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Archive for the ‘golddiggin’ [introspection]’ Category

In Perfume: A Story of a Murderer, the main character perceives the world through scents. He identifies objects by the essense of what he smells from them; that was why he was driven to kill young women in order to collect and create a scent of his own.

I also remember places and people with smells. Sometimes. When I travel to England ever year, the first thing that hits me is its familiar smell. I used to catch fleeting whiffs of it in SIS–maybe on one rainy day I would smell it on the staircase–and be struck by excitement and nostalgia. I have a friend who smells very distinctly like something, and I remember being overwhelmed by this “identity” of hers when I first stepped into her apartment in fourth grade.  

But I’ve never tried smelling myself…

What I do want is to establish a scent identity, though. In summer school, one of my friends brought a huge bottle of Calvin Klein In2U, claiming that ever since the first time she smelled it she knew it was hers. I had been thinking about what she said for a while, and concluded that people choose scents that they WANT to smell like. But what if people are attracted to scents that they already are? What if everyone is destined to match with one and only one scent?

Some of my top choices these days:

  

And I just cannot choose one single scent to wear forever. How can anyone be sure about what he/she is, anyway? If I settle on just one, then I would be turning my back away from the millions of other scents that people have come up with–ones with a certain texture or tart trim that my nose might have never experienced before even after 18 years of constantly inhaling the world.

But it does feel nice to think that when someone smells a certain scent, it reminds him/her of me. Just like I miss my particular friend and our summer memories whenever I spritz myself with the Calvin Klein that she wore every day at summer school.

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Why do we almost instinctively treat babies as special, protecting them and enabling them to survive? Darwin originally pointed out that there is something about infants which prompts adults to respond to and care for them which allows our species to survive. Nobel-Prize-winning zoologist Konrad Lorenz proposed that it is the specific structure of the infant face, including a relatively large head and forehead, large and low lying eyes and bulging cheek region, that serves to elicit these parental responses.

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/02/080226213448.htm

I go crazy when I see babies.

I would rush over to one immediately and coo at it, wanting it to smile back. When I watch movies, I only cry when something happens to a kid. Whenever we see a little head poking out of a pram, my friends know that the first thing they’ll hear is an “AWWWW SOOOOO CUTE!!!” from me.

I love everything about kids–the simple way they view life, the most obvious and pure things they say, their innocence and general wonder about life, and..I guess..how adorable they look. Kids can make you laugh because they aren’t trying to be particularly entertaining–they are genuine, and the only times when they try to fake anything are when they are trying to be mature. Which you can see through and also laugh about.

Random baby I found on the net. Just look at him squeezing his eyes shut, scared of the scissors!

My brother’s genius, spontaneous expression when he was around 5?

Kids seem to have such different mindsets that they surprise you all the time. Very pleasantly. Although my friends try to kill my fire by ranting at me about how they are so annoying when they scream, how they always run around everywhere and ask you stupid questions. Maybe it’s because I’m so young at heart, but I don’t really mind. If I was a baby I would love to hear myself talk and get excited and be interested in everything around me.

 

 

I love it when kids try to replicate real life situations. It just shows how much they take in from the world and interpret it by their own selves. It’s fascinating to see how accurate they are when they try to portray the world, and just incredibly cute when they make a mistake trying.

Anyway, enough said. I LOVE BABIES. I guess I should marry right after college? Haha…..I’m not really sure about having one of my own though. It’s more like loving any baby, not just any specific one.

My kids will probably hate me because I might go Okonkwo on them. The things that Korean moms would do…even though they vow a decade ago that they would never…

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I am sorry that I don’t come bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in less than a second after my honorable parents demand my presence
I am sorry that my body chooses to restore itself over a process of 10 or more hours.
I am sorry that I indulge in normal teenage tendencies.
I am sorry that I allowed the seed of expectation that was planted in me to grow. I should have killed it before it bloomed.
I am sorry that I cannot provide a living for myself.
I am sorry that I am not as worldly as my genetic counterpart
I am sorry that I cannot ply my personality to meet someone else’s taste, aka my “Boss’s”.
I am sorry for thinking that I am more than a speck of nothingness compared to what my parents claim to be today.
I am sorry that I am still not human yet. [direct quote, recorded 10:34 pm 6/29/08]
I am sorry that I have not endured through an experience noble enough to match my honorable father’s as to end up being able to control my innate, genetically inherited stubbornness
I am sorry that I cannot take in all the derogatory remarks offered to me with a smile on my face.

After all, I am nothing.


I am sorry that I cannot forget past offenses thrown at me. When I act a certain way, it must be all my fault and caused by no other logical reason
I am sorry that I cannot teach myself on my own how to be human, and that I needed someone to teach me story behind E=MC2
I am sorry that I forget that I am dangling on a chain held by my parents’ little fingers.
I am sorry that I do not have impeccable memory, and that I cannot automatically reply if I was taught economics with the term “company” or “enterprise” when asked, and that I need time to search my memory
I am sorry that I cannot keep a pleasant expression when I am tired, like when office phones turn on relaxing music while they have to spend time doing something offline and have to make the receiver wait
I am sorry that I have my own preferences in making decisions for myself over my parents’.
I am sorry that I dare to choose for myself the position with which I sit when listening to my father’s lecture, given that nearness in position does not have a direct statistical correlation with the ability to take in information.

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Flaws and All by Beyonce

I used to think that I was in control of my flaws.

The first step was to know them. And then acknowledge them to anyone before he or she finds it first. I thought that would make me a little more mature, and…a little more admirable. And at least, that the flaw was a little more acceptable to the other person.

The second step was to change them. I thought I could fit myself into anything I wanted. I thought I was amazingly flexible, able to fix my flaws. I couldn’t understand songs that screamed “this is me, accept me for who i am.” It all seemed pretty wimpy to me. I thought I could easily ply myself into something that anyone and everyone could approve of.

If only I had known the truth earlier.

My mistakes, I now see, have repeated. Over and over. No matter how many talks I had with people about it, despite their claims that “it’s no use,” I still had those flaws and those flaws still flowed out of my actions, baring their teeth at the victim. Now I realized that it was no use talking about my flaws–I used to do it all the time, asking people what they thought was wrong with me.

 Contrary to others, I actually like to expose my flaws and see others’. It’s just so human. And it actually feels good to be able to accept the other person’s flaw, because that indicates how much trust we built between us and how understanding I could be. But a lot of people are actually very good at hiding themselves. They like being happy and being liked and leaving the table feeling only the warmest sentiments. But I think what I really want is to be understood.

You can have a good time with anyone. It’s easy, really. But you can only be yourself, your whole self with flaws & all, with very few people. Although showing my flaws also made me susceptible to attacks over the years, it let me gain people I could trust.

I’m not a very independent person. I don’t really enjoy being alone–which would be strange to a lot of people. My time, my space, I’m not exactly desperate for. This being said, the bond called friendship is a treasure that exceeds most of the things I own. Many people make and break friends as if it’s made of lego bricks. One thing happens, and they suddenly hate the other person and never want to see the person again. I find that pathetically idealistic and ignorant of what makes up every bit of a human being–flaws. Mistakes.

 

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I never had any specific hopes or dreams. Life was just exploring the place I’m in and seeing who I am. I think my personality had already sunken into shape–17 years didn’t pass by for nothing–but I haven’t had enough experiences to really know who I am. I’m just feeling around the corners and trying to guess at the whole shape of the cookie. 

So, I’ve come this far. Back in my middle school days I never thought high school would come.  And now I’m a senior. After being so jealous of my senior friends and dreading junior year all summer last year, I’m done. Although I know I have one heck of a semester in front of me, I have never felt so free in a long time. It almost feels like I will never go to high school again.  So…to sum up, it’s all been a cycle. One class goes up, one class leaves for good. And normally, I would have just thought, “Oh, it’s just my turn.”

But the next year is going to be different. It’s not only going to be a cycle, a hereditary hand-me-down, because I actually have a goal. I want to bring a change. To fix some of the problems I’ve been seeing year after year in the habitat that I call “school.” I want to make it so that the year after that, SISers will have less to complain about. I really can’t do much in one year, as one student, but I would be planting a seed for more difference and more improvement.

I still don’t have a dream. But I know the little steps I can take, steps that I can climb and at the way top see my deepest wishes crystal clear. And after planning these small changes for SIS, I realized that it’s a part of me to want to change things. To act. I can never just stand still talking about something. Some people say I’m too rash in doing that, some people wonder why I bother. But this is one thing about myself that I’m starting to feel…pretty good about.

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