Hi guys. I’m back, just in time to procrastinate! Yay!

So there was this cute girl in my art class. I mean this in the nicest way possible: finding a cute girl there was difficult. Really, the Beach Boys knew what they were talking about when they said they wish they all could be California girls (and I do not blame Katy Perry for being proud of the title). There’s a reason they only say Midwest farmer daughters “make you feel alright” and not “oh they are hot or pretty or even cute.” I mean, my female friends looked good. I try not to discriminate, but that’s just how it works haha. And then there were a few other girls that looked good. But the rest? Ugh. Crocs, lisps, and those horridly ugly unisexual brown sandal things: just 3 of the things I didn’t know existed let alone girls paid attention to before I moved to Misery. No judgement here though; some girls can really pull off crocs or those other things. Hey, I bet they’re comfortable. And sometimes lisps work for girls. But it was the combination of their unattractiveness (ugh, plus their “omg we’re so humble, we’re better than everyone” attitudes) that led me to feel this way. Anyway, back on topic…

There was this cute girl in my art class. It was one of my first days there and she seemed pretty nice. I liked her style, I liked the way she carried herself, and she was nice without being uncomfortably nice. Oh yeah, and she was artistic too. The next year she was in another of my classes; some useless class that didn’t end up being needed for graduation at my real school. But anyway, she decided to sit with me, cuz she was nice like that. I liked her. We talked a bit, but not too much. I guess I could’ve tried harder, but really, I didn’t want a reason to want to stay in Misery. Now that I look back though, I don’t think I could’ve turned that into anything. I didn’t ask her to any dances (because of reasons. haha I don’t think I should release that to the public). Oh being a high school boy…

I guess there are several things I have learned from that, even though it wasn’t a “story.” ( Caution: I am about to rant like a girl) I’m pretty sure this already describes pretty much all the stories that involve her haha. First of all, don’t stress about “what ifs.” “What if she was the one for me.” No. IF she was the one, then something would have happened. IF she is the one, then something will happen. I highly doubt that, but I never know. But God does. If she is the one HE has chosen for me, then He will make that happen. I make it sound like I still like her, I don’t, I promise haha. Just in general, I don’t need to worry about that stuff. I’m *insert age here* for goodness sake. I’m definitely not old. You can approximate my age if you don’t already know. There are people in their 30s and 40s finding their “one,” their “soulmate.” Why do I have to be in such a rush? If doors close, then doors close. If she is meant to be mine though, God will open the door again. Or just help me find the right door. So what if I mess things up with a different girl? No point beating myself up about it. Learn, yes. Beat up, no. I can’t change the pass. Like I always say, live with no regrets. Boys and girls, it can get complicated. Relationships are confusing, even before you get into one. Heck, that’s all I’ve been in, the “before” stage. Am I worried? Honestly, a bit. Something just might be wrong with me. But there is nothing wrong with God. If it’ll happen, it’ll happen. If I am to die tomorrow, then I die tomorrow. No big deal. It’s in His hands.

There is no way you just read all that, hahaha. As a sidenote, rants like these are why I totally think I am Ted from How I Met Your Mother. And hey, he’s 30-something. I got plenty of time.

It was the first time I’ve ever been to a baseball game. Basically, baseball was huge there with the St. Louis Cardinals and all. They were all astonished that I have never been to a baseball game of any kind, not even a Little League or high school game. It’s not such a big deal here; it’s either you’re an Angels or Padres fan or you don’t care about baseball haha. Despite this, my Missouri friends were determined to make me go to a game (as well as participate in several other “traditions” that I had not taken part of). Eventually, my best Missouri friend offered to take me to a game. They all teased us that it was a man-date (even though they said we shouldn’t be ashamed? lol) so he brought his girlfriend too, which was cool, but I didn’t talk to her much. I honestly don’t remember how we got to the game… I don’t remember who the Cardinals were playing either. I got a free poster and a free mini-statue thing. The Cardinals lost. But it was just cool spending time with my friend and his girlfriend. We took pictures in front of the skyline. Then we went home. Again, I don’t remember how haha like whether we drove or took the tram thing or what. Overall, it was a pleasant experience. Baseball’s not my thing, but it wasn’t bad. You just have to talk or whatever during the game, it’s not something you watch all the way through haha.

It’s not always bad to try new things. If your friends like it and it doesn’t hurt you in any way, why not try it.

Before I start this post, I want to make sure you know I absolutely love my parents, and I know they love me. I’m not writing this to hate on them or put them down. This is just how it is.

Sometime during the first couple months I lived in Missouri, my parents were driving me home from somewhere. Maybe school or something. I don’t know. I had “disobeyed” them. I forget exactly what I did. Maybe I forgot to wash the dishes or take out the trash or was late to school. There was snow outside and I remember staring at the icicles in the parking lot. Needless to say, I was miserable. It’s pretty safe to assume in all these stories I’m miserable lol (except during prom and when Wolverine came out. And maybe a couple other times haha). I still didn’t understand why I had to live there. I was angry at everyone even though it really wasn’t anybody’s fault. My dad then told me the punishment for my “disobedience.” I was to give him money every time I “disobeyed” him, which was basically always. He always found something to complain about, something I had done wrong even though I have worked my butt off trying to make the best of this experience and still get good grades and be the best person I could be. I exploded. I said something about him taking away my siblings and my friends and my home and everything I loved and now my money. I don’t think I have to add that I burst out in tears, that was also pretty much a daily activity in Missouri lol. Ok, maybe not daily. Maybe weekly. At least monthly. I was furious and miserable, and the only two people in the entire state, er even the entire midwest, seemed to be attacking me. Later, my mom talked to me about it and I felt better. My dad also apologized for making me cry, and he didn’t make me pay for my “disobedience,” but he was still mad at me for yelling at him/them.

Over the time we lived in Missouri, I got closer to my parents. I mean, even when I had friends, it’s not like I saw them all the time. Of course, there were more fights, and more resolve. What did I learn from that? That parents will never understand you. No matter how hard they try, no matter how hard you try, no matter what you guys do, they are your parents and they’ll never understand you as much as a best friend or spouse could understand you. There’s always that generational gap. For me, there’s a cultural gap too. I’ve heard it said that there’s no greater human love than a parent for their child. I believe that, but oftentimes understanding does not come with it. No matter how good of a life you live, they will find faults in you, even if the faults aren’t real. You forget to wash the dishes because you’re worried about studying for finals; they think you’re a reckless rebel who takes pleasure in defying orders. You watch a hilarious movie that happens to have a sex scene; they suddenly think you’re a porn addict. You desperately need to take a break from the stress of school and everything by playing a video game; they think you spent all day playing and didn’t do anything productive. That’s just what they do. They want to protect you and make sure you do everything right, but in some cases they’re pushing you to do what’s wrong. Sometimes they accuse you so much that you start to believe these assumptions yourself and fall into becoming what they wanted you to avoid in the first place. Real friends aren’t like that. Even if they don’t agree with you, they see your side of the story and will listen to you. If they still disagree with you, of course, like your parents or anyone who loves you, they’ll push you to do what’s right. The differences is, often, when you mess up badly, they’ll still understand and forgive you, even if they don’t love you as much as your parents. Parents can get so caught up in disciplining and thinking that everything is about them. When you mess up, they ask themselves where have they themselves gone wrong, even though your decision was most likely not connected to them at all. They love you, so naturally they’ll want to understand you. They’ll say you can talk to them about or ask them anything. Sadly, oftentimes, in my experience, that’s not true either. My parents are amazing, but when it comes to listening and understanding me, it’s not exactly easy for them. I try to honestly and kindly tell them something they do that’s bugging me or, for the lack of a better term, hurting my feelings. From my experience with friends, my friends will do their best to avoid doing what they have done. They will truly apologize, and if they slip up again, they’ll genuinely apologize again and still do their best to avoid those things that annoy me or hurt me. For my parents though, they instantly go to the defensive. If I am being hurt or annoyed, there’s something wrong with me. They think I have a disease or I am trying to be the parent or they want to punish me for feeling that way. Parents often do this and end up alienating their kid, not letting them have genuine conversations about what they genuinely like. Us kids know that funny stories just turn into life lessons, funny movies are our tickets to hell, and our problems are just funny stories. It doesn’t matter how moral your life is. It doesn’t matter how obedient you are. It doesn’t matter that you’ve bent over backwards to please them. It doesn’t matter that you get perfect grades. It doesn’t matter that you’ve never done drugs. It doesn’t matter that you’ve kept your virginity. It doesn’t matter that you’ve carefully selected your friends to reinforce these decisions. It doesn’t matter how “good” you are. They will still find fault in you. They’re your parents. That’s what they do. Of course, I find all these things and decisions important. Please do (or don’t do) those things. But they are personal decisions. They won’t make your parents understand you more. They never will. They love you as much as you can but they can never fully understand you.

That is the longest lesson I have typed I think. lol. Nobody’s gonna read this. But to summarize it, it’s this: your parents love you more than anybody in the world, but they can never understand you. Have real best friends, and if you can find “the one,” your spouse who can love you and understand you, then cherish her/him. Of course, if all else fails, or even before, there is God. He loves you more than your parents could, and He understands you more than your best friend or spouse could. He is always there to love and to understand.

OK, there wasn’t literally lava. Let me explain. There was this guy in my grade who was a bit out there. I still like to say that he is the weirdest kid I’ve ever known. He was very, very outgoing. I didn’t really have any friends yet, although I don’t remember exactly when this happened, other than it was still my sophomore year. He ran into me on the way to class; we were going to the same class. The floor of our school was a tannish color, but there were also red and teal tiles. Actually, now I can’t remember which color was dominant. I suppose I could check pictures. Anyways, I don’t know if he noticed I was down or that I didn’t really have friends yet, but he decided to talk to  me (me being terribly shy, I almost never start conversations, especially not with strangers). Now, of course, this isn’t word for word, but our conversation went something like this:
Him: Hey, how’s it going?
Me: OK.
We keep walking.
Him: Oh my gosh, you’re on fire.
Me: What?
Him: You stepped on the lava. See the red tiles? Those are all lava. Now you have to step on the blue ones cuz those are water.
I laugh.
Me: Oh, ok.
I jump to a blue square.
Him: Now you have to hurry and get on land or else you’ll drown!
He was pointing at the tannish tile.
The rest of our way to class, we jump over red lava, avoid the teal/blue lava as much as possible, and stay on the tannish land. Sure, we may have looked like idiots. But one person looking like an idiot makes him weird or crazy; two or more people make it look funny. haha And it was fun. Not gonna lie. haha The rest of my time there, I would secretly avoid all the red tiles (though it would have taken too much effort to avoid the teal ones as well).  It gave me something to do, something to think about so I didn’t have to focus on my problems all the time.

I’m not sure if he knows, but that kid taught me a lot of things. He was so different from me that I still cannot understand him at all. But that’s probably why I learned so many things from him. I’m sure he probably appeared in some of my stories I told earlier. If not, I was probably saving them, cuz he’s just too hilarious haha. What did I learn from this story? I learned that little things count. A small act of kindness goes a long way. Sure, it’s cliche, but cliches are cliches for a reason. I think that’s a cliche too haha. Don’t be afraid to be a little weird. Be yourself, and reach out to others. A little, seemingly stupid game can mean an escape from one’s burdens, even if it’s just on the way to class. It is never a bad idea to be genuinely friendly.

I feel like I may have typed about this before. But typing about it again wouldn’t hurt. So, in honor of finals that I am studying for now, I’ll reminisce to one of the biggest finals disasters I have had yet. It was the final for the year, not the final for the first semester (which could be called a midterm I suppose). I studied for this final, but I wasn’t too worried about it. I had gotten 100%’s for MOST of my chemistry tests. If not, it was some kind of lower A+ (which sounds like an oxymoron haha). I guess I was just good at the subject (but I ended up getting a B+ in the class, not because of the final; I’ll save that story for another time). Anyway, I entered with my swag calculator, pretty confident about myself. But then the test came. It wasn’t hard. But it took me. So. Long. Did I mention I had a flight right after school? Back home, yup. The day I had been looking forward to since I returned from home in the first place haha. I spent so much time reading and double checking each question, that I was not only the last student there, I had to take an extra 20ish minutes AFTER school to finish it up (since it was my LAST final on the LAST day). I couldn’t call my mom to tell her I’d be late, since she was waiting in the parking lot for me to go to the airport, cuz that could be considered cheating. I sped through the remaining questions as fast as I could. I don’t remember what I got on the final. Maybe an A, maybe a B+.

Later in life you (me) don’t really remember the details. You remember you passed or you failed. You did well or you didn’t. You did your best or you could have done better. You spent too much time or you didn’t spend enough. This was too much. Maybe it was a lesson on cockiness. But I think it’s a lesson on this: it’s ok to make mistakes. Sure, it’s better to be safe than sorry, but there IS such a thing as too safe. Don’t be so caught up in decision making and double checking that you miss your flight to happiness. Thankfully, we were not even close to being late for our flight back home. But maybe next time we won’t be as lucky.

It’s been a while since I’ve written in here. What I didn’t want to happen happened. I’m slowly becoming more and more like I was before what I learned from my Missouri experiences. So it’s time to force myself to reminisce some more.

Well, this one isn’t really reminiscing. The Epic 8 was my group of friends. There were 8 of us. Well, 9 actually, but they didn’t really like my best friend until I left. hahaha. He kind of replaced me though, so they were still 8 after I left. Even though we were only friends for about a year, I would never be able to fit all those memories in one post. I’m writing now to talk about how they are today. They were the best of friends and had the best times. But now, not so much. Why? I wish I really knew. Some people think that if you’re good enough friends with someone, you’ll end up being best friends for the rest of your life, even if you don’t see each other much anymore. But if at all possible, you guys will see each other. It’s like siblings; there’s still that bond (unless you absolutely hate each other). Then there are people who think that after high school, it’s done. You’re moving away into a new life. New friends. The old ones are irrelevant. The Epic 8 I guess somewhat became a mixture of both. Some of them went to the same school and room together. Though I do not talk to them much, whenever I hear about them, they seem to be doing fine and still the same crazy people I knew. Then there’s the ones that went to different schools by themselves (er, without Epic 8 friends) who made new best friends, yet still hang out with the old ones when possible. Then there’s the ones who created their whole new world, and, for the most part, forgot about the rest. I don’t know why. That’s totally something that I could never do. And the rest of the Epic 8 is quite upset about it.

Life is short. Life is tough. Insert more cliches about life here. Let’s face it. We need friends. I am always overly wary about making new friends because first of all I do not want them to hurt me. But second of all, if I want them to be part of my life, they better be there for me for pretty darn long. And another cliche is that you need to be a friend to have a friend. Or something like that lol. I never really liked cliches. But anyway, friends are important. Be careful who you choose to stick around and who you choose to let go of. Of course, there will be times friends must go. Like they have to move away for some reason. If they’re truly a good friend, they’ll still be your friend when you see them again. But there are also the friends who must go. As in, they are bad for you, and you just cannot be around them anymore. All this to say, choose your friends wisely. And when I say “you” I mostly mean me. Talking to myself in the second person, yup, I’m becoming more like my Missouri self lol. If you choose your friends right, you will never truly be alone.

I haven’t posted here in forever haha. I also have no idea who is following this Tumblr. But whatever. So in Missouri, I met the ugliest guy I have ever met. I’m not gonna give any clues as to who it is. But really, before him, I’ve met some not-so-physically-attractive people (me included), but I mean, no one I knew was really that bad. And he didn’t have any disease or anything, so I’m not being mean. He was just… ugly. Well, I guess that’s kinda mean, but no one knows who I’m talking about so I hope that’s ok haha. Most not-so-good-looking-people have a certain flaw, like oh they have zits, or their eyes are kinda big, or they’re really skinny, or they’re a little big, but it’s understandable. But this guy… when I met him, I was fascinated by the ugliness. I didn’t want to look but at the same time, I did. There were many flaws, seemingly unfixable flaws. idk if other people were repulsed by his looks, but people liked him. I’m not gonna say why cuz that might give it away haha.

So, lesson is, physical appearance isn’t everything. If ugly people can have other sides to them. And be glad you don’t live in Missouri with super ugly people. hahaha jk. Kinda.

Soo a couple of my best friends just had a surprise goodbye party. It’s so sad, I don’t want them to leave, but I’m glad their school friends did that for them. At least for me, it seems like both school and childhood friends have been through so much with you, but the difference is school friends won’t be around as long. Of course there are exceptions, but once we graduate, we get separate lives. As for childhood friends, for me it seemed unreal that I could be separated from them. To me it was like, we’ve been separated before, we’re pretty much like brothers, they’ll always be around whether I like it or not, and if we do move far away from each other, best believe I’m crashing at your house no matter what you say if I ever go by where you live haha. Reading about my friends’ party reminded me of my goodbye party when I moved to Misery. Unlike their party, I planned mine. Similarly, it was in December, but I don’t remember what day. My family and I had recently come back from our first visit to Misery. The day before my party, my mom told me that pest control people had to come to our house, but they’d be done before it was time for my party. I was somewhat ok with it, cuz I figured most of them would be late anyway. We couldn’t be home before the pest control people were done, so my mom dropped me off at another of my best friends’ house. I chilled there for a while, then my sister picked me up. I asked her if any of my friends showed up, and she said they haven’t. She dropped me off at the front door, I forget why. I thought I saw something through the window, but I wasn’t sure what. I opened the door, and heard “SURPRISE!” I didn’t know what to think. I don’t know who I saw first. Honestly, I was thinking, “Oh shoot, they see my Guitar Hero controller, they’ll want to play.” (I brought it to my friend’s house so we could play 2 player on his, but I didn’t want my school friends to play because… well idk, I just didn’t, I wanted to do something else).

The party consisted of what my birthday parties with them usually consisted of. I don’t remember exactly what we did, but similar to my friends’ goodbye party, we played Super Smash (Melee, Brawl wasn’t out yet. Black Ops wasn’t out yet either, and that’s my excuse, not cuz I’m completely horrible at 1st person shooters haha). Also similar to my friends’ party, we sang karaoke, that was awesome haha. I’m pretty sure they played Mario Party also (7, I think?). We also played Guesstures, at that time, my mixed emotions of confused, sad, and happy turned into frustration and I got really mad for no reason lol. We probably played hide and seek too, I just don’t remember it. Once there were only two people left at the party, we finally played Guitar Hero (4). Those were the days. My school friends loved me, and I will always love them. I cherish that memory, probably one of the few parties I’ve had for me that I will remember forever.

Two years later, I’m back home. One of those friends I see on a regular basis. I graduated with 4 more of them. I saw another 5 of them graduate. Another one of them went to church with me until I moved for college. The rest of them I saw every once in a while. Most, if not all of them, were at my Welcome Home party (even though the banner at my goodbye party said “Welcome Home” haha). They’re still my friends, I’m on good terms with all of them. However, I can’t really say the same for them as a group. I don’t know what happened, but nothing was ever the same. Some of them continued to be close friends; others drifted away with an occasional “Hi” and some catching up. I’ll never forget them, they were my friends, but now we have separate lives.

I thank God for the times I’ve had with them. Those were awesome times. Most of the memories were fun, but not all. There were times we struggled, but those also have helped define each of us as individuals. I also thank God for the love they’ve shown me. I pray they will have happy, prosperous lives. I also thank God for my other friends, my “better” friends, my brothers, who will always be there for me, even if they move up north or to the Philippines. Friends may come and go, but best friends/brothers never really leave, though they may be physically distant.

Whether it was at chapel or church, the times I felt most at home when I definitely was not were during worship. Last night I was at an all-worship chapel at my new school, and I absolutely loved it. There are very few things I enjoy more than singing, and to be able to do it for my Lord is the best. I absolutely dreaded chapel days in my Missouri school, but worship was usually the highlight of my week. I could sing my heart out as long as I was far enough from other people, or if the other people didn’t mind. Some would compliment my singing afterward, but that doesn’t really matter much because I was doing it for God, not for them. And at the small church we went to, the worship leader/pastor saw how much I enjoyed worship and wanted to push me further in that ministry. But, however, I enjoy it because it’s between me and God. I’m not good enough to be a worship leader, and if I did, I would be so self-conscious about how I’m singing and if I’m doing it right and a whole buncha other stuff. I mean, of course I think of those things now because I’m singing to God, not to some homeless person. But if it was in front of other people, it wouldn’t be the same. I might be doing it for others rather than for Him.

No matter where you are, you can worship God. Whether through singing, or other ways. And despite how cheesy it sounds, when you’re alone, He’s there.

So this was the same time as my first time in a basement. Of course, I barely knew the people there and I didn’t have any friends yet there. So I texted people at home. You know what the people there called me? A text whore! I was like, “Gee, thanks!” (not really.) They were just kidding, but still. I remember that haha.

Watch what you say. People remember things. Never assume just cuz you’re kidding means they won’t be offended.