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Welcome to my blog randomnessandweirdnessisanna.blogspot.com where I try to annoy you as much as possible by not updating even after countless tags.
Oh. Repetition makes me happy.
And yes, there IS a pause button to stop the music from continuously playing in your ear, interrupting the sound of my very annoying voice playing in your heads.
MUHAHAHA.
Today I wondered...
How my life would have been if I was still learning the piano and did not "give up".
I was about 7 years old. I woke up one day and heard my mum outside saying, "It's just a waste of money! She doesn't practice, doesn't want to go for lessons..."
Back then, I was HAPPY to give up piano. I was thinking how much of a pain it was. Having to go for lessons, for tests. For my parents to have to spend money on something I didn't like learning.
And then later I realised. I realised that I shouldn't have given up. Sure, having to get a piano in your house is a sure bother while moving, but I would have something else.
The gift of music?
And the ability to be able to actually READ notes.
Sure, I love my life, and being able to listen to music, but it can be somewhat of a bother when you have a group of friends playing the piano together and discussing the notes to play and all.
So you stand further away, and think, "Why can't I do that?"
What knowledge I would have gained if I had read newspapers or watched the news.
First of all, I would have actually known how to OPEN one, and read it without the pages getting torn or messed up.
But then again, that's why I don't read newspapers.
The inconvinience.
"Did you watch the news last night? There was this case about...."
"No."
"Okay."
If I would have kept swimming after my coach died. That is, because I stopped swimming MONTHS before his death.
Swimming pools. I used to love swimming pools.
I never felt more free anywhere else.
And then what happened?
"Okay. So, time to go for swimming lessons."
"Can I not go today? I'm feeling really tired."
"Fine. But I still pay $50 every month, you know."
"Then I won't go this month."
And then I never went again.
What situations I would be in right now if I was still open with my feelings.
A voice in my head tells me to tell her how I feel.
And to tell him.
To tell anyone.
But my actual voice never listens.
And then it was too late.
What person I would be if I had never moved to another country.
Initially, I hated having to move.
But now I look back and realised I was living a life that was too much for me to handle.
I thought I was relaxed, but the scars on my arms from eczema probably tell a different story.
I have different ideas now.
I see the world differently now.
It's not as restricted.
But then again, I feel like I'm running away...
Of how not meeting some people would impact my life.
I would have never learnt how to ride a bike.
I would have never wanted to take care of someone as much.
I would never have realised that I could regret something this much.
I would never have laughed as hard.
I would have never had someone as fun to talk to, even though most of my words are not heard.
I would never have realised that emoticons can be aliens or have too many chins.
I would have never called mentos, "men's toes".
I would have never found stroking someone's arm fun.
I would have never believed that eyes can turn different colours.
I would have never owned someone for a few yuan.
I would have never wanted to stalk someone else's cousin.
I would never have thought that someone I once thought I hated, would end up being my best friend.
I would have never known someone who makes the title "Auntie" sounds so cool.
I would have never known that underwear falling would be so funny.
I would have never had someone fit my description of a perfect person to me.
I would have never had wanted to steal a girlfriend just for fun.
I would have never wanted to propose to someone just so that I could pretend steal her.
I would have never seen someone who looked so pretty in glasses.
If I really loved the people I claimed to.
You're there for me everyday. You do things for me that I would never be capable of doing for you. Sometimes I feel completely annoyed when you say things to people. But I know you really do love me. And I wonder if I'd be able to care for you the same way you did for me.
I wonder if I could tell you I loved you again, without feeling like I was choking out the words.
I sometimes feel like crying, when I think about the times I probably hurt you, and how hard it is to say sorry.
You've been there for me every step of the way. Yet I can never really say thank you.
I feel scared of losing you. Yet I can never let the words escape.
*****
I remember the good times we had in the past few years. I remember feeling extremely loved by you. I remember looking up to you, and thinking to myself, "I want to be just like him and work hard."
I remember feeling protected by you.
I remember missing you dearly while you were away.
I remember being taught new things by you. So many new things that made me think you were the best. That you were how they should be.
But now I doubt you.
I know you still love me, I know you still care.
But there are bad thoughts in my head about you now. And I need God's help to remove them.
I would be sad to know if it was the truth.
I find myself losing respect for you; respect I should be gaining back.
You're gone most days, but I feel free.
I no longer let those words come out from my mouth.
I pull away from your touch.
But I know you care.
I know you still love me.
Which is why sometimes I just want to break down and cry.
And ask myself, "What's become of me?"
It's true that sometimes your words hurt.
But you're still what you are to me.
Nothing can change that.
How I really felt.
I remember, in kindergarten.
"Today, children, you're going to draw. The theme is about what you did over the weekend."
I remembered the weekend well. I had lots of fun. We went out to the park.
My family and I, and my aunts too.
I began to draw.
"Ew. What's that?" The girl next to me said. "HEY! Look! Isn't this ugly?" She said to the boy sitting next to her.
"Yea!"
I walked away with my drawing.
"Sit down!" The teacher told me.
When I did, there was no chair there, and I fell.
"HA HA!" The boy said, with my chair held in his hands.
*****
"Ahh. I probably can't do it."
"Yea I know. You're too heavy."
"What was that?"
"Nothing." -Smiles-
*****
"Why not call the... OH! You know I didn't say that to offend you."
"I don't care, anyway."
*****
"She said you're fat."
" I don't care, anyway."
*****
"Maybe you should lay off it for a while."
*****
"Look! Look at her!"
*****
"He said..."
"Ah. Why should I care about him?"
****
"You KNOW what to ask."
****
"I hate you."
"Okay."
****
"Are you on bad terms? I heard she was mean to you."
"Nah. She's okay."
****
"Next time open your big... Mouth!"
"It wasn't me who wanted the water!"
****
"I don't know you anymore."
"Ha ha...."
****
"Is it okay if you help me to..."
****
" Well, do you?"
"Ha ha... No, I don't!"
****
"It's okay to cry! One time I also burst out crying in class too. No one knew why."
"I wasn't crying. I was yawning."
How my relationships with my relatives would be like if I visited them more.
It's Chinese New Year.
"Hello." I wave awkwardly.
Have small talk with them.
At the end of the dinner, I text: "I'm sure they all dislike me. (:"
I also remembered washing my face in the washroom.
After giving a hug to someone which I thought might be my last.
****
My parents are taking me to my cousins' house. I'm not so close to this ones. I haven't seen them in a long time.
One of the two sisters is a girl my age. Her name is Gladis.
I've never seen Gladis for a long time, I think to myself in the car.
I'm wearing a dress and carrying my small Barbie backpack.
I walk up to their house.
Gladis and I end up having a great time.
She tells me of how she keeps a stuffed toy in her bags now too, as she said I used to do that.
She has this mailbox kind of thing that she keeps outside her door. She says it's for people to leave her letters. I quite like the idea of that! Seems like loads of fun.
My parents says that we're going home, and Gladis can come. I'm thrilled.
We go back to my house, grab a shoebox, and Gladis starts making me a mailbox. While hers was simple, the one she was making me was much more nicer, I thought.
I admired her craftsmanship. I knew if I were doing it on my own, it would have never been as perfect.
She cuts the white pieces of paper and puts them perfectly over each side of the box. She then slits a rectangular hole with a pen knife. I was amazed as I watched.
We started decorating the handmade mailbox together and had a lot of fun.
I had one of those sticker photos which I pasted on, and we had chosen a small ruby red bead to be a kind of centerpiece on the mailbox.
I really felt it was as beautiful as a ruby.
Once we were done, my uncle - Gladis' father came for her.
She said she would visit soon.
We don't meet for months.
And when we did, I had lost the "mailbox".
****
"Remember the mailbox you made for me once?"
"Uhh. OH YEA!"
"Yep! There was a red bead on it."
"Oh yea, and some sticker... Like a red one?"
"That was the bead."
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2.16AM.