Life Cycle

A cycle repeats every single step, infinitively.

I am excited for my next quarter. I am excited for what I will learn in History, Public Speaking, and Geology classes. I will also take a Udemy course about Graphic Design, because I want to expand my skills beyond studying academic contents.

But not yet.

Finals of this quarter haven’t been over yet! 3 papers, 1 tests, and 8 journals are waiting for me! And never in my life has I ever been this unmotivated!! 😓😓😓 I need energy to finish my things, but energy seems to be inexistent.

The cycle: excited, stressed, exhausted, relieved.

Stage 3 is where I am at.

Cycle of life. Time flies fast. I remember everyday riding the bus, I notice changes of trees. They were colorful when I came, last fall, which was truly wonderful to me because where I came from there ain’t any yellow or red leaves. In the winter, the trees made me feel bad for them because they looked cold and lonely. Spring came. I got to walk under the sun and had a closer look at my surrounding. No rushing because no wind. No running because no rain.

Life cycle. Flowers flourish and fall. Just like me every season of life. My adopted brother never wishes I would have a happy new year, but rather he would encourage me to take in any catastrophes that life has to offer, because without those I would never understand true happiness.

I appreciate what he says. Those words, in my adversities, become so much more than just words. They are guidance that takes me from season to season, closer and closer to what I want.

He also has a circle theory, but I will talk about that some other time.

For now, let’s have a good night’s sleep.

Happiness in Emptiness

When things keep going out of order, I pray and pray again, but the force of emptiness just seems to be too huge for me to even resist. 

I am not doing well with my academic classes now, because they become harder and harder. I wasn’t able to do my best on my test this morning, and that left me a strong feeling of failure. I wish I would overcome this soon (because after all it was just a test, it really shouldn’t have mattered that much, for I actually tried really hard in class for the whole quarter up to this point). I might not be able to do the best on my last, but I have done my best during the process. 

The Writing Center becomes more and more like a home to me now. 

These are the names I tell myself to remember because I am grateful for having them in my life. 
Dominic – a pretty cool leader who are responsible and knows what to do, but with a kind sense of humor. 
Maya – a serious leader who devotes her full attention to what she needs to do, but when we have free time, she brings a relax atmosphere, especially when she talks about literature. 
Elisa – a pretty cool girl from Venezuela. She cares for me and I care for her. I hope our friendship will grow even stronger. 
Jackson – my first impression: friendly, patient, and knowledgeable. I like doing shadowing with him because of the wise things he tell other students. He makes good comments on people’s essays. He wants to be an English teacher and likes having space for himself. 
Tom – a dude who suddenly one days asked me, “What’s up dude?” I was speechless because I don’t think I look like a dude. But yeah he becomes more and more interesting with great ideas, and I am impressed by his comments about personal statements, which will likely become his main focus study field in the future. 
Emmy – I was upset at first about her because she seemed to not notice my appearance. I was sad because she didn’t offer me candies as she did to others. But Emmy is the person who teaches me to reach out, to talk more, and because she is a good listener, eventually we have more things to discuss about, and that I know her more and more every day. 
Sheri – my boss. I love her. She is understanding, a good listener, and a caring person. I know when I talk about my problems, there will always be someone who understands. 
The list goes on, but these are the people I work with the most during my shifts. 

I learned to be more comfortable working with citation – MLA and APA. The more students ask me about these, the more I know what I am doing. I hope in the future I will no longer have to raise my hand and ask my lead, “Hey do you want to help me with this because I don’t want to tell the wrong things.” I will become more and more active during my shifts, and that I will get rid of what stops others from understanding the real me. 

Thank you the Writing Center for giving such a great opportunity to grow. 

Never miss the Sun when it starts to snow.

In my family, I have always been a daughter who doesn’t talk much to her parents, or maybe sometimes she does, but she never shares her deepest feelings to them. I have always been a genuine introvert, burying myself under piles of books, loving to tell others – Mom, Dad, and Sister – about the world appears on pages.

To me, there have never been a deep family bonding between me and my parents. I love them, and they truly love me. But I would find someone else to talk about my problems.

Perhaps that’s the consequence of being a firstborn who seems to have a mission of being perfect.

My sister was born when I was old enough to understand the world around me. At the age of 8, I was more mature than other peers. I took care of my sister, even though I wasn’t that responsive. I loved seeing her growing up every day. I also saw how she had changed my family, from its root.

She was like a bridge between me and my parents. Our house was filled with joy and laughters. But there was still something missing: sadness we bear have never been discussed about. I never know how to truly talk about my problems and concerns with someone else. I always assume that (1) they will never understand, or (2) I don’t have real problems.

And I was fine with that. To me, the gap between my parents (who are in their forties), me (not fully an adult but not a teenager anymore), and my sister (her age is a one-digit number) is huge, and we cannot avoid that. I was fine with hanging out with friends from dawn to dusk, and I care less about what they feel.

But now when I am at the door of transformation – being a person who is fully in charge of herself, I know what I need. Relationships between people need the part when we all share what we want and the part when we say we love each other. I have never told them these things in my life. Perhaps I did, but only for my own profit.

When I am too far way from them, I then understand what I need.

Just like when there is no Sun here, I miss its warmth.

How many kings

How many kings stepped down from their thrones?
How many lords have abandoned their homes?
How many greats have become the least for me?
How many Gods have poured out their hearts
To romance a world that has torn all apart?
How many fathers gave up their sons for me?
Only One did that for me

Dear Jesus, 

I have not only always heard about you, but also believe that you are my dear friend. Even though I have never actually seen you, I know you are there because I have seen what you have done for me. 
For more than 2,000 years, you are still there, and you are the King of all kings, and the King for ever. 
How many greats have become the least for me? Knowing you has been the best thing I have ever done, because it helps me understand myself and also others. This year, I experience myself grow in knowledge and in love, and I know if it wasn’t because of you, then no one else could ever change my life that much in such a good way. 
Happy birthday Jesus, and I am looking forward to a new great year with you, and with my brothers and sisters in this God’s house. 



Thanks for bringing Hayley back to me, even for just short two weeks. 

From a very different perspective

She got out of her house and went on a walk, in the midst of deadlines.

She sat down on a bench on one side of the street, took out her phone, and started taking pictures of herself.

She posted those photos on her social media account right when she got access to the Wifi.

She never did those things before.


There was a plan for today, but that didn’t matter. Because life wasn’t all about plans.

CCF today didn’t turn out to be what I wanted. The game I planned wasn’t what I wanted it to be at first. My health didn’t actually allow me to enjoy it as I expected.

But that opened a door for me to see things from a very different perspective.

I was tired, so I sat aside to see others hanging out. And I realized hey they’re pretty cute. He is caring, she is understanding, or she is generous. All the good adjectives!

It’s just important to stop and actually think about what I should do. I should love more, care more, and take just more and more photos!


Airplane – home

8 years old 

They say 1,000 times wishing under 1,000 passing airplanes will make the dream comes true. And wish I did. Every time there was an airplane flying upon my head, I would put my hands together, tilted my head, and asked for a present. It was a compass that I wanted, because the love for travelling, even though I have no idea where I would end up, or whether I would move to somewhere else other than my birthplace. 

An 8-year-old me longed for wonderlands away from home. 

6 years later 

16 years old. 

It wasn’t my first time being on an airplane. But it was the very first time I traveled by myself. I knew what I was supposed to do, for I understood more than what a girl at my age did. When got lost, I knew where to go and what to look for. My eyes worked better than my mouth, and that just saved me so much more time for not having to assail someone when in trouble.

16 years old, I was sitting on an airplane and crying. I missed home even when the airplane hadn’t even taken off yet. I missed it even when I was still on that homeland. Tears dropped. Didn’t even want to eat. I skipped my breakfast and had half of my lunch. 

The flight assistant approached me and said that since I am under 18 and this was the first time I had ever been on an airplane (which was not true, so I was confused), I would have to follow them after landing. I did. And I didn’t like that.

And I cried even harder when the women had gone. That was when I realized how much I had grown, based on the fact that I was travelling alone and would live far away from my family, and how much I had not grown at all. The fact that she told me to follow her showed that I was nothing, and that I couldn’t do it myself. 

It was two years ago. 

Almost 18 years old. 

I miss home. That’s what I refused to say many times for the past almost two years. 

I miss home. 

The more I fly back and forth between these two places, the more I understand what home feels like, the more I appreciate where I come from. 

18 years old

I learn and will learn to love more and more. Love the people that I have left behind. Love the people that I met and will meet. And love the people that are different, from each other and from me.


8 years old: out of my reach 

16 years old: full of excitement, confusion, and sadness. 

18 years old: I miss home. 

I can use the compass on my phone, but I didn’t actually care about it that much. I long for something else. I long to see more places and more people. I long for knowledge. I want more. 

But also long for home. 

The book thief, again.

(Other perspectives) symmetric

I am haunted by humans. 

Death – The book thief – Markus Zusak

For about an hour now, I have been writing and deleting my review blog of The book thief, because as always, I could never actually find a way to explain or even tell it in an appropriate way that can actually express how much I love it and how deep its meaning. I would try that some other day, because this book is brilliant. 

I wanted to explain that I am constantly overestimating and underestimating the human race—that rarely do I ever simply estimate it. I wanted to ask her how the same thing could be so ugly and so glorious, and its words and stories so damning and brilliant.


Briefly, everybody should read it… That’s it. The best one ever.