of beauty for us or enable us to be someone we’re not. For example, fashion can make us feel a little more resilient and provocative by further masquerading our internal emotions. Despite this norm, what we wear is not necessarily an accurate portrayal of who we are as people. Fashion merely emphasizes true beauty or contrasts false beauty. However, a girl clothed in “true beauty” is like a piece of clothing that will be forever tasteful and timeless.

The Beatles Revolution

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tumblr_m7h2wgeylg1qjnw5jo1_500“Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly.”

My friend says he doesn’t enjoy the brilliance of The Beatles because “they use the same four chords in each of their songs.” I was appalled; how does one not appreciate the Beatles? I like to think of myself as a connoisseur of good music, and the Beatles is on the top of my list. Part of the intrigue of The Beatles is the simplicity of their music; nowadays, music is convoluted with auto-tune and technology of all sorts. It’s comforting to hear their serene voices sing breathtaking lyrics, with only a piano or guitar solo in the background.

If I could describe The Beatles using only one word, I would use “influential.” I mean, they really started the “British invasion” of music coming to America. And by “British Invasion,” I don’t mean the One Direction or The Wanted fandoms. But who knew they would instigate a revolution of teenage boy bands?

All in all, The Beatles broke through the limitations of their time period to create something that was greater in magnitude than their wildest dreams. They embarked on a journey with their creativity to create music; in the end they accomplished that goal, but also started a movement and redefined rock music.

In the words of John Lennon, “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”

Rage

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she pours salt into your wounds
as she screams provocative words into your ear
her aggression is like a madman’s fist
throwing his punches deep inside your soul
the tables she turns, the glass she shatters
as a crowd of unblinking eyes gather to watch
she likes to entertain a famished crowd
it gives her the attention she always deserved
liberation sweeps her vigorously off her feet as rage
feeds off your weakness
and finishes you off.

rebel is her middle name.
rage paints her path red in a generic
black and white city.
loneliness lingers around her crawling inside her like
a poisonous venom
forever alone she stands as society pushed her outside
to stand in the pouring rain.

expressing her anger to violent skies
she’s reminded of the old painful memories
dripping down
as rage leaves them on the ground
like puddles beneath her feet.

love forgave her
jealously betrayed her
peace rebelled her.

she contemplated if she
accepted love
if only she
forgave peace
would life sort itself out?

but in reality
behind rage is a girl who
doesn’t want to be a tossed penny left on the side of the road who
doesn’t want to embody
a speechless woman stripped of her voice who
was someone left to pick up her pieces of patience one too many times.

so before you point fingers and call her a devil ask yourself
have you ever wanted to Rage?

Vintage Discoveries

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tumblr_me8nx4Wfqa1qbpydeo1_500I (like many people) have this obsession with old books, records, music, and clothes. Vintage. Yellow pages clothed in dust. Records sprawled with spiderwebs. Why you may ask? I think there is a magical quality in a vintage pair of eccentric patterned pants or an old copy of The Great Gatsby. Part of the intrigue of vintage things is the unknownness of it. I do not know who has touched a particular vintage item. Furthermore, each person who has owned that piece has added his or her personal touch to it. Think about it. Someone received a book for her 14th birthday. She donated that book a few years later. On page 16, cookie crumbs from her fingers fell into the spine. The next person who bought it spilled tea on page 28 and sketched a picture of a flower by the author’s name. You see my point. Each person has catered the book to his or her taste in some way. And now when I buy it, I will add my own personal touch. In terms of clothing, it is especially interesting because fashion recycles and repeats itself, so the question becomes: are you buying vintage or subconsciously buying a trend? High waisted shorts are seen as vintage, but it has surfaced to become a trend this season.

Are you a fan of vintage items?

“There’s a vintage which comes with age and experience.”    -Jon Bon Jovi