Scaring the Shit Out of Me

I'm in a writing mood so this is going to be a long blog. Don't worry about reading it if you don't feel like it. I just feel like writing.

When you're a kid, I think you tend to enjoy the story told by other people, especially by your grandparents. I don't know about anyone else but I sure love listening to my grandparents' stories. There's just something about their stories (maybe because they are grandparents? Haha) that would capture my mind every single time, no matter how many times they repeat it.

As technology got better by the year, I tried to teach my Grandparents what I know about computers, emails, phones, and so on in hopes that I can bring 'em joy to learning new things as they bring me joy for telling me about the past. They love the idea of today's phones and ability to call anyone in the world within minutes. (As my Great-Grandpa tells it "PHONES?! PHONES?! WHEN I WAS YOUR AGE, YOU RUN TO THE PERSON'S HOUSE TO TALK TO 'EM! PHONES, HA, WHAT A JOKE!")

But when it comes computers and emails, I guess they're not ready to learn these new technologies yet. My Grandparents still don't know how to turn ON the computer let along USE one to get online, use Skype, and other good programs the computer offers. Guess it's going to be awhile before they catch on to this new idea. (You should hear my Grandpa rant about how he knew the M3 Stuart like the back of his own hands, now "this machine...this horrible machine!" haha :P)

There is a reason behind all my madness. If I can get my Grandparents to use the computer, there would be less money spend on say...postage (though I must say getting snail mail is still pretty cool) or even phone bills (Thank you Skype!) And with the amount of times we move around, emails and say text? (haha, can't wait till I have to explain that to my Grandparents) would be easier to communicate. But guess we'll just have to wait till that happens.

So, my Grandparents tends to just call us when they wish to talk. I don't mind that, I love talking to my Grandparents (even if it means staying on the phone for hours) but when they start going into story mode, that's usually when I put everything down to listen to what they have to say. (Telephone stories ain't better than stories live but hey, better than no stories!)

And that's how it was on Monday (December 7th) and I'm sure many of you already know which day it was. As President FDR said it man years ago, December 7th is "A Date Which Will Live in Infamy" Now my Grandparents didn't know each other when the attack on Pearl Harbor happened, but they sure got some nice story to tell. So for hours, my Grandparents each told their own story as if they were right in the house with us. And if you can believe it or not, the stories still captured my mind and full attention.

I think it's a skill, to be able to tell stories through the phone and still have everyone flabbergasted, ya it takes skills.

Sure makes me wonder if I'll ever be able to tell stories like my Grandparents. And also makes me wonder if Sarah will love their stories like I am now.

Second:

I have said it before, people give me more credit than I deserve in this life time. I'm not as smart as people think I am and I have done many things I regret. I have found that when people see my grades or test scores, they assume I am smart. They assume I get the materials that's taught by the teacher or every little things in life. Most of the time, I don't get it at all. A simple material needs to be reviewed by me many times before it finally register in my mind and that's just how I am, sorry if I throw you off.

What got me wonder the most is when people ask me "are you trying to convince me you don't get this? are you trying to say you're really that stupid?" It seem to be one of the popular questions of this semester. I truly don't know how to answer that one but, "yes I guess I am really that stupid."

Guys, I'm not as smart as you think I am and if that means give me less credit, please do so. My grades...I work my butt off for 'em. My scores, study for hours to get the score I want. I truly am a lot less than what people give me credit for. I'm not born smart or with a talent, I just work my butt off every time.

Third:

I think ever since Sean's passing, cancer's been a touchy subject for a lot of us. A difficult enough thing for us to deal with even if it's just on TV. (During Thanksgiving, as soon as we saw a commercial about cancer, we would switch the channel just to avoid hearing it) It's not that we don't wish to talk about Sean and how great of a person he was, but really, this subject is just something we as a family try to avoid.

But it's the when you least expect it, it hits you the hardest. Going through my Favorites on Twitter one night, I saw a tweet of me and Sean making caricature designs. And as I clicked on Sean's design I froze. Because that design is now a perfect world thing.

In a perfect world, Sean would still be alive.
In a perfect world, that family would not be missing a wonderful son and little boy.
In a perfect world, kids like Sean wouldn't have to suffer.
In a perfect world, shit like this just don't happen.

I sure miss the little guy. Every day, little things I do reminds me of him. The weather, the cars, homework, everything. And boy, what I would do to see him again. Maybe play a little football, race around the block, or just hang out like we used to, I'd do anything to see the little guy again. And I'm sure everyone is feeling the same thing, especially Sean's parents.

Forth and last:

Awhile ago, I wrote something about Dreams and Nightmares. The dreams (nightmares, whatever you want to call 'em) haven't stopped. And somehow, my brain is playing 'em like a movie and a broken record.

Someone once DM me on Twitter and asked me if I ever thought of maybe having PTSD. I told her "No" because these little things I go through is nothing compare to what my Dad or other people gone through. I don't need help, they need help because they deserve it. That person told me, "This is about you, no one else in the world, it's about you."

Maybe she's right.

This morning, Mom asked me if I was doing ok and truly ok. She told me she's concerned about me and there are a few things that she just can't keep ignoring. I don't know why I lied to her but I told her I'm fine. I didn't correct myself or told her sorry that I lied. I lied straight to my Mother's face and she accepted the lie.

I'm changing and it's scaring the shit out of me. It's making my parents worry. And worse, it's making me lose many friends I've made.

Tonight will mark the third time someone tell me (both online and in person) "You make no sense." Truth is...I know I make no sense. I don't make sense to myself. I'm changing to someone I'm not familiar with and it's scaring the shit out of me. This isn't the person I grew up with and know. This ain't me at all.

I'm changing and it's scaring the shit out of me.