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a short essay on the good girl/bad boy combo

Mothers of good girls will never understand why their daughters are attracted to bad boys. Mothers of bad boys will perpetually understand why their sons are attracted to good girls. The good girl/bad boy combo makes me think of Jess and Rory and Landon and Jamie. It didn’t quite work out between the first couple, but it worked out for the second couple. That’s because Landon changed. Jess didn’t. The bad boy must eventually turn good to keep a good girl. Lorelai never approved of Jess, but she let her daughter make her own mistakes. Luke, albeit not Jess’ mother, approved of Rory and even encouraged the relationship, believing she will be a good influence on his bad boy nephew. I’d say she was, considering he eventually became the one ex-flame who could set her straight whenever she strayed from her good girl path. When she dropped out of Yale, he came to visit her and call her out. When she lost her journalism gigs, he told her to write a book about something she’s passionate about.

Meanwhile you’ve got Jamie’s father who absolutely did not approve of Landon and Landon’s mother asking him to be careful with Jamie since she was the Reverend’s daughter. Because of who Jamie was, Landon changed and told his mother so when she found his little piece of paper that had a big dream on it to get into medical school. Landon changed so much he became the miracle Jamie wanted to witness and only then did the Reverend accept him for who he was. Clearly, opposites attract, but don’t last unless one of the opposites changes to be like the other opposite.

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from the block

It is raining right now and I started wracking my brain for any rainstorm memories and my brain started to get frustrated with me. I know there are plenty of times where it rained in my life, but the only memory I can think of right now is from third grade when my parents and I just got back from grocery shopping. We had parked the car at our apartment complex, but we didn’t want to get out of it on account of not having an umbrella. We sat for how long I don’t know, but it didn’t seem long because one of our neighbors eventually saw us. He walked out to our car with an umbrella and walked us back to our apartment. Mom thanked him for keeping us unsoaked.

I guess this memory stood out because it felt like a random act of kindness, even though technically it wasn’t since we knew our neighbor really well and he was just watching out for us. I didn’t tell my brain to wrack it up, it wracked it up on its own and I think that particular memory stood out for a good reason.

Kindness is how I want to remember 2018.

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raw

It’s been a month (5 days ago) since my father passed away and I’m still not over the shock. Neither is my mother. I don’t know what I was expecting, like I should be over it by now? I keep imagining in my head that all those around me must be expecting that I’d be over it by now, uncertain if I really am imagining these expectations or that’s really what they are expecting and then I think of course not, no one is expecting me to be over it by now, what a ridiculous thing to expect! Right?

I go back and forth and question myself and start to wonder if my thoughts are correct. Who does that? Moi, apparently. And then I wonder if that’s the right thing to do. I try to live day to day life as normally as possible, then something makes me think of him and the tears come. For my mother it’s worse. She used to work with him so every time she goes to work now she can’t avoid seeing someone who used to know him or used to work for him. The tears come uncontrollably and she carries them home with her. She can’t hide them from me and I feel bad. I don’t know how to stop feeling bad for my mother. I just worry about her.

It just doesn’t make sense. How can someone go from being here with you, talking to you, eating with you, listening to you one minute to Gone the next? I really don’t get it. I miss him so much.

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Thoughts Gone Wild

There are times I really want to scream my head off. No, not times. All the time.

That frequent?!

 Yes.

:O

And not because life sucks or I’m depressed or I’m bipolar. (No disrespect to anyone who is feeling this way. For real. I mean it.) I just have so many thoughts they feel like they’ll confetti out of my head.

That’s it? Just a plethora of thoughts? My grandma can hold 1,000 thoughts in her head simultaneously without a helmet on.

 That doesn’t even make sense.

Tee-hehe! Ryan Higa humor for you!

 *rolls eyes*

What?!

 Nothing. You’re so immature. When are you going to pull out of a Peter Pan and grow up?

*crickets chirping*

I wish my brain would think differently. But I don’t even know exactly what differently would look like. Or rather, sound like. Maybe it just needs silence. What does that sound like? I feel like that is impossible. No matter how quiet it is, there is always some noise. The hum of your laptop. An airplane flying overhead. Creaks in the wooden floor. Water running through pipes.

Maybe silence just means eclectic.

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Sometimes it’s hard to get started.

Moisturized skin is like a brand new start. A clean slate. Vanilla ice cream. The girl who screamed the loudest in my face went to law school. I ended up in accounting. What does that say about me? It’s like rain during your drive home, but it turns into sunshine as soon as you get home. Where did it all go? It got all mixed up in a fatberg. In stray hairs on the carpet that get picked up over and over again. Some were pulled out and others fell out of the sky into a Vanessa Carlton song. Stay the course. If you don’t, you veer somewhere off course into the wrong hole. Then if it turns out to be a black hole, you’re screwed. You may never come out, or if you do come out, you come out inscrutable to the rest of the world. So much for brand new starts…

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runaway thoughts

I want to go relax on the beach. Actually, I want to go somewhere I don’t have to overanalyze anything or do anything that has to be done. Because things that have to be done are such silly poos. Maybe that’s not the right word. I call my friends that I like silly poos, not my obligations. Friends that I don’t like are called friends. Anyway…wouldn’t it be nice to escape forever? Or if not forever, at least for a long period of time to some magical place where there is no concept of time so when you come back, you haven’t aged and can pick up right where you left off. Narnia! That’s it. Is Narnia like that? It’s been so long since I’ve seen the movie and read the book. I have the book, but I’m too lazy to extricate it from its home on the shelf and read it again to answer my own question. I’d have to read as fast as Albert from “How to Build a Better Boy” for that to work anyway. It would be nice to be able to talk to books. Then they could answer my questions for me. There would be no need for Google or encyclopedias. Yes, you have entered into the weirdness of YuMin’s mind after work.

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High-strung

That was one of the words my ex-boyfriend used to describe me. He was wrong about a lot of things, but he was right about that one and that one right thing was what I hated the most about him and me together. It’s funny it sometimes takes a romantic relationship to learn who I am, but that’s what happened seven years ago. To me, being nervous and easily upset is the worst thing in the world. I don’t know why I feel that way or where the feeling comes from. I just do. But more specifically I hate the word “high-strung.” I don’t even like saying it. It’s like if I’m thinking about saying it I’ll have to pull a Harry Potter and just call it a “you-know-what” instead. Like, my ex-boyfriend used to call me a you-know-what. That doesn’t sound right either so that’s probably why it never became a thing. Not that I hope it does because that would be weird. I just think “high-strung” makes me think of “crazy” and while I like being called a crazy writer, I don’t like being called “crazy.” Is that so crazy?