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How Is It Almost Sunday Already??

I had been waiting all week for the weekend, but now it’s 8:07 pm, only 4 hours away from Sunday.

I had been waiting all week for Saturday to relax and do nothing, but now it almost comes to an end. How is that possible?

Why does an hour of Saturday feel like 5 minutes of Monday? What is wrong with the time, seriously? One blink and 10 minutes has passed. Sometimes I look at the clock and I just want to break it. I need more time.

I need more time to lie on my bed. I need more time to do pointless thing. I need more time to scroll through tumblr. I need more time to relax. I need more time to just not think about anything.

It annoys me that it took me a full week to get to this day, and now it has to come to an end.

Anyway, I slept in today until 11:30 am, and it. felt. so. good. I have basically done nothing besides catching up on some TV shows, worked out for a little bit, and finished about 20% of my homework, which is pretty impressive I might say since I was planning to do nothing on this Saturday. I’ll just do the rest tomorrow (that’s what I always say 88% of the time).

I have next week and half of the week after until spring break, so that’s good. Other than that, I’m just struggling to get through the weekdays.

(This post is going nowhere so I’m just going to stop here. I swear I’ll come up with a better post next time. I just need to let out a tiny little rant)

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Let Us All Jump Off a Bridge

Recently I came across a question about a place where I felt perfectly content. It made me think for a bit, and so… here it is (please note that I was kinda rushing when I wrote this so I feel like it’s a little bit eh. But hey, it’s my blog–although I enjoy posting coherent and a put together post, I also enjoy the occasional meh post just because).

Eighteen years had I been deathly afraid of height. But there I was, standing 708 feet above ground on the apex of Bloukrans Bridge, hands shaking, and head spinning. The sun had come out of its hiding and proudly shined among the cloudless sky, yet the cold South African winter air made me wish I had not left my jacket in the car. I stood up as soon as I heard my name amidst the chatters, and the upbeat music; it was my turn to jump from what was said to be “the highest bungee bridge in the world.” Thousands of thoughts were running inside my head as I timidly hopped my way to the edge with my tied up legs.

One hop.

My palms were cold, but I kept a smile on my face to mask the fear.

Two hops.

Almost there. My forehead started to glisten with cold sweat as I was trying to keep my balance so I would not fall off the ledge mentally unprepared.

Three hops.

I was at the edge. My legs slightly trembled, and my friends’ cheers were muffled as I tried to calm myself.

Three.

They started the countdown. I looked down, my heart was ready to jump out my ribcage, and the smile had been stuck to my face permanently.

Two.

I could feel my cortisol level went up drastically. The muscle around my lips started to ache.

One.

I bent my knees, and tried to jump off the ledge as gracefully as I could (but I ended up looking like a frog with a broken leg). Next thing I know, I was free falling for 6 seconds with my arms wide open. The adrenalin took over, replacing the fear with euphoria, and I laughed as the cord bounced me up and down like a human yo-yo. Height was not as bad as I had thought; I did not even remember why I was so afraid in the first place. All I know was I had finally had the courage to conquer my biggest fear—although not completely, but at least 77% of it.

I stopped my laughter fit as the bouncing had finally come to a stop. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush, or maybe it was my lack of sanity after the jump, but as I was waiting for someone to pick me back up to the top of the bridge, hanging upside down with my hair as wild as jungle and my lips as dried as a desert, I felt perfectly content.

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Hello, I’m Looking for My Brain

This week was definitely a weird week for me–not weird in a look-there’s-a-tiny-elephant-inside-my-ear kind of way, but more like a sitting-on-my-bed-staring-blankly-ahead-trying-not-to-break-down kind of weird. I honestly don’t know why I felt that way; maybe it was the cold weather, maybe it was the heavy school workload, or maybe it was just the lack of food in my fridge.

But I had quite a decent day today; definitely don’t fell as crappy as I did. I ordered take out Mediterranean food for dinner, the owner gave me free soup and an extra baklava, and I left the restaurant with a smile on my face. Now I have a fridge filled with leftovers and I am not complaining (I do however, regret eating all the baklava at once, because I kinda want one right now).

Man, my brain hasn’t been working properly lately. I don’t even know what to write on my blog right now. I’m just kinda blabbing away, typing every word that comes to mind, and stop mid-sentence when it suddenly goes blank. I guess today is going to be a short post, just like my attention span. Got to wake up bright and early tomorrow morning to go to work anyway. So, until next time!

p.s. I just remembered another good thing that happened this week: a guy I kinda have a crush on accidentally lift up his shirt, and holy cow.

(I realize that probably sounded a little bit perverted, but hey, I had a bad week; I’d peek on anyone’s abs if that made me feel better).

(I realize how that sounded even weirder).

(Let’s just pretend that didn’t happen),

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My Biggest Fear? Future.

Future is a scary thing. I’m not talking about the future as in flying cars, talking dogs, or living under water. I’m talking about the future as in the future. The time when you grow up, and do adult stuff. Sure, I have the occasional fear of height, or darkness. But those are temporary; those are avoidable. I can just not go to high places, I can just not go to dark places; but I can’t stop the time and avoid the future. As I’m here lying on my bed, writing this post, my brain has divided into two. One half putting together words to pour out, and the other half can’t stop worrying about my future.

I have a plan for my future. Graduate with an associate degree, transfer to my first choice university, graduate with a bachelor of science degree, take a gap year if necessary, if not, proceed to medical school, graduate from medical school, intern in a hospital, residency for a few years, save some money, and move to Africa and work for an organization like Doctors Without Borders.

I am about to get my associate degree, so I’m not to worried about that. It’s the transfer decision that scares me. What if I don’t get into the school that I want? What if I have to go to a school that I feel eh about for the rest of my college life? Ever since I submitted my application and supplement essay, I can’t stop thinking about it. I applied to six different school, and two of which I feel strongly about. And I have to wait a couple of months to hear from them. Months that will be filled with fear and anxiety. But hey, future me, let me know how it turns out, alright?

Man, do I hate being sappy on my blog post, so I’m just going to stop here. I had to let at least a quarter of my fear out.

I promise next post will not be sappy. I swear on my s’mores pop tarts.

Is anyone reading this? I don’t know.

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Clutter of Words

Oh good god, I did not realize how I have missed pouring out the inside of my brain into my blog. My last post was posted on the beginning of my fall quarter in college, which was months ago. I really need to start blogging again (I feel like I have said this a few times, but I swear on my PB&J sandwich that I am actually going to give my best effort to update regularly).

Let’s see,

I don’t think I have anything new to tell, really.

I am finally getting my associates degree the end of spring, which is pretty exciting. I just have to finish this quarter and next quarter, and then I. am out.

I finished my college transfer application (at least most of them) last week. I just have to wait until they have received all the documents I have sent, and spend 4-8 weeks in agony, waiting for their decisions. I have my first choice in mind, but in truth, I doubt that I’ll get in. But, hey, whatever happens, at least I’ve tried.

I have a plan of how I want to spend my summer this year. Although it is only a plan (bold, italic, underline are necessary to emphasize). I don’t think I’ve gone in detail about the month I spent volunteering at a hospital in South Africa last summer, which was in summary: life changing (what a cliche thing to say, but it honestly was), and I’m going to save that for another blog post. But basically, my plan for this summer is essentially the same thing that I did last summer, only this time I planned to go to Tanzania (and I am going to talk about that in another blog post; possibly the same post as the one I’m going to talk about South Africa). But the thing is, with me transferring to a university this fall, having to spend about 50k a year (accommodation, food, and essentials are not included), I don’t thing–actually, I know I can’t afford it. I don’t want to ask my mom because I know she has been working hard enough trying to pay for my education, and I don’t want to add more weight on her shoulder (she is like a tiny 4’11 lady; more weight only gonna make her shorter). So I don’t know how I am going to afford it. And trust me, it is an amazing opportunity. Amaaaazing. This is actually something that I need for my future career.

So right now I am contemplating on starting a GoFundMe account, although I don’t really know that many people, and I am not sure if strangers will be generous enough to donate and help me go after my dream.

so yeah, I don’t know what I’m going to do about that.

I do really really really really (really times infinity) want to go.

By the way, if you are a personal blog like this, and happened to stumble upon mine, let me know! I want to follow more blogs, and I’m not technologically smart enough to figure out a way to search for personal blogs like mine to follow.

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College: Money Sucker

These past few weeks have been so hectic. Heck, the next few weeks are still going to be hectic.

School started three weeks ago, and I. am. exhausted. My schedule for this quarter is somewhat busy even though I’m only taking three classes (four, if you include my three-weeks long computer science class that I have to take for my math class). Aside from that, I got a “job” now. I am a TA for an English professor in my school, which is actually pretty exciting to me. But, I honestly wouldn’t call it a job. First of all, I don’t get paid (now this is not the worst part; in fact I don’t really care at all whether I’m getting paid or not). The thing that annoyed me the most is, the fact that have to pay for it, in return for school credits. I don’t know why I agreed to pay, because let me tell you, my bank account was (and still is) a tundra.

And don’t get me started on the amount of money I have to spend on my textbooks this quarter. Granted, all my classes are science classes, so the textbooks are going to be more expensive than, say, a sociology textbook. But paying $700 for three used textbooks is just ridiculous. No, it’s beyond ridiculous. My textbooks cost almost as much as I spend on rent. I mean, why? What kind of paper do they made of? Gold? Students’ tears (scientifically impossible, but might as well)?

I’m trying not to complain, but it’s hard not to when college is draining me financially, mentally, physically, and have I mentioned financially?

I love college, I love learning things, and I love science. But I hate digging through my checking account for a stack of paper.

I am excited to move, learn more things and transfer to university next year. But I’m not excited that I have to dig even a deeper hole to pay for my tuition.

Help me.

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The End of the Summer

It’s the end of Summer for me, and only a few days away until school starts again.

I thought I was going to make a lot of post on my blog this Summer (since I got 3 months of no school and a lot of time in my hand), but I didn’t. Mainly because I spent the first 2 months on my essays, readings, and other assignments for my online English 102 class, which mostly focused on research paper (which, by the way, I thought I sucked at), then 2 weeks trying to have as much fun as I could, and finally the last 2 weeks wallowing in sadness and being cooped up in my apartment. Now, shall we have a recap? yes, we shall. I mentioned in my previous blog post that I was going to spend the first month in the country where I was born. So I did. It was okay. I got to see my friends from high school, my parents, my sisters, and some of my cousins. I spent most of my time juggling between hanging out with my friends, and writing kick ass essays for my English class to maintain my GPA. I also spent a little bit of my time meeting with relatives and close family friends (and trying not to explode as they-one after another-asked me about my future plans). The best thing about coming back was, I got to drive my car again (I really need to get my ID and take the test to get a driving license here in the US because I really like driving and having my own car).

A month went by, and then it was time for a two-weeks family trip to Turkey. I was not very excited about this trip at first, to be honest. But then as time went on, I found myself enjoying the trip. Turkey was amazing, I loved it and would definitely go back in the future. I rode a hot air balloon in Cappadocia (I can cross that off my bucket list now), which was-for me-the most beautiful part of Turkey. Our tour guide was also amazing. Overall, it was a wonderful, joyous couple of weeks in Turkey. Then I got on a 10 hour flight back to my home country, spent a couple days in my sister’s apartment, and hopped on to another plane for my next trip to Cape Town, South Africa.

My main reason to go to Cape Town for a month was to volunteer at a children’s hospital, and I didn’t think that I would have so much time to have fun and soak in the excitement of the city. First of all, volunteering at the hospital was probably the best decision I had ever made. The kids were precious, and I wish I could bring them all home with me (I almost cried when I left the hospital on my last day, and I never cried for anything before). Second of all, I got to do things that I wouldn’t normally do. I jumped what apparently to be the world’s highest bungee jump bridge (another thing to cross off my bucket list), went on a safari tour, climbed a mountain (I was dying, but it was also on my bucket list), went to the casino, drank legally (and responsibly), and made a lot of new friends (more than I’ve ever made in one year I live in Seattle). It was truly the highlight of my summer-possibly the best month I have ever had in my life, and leaving Cape Town was the hardest thing to do. I have never been so sad to leave a place before, not even when I left to move to US last year. On the bright side, I flew business class home, which in Emirates is basically first class to other airlines (yet another thing to cross off the bucket list, but I wouldn’t mention it to my mother as I don’t know how she would react if she ever finds out I made a not-so-wise financial decision that did a little bit of damage to my bank account to upgrade my flight)

Now, it’s been 10 days since I got back from Cape Town. I’ve been spending those day wallowing in sadness in my small apartment, questioning myself if I had made the right decision to move to Seattle a year ago or if I should have just moved to Cape Town since I was much, much, happier there. I also have spent most of those days watching Netflix, and ironically, eating healthy. I realized I don’t have a lot of friends-or any real friends for that matter-in Seattle. I feel like I had made a mistake, but then again, I do want to go to a really good university in the US next year. I don’t know.

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