my parents expect me to graduate

To all my overachievers who don’t get praise from parents and loved ones anymore because it’s just expected of you to do well: I’m proud that you passed that test, I’m happy you graduated with honors, I love that you try your hardest all the time.

I know sometimes the lack of support and encouragement from those whose opinions matter the most to you can be disheartening, but keep pushing through and being the amazing person you are.

Forever an immigrant

In 1996, my dad was assigned to go work overseas at Samsung’s new semiconductor chip manufacturing plant in Austin, Texas. Initially, he was hesitant to go. It would mean uprooting his entire life, and plus he didn’t want his children growing up losing sight of their Korean heritage. But they sent him anyway, and thus began our family’s strange, but exciting new life in America, born out of my dad’s enormous sacrifice.

There were language barrier issues and little culture shock mishaps since the beginning, sure. Since the first grade, I remember starting off every new school year with a plea to not to embarrass myself by messing anything up with my English, to not give away the fact that I was different in any way from my classmates. But my dad’s fears came true as I gradually became more comfortable speaking English to my friends than speaking Korean at home. I knew the conversion became complete as soon as I started dreaming and thinking in English. It made my school life easier for me at the time, but looking back on it now, I wish I hadn’t been so quick to try to assimilate.

My mom and dad moved back to Korea when I left for college, their parental duties having been fulfilled by giving their kids that “coveted” American education. That’s why it came as such a shock to me when they casually dropped a bombshell — after 20 years of forming my life and identity in the US, they wanted me to come back to Korea after graduation. To them, it was expected that their kids would learn everything they could from America, then return to Korea and make use of what they’d learned.

I fought, cried, and argued with them for months. I was finally ready to enter the world I had worked so hard to be accepted by, and this felt like wiping out right before the finish line. Then, three months before graduation, my dad had a stroke and the decision was made for me. I finished school early and decided to forego the graduation ceremony because I knew what I had to do — I would be going back to live with my parents, at least until my dad got better and I gained some sort of idea about what I wanted to do with my life. We made an informal deal that I would stick it out for three years, and give my birthplace a chance. And like a dutiful daughter, I did what they asked me to, working and living for three years in a country that was now as foreign as America first was to me in 1996.

People in Korea often ask gyopos (Korean-Americans), “Which do you like better, Korea or America?” They look at me expectantly, jealousy in their eyes for my fluent English and American citizenship. I don’t know what answer they’re looking for. I usually laugh and give my stock response, one I’ve picked up from hearing so many times: “Korea is the most fun Hell, but America is the most boring Heaven.” It’s a desperate, vague attempt to appease both of my identities. Looking back on my words now, I’m ashamed. How did I live my life thinking this, so blissfully unaware? After the events of last night, I can no longer think of America as the heaven I once thought it was.

Three lonely but eye-opening years passed. I experienced the beautiful and ugly sides of Korea, traveled to nearby countries in Asia, and saw how privileged I was to be able to live this dual life. After I finally saved up enough money to move back on my own and secured a job in America, I made the leap. For the most part, repatriation has been a smooth transition, but I’m consumed by guilt and dread for the future when I think about the aging parents I left behind in Korea. Though they gave their reluctant blessing to let me have the life and career I’ve longed to have in America, their worries are ever-looming in the back of my mind. I want to prove to them that they made the right decision, but every day is a struggle to convince my parents that I am okay here, that I’m safe in a country 7,000 miles away from them. And now in the wake of Trump’s victory, the implications that a deeply racist nation elected him make it harder for me to justify my living here to them.

The past few years for me have been the most accelerated crash-course in learning what it means to be Korean-American, and last night felt like a “fuck you” to everyone who looks like me. An Asian immigrant, and a woman at that. It feels like the failed culmination of a 20-year struggle to fit in, of yearning to look like my white classmates, for someone to look at me and not think I’m completely out of place. I’m most afraid of people who I thought were my friends, but stayed silent and walked into the voting booth yesterday to cast a ballot for Trump. I knew America feared us, but this just confirmed it. It feels like a punch to the gut because it proves that my parents were right.

I’m lucky to have spent most of my formative years in California and to be currently living in the diversity of New York, but yesterday, my paranoia that the people around me don’t see me as part of their white America was confirmed. Even though my job has allowed me to surround myself with like-minded people, ultimately my carefully curated social media feed has allowed me to live this last election cycle in a bubble. But now that bubble has popped, and today feels like when the lights turn on at the club and you realize you’d been dancing with a dirty mop.

The most disturbing part about a Trump presidency is the fact that half the people who came out to vote agreed with a sexist, racist maniac — and half of all Americans stayed home and watched him get elected. And these people aren’t so visibly different from you, or me. Even the Hillary supporters right now, the ones who are looking for ways out by threatening to leave to Canada, are part of the problem. Now more than ever, we need white allies to step up and show their support for millions of Muslim, Black, Latino, Asian, and LGBTQ+ Americans who have always been — even more so today — living in fear. Something is incredibly broken when the immediate response to a new president-elect is “I’m scared.”

For the rest of us POCs, we have to keep living our lives and create art and make ourselves heard, because we can’t keep waiting around for America to do it for us. We’re a nation of immigrants and minorities, and we’re going to keep creating and building things that are going to be better than a fucking wall.

anonymous asked:

okay lucien was at his dads wedding, what if it was the other way around? (idk who lucien marries, ernest or something, idk xD) please and thank you

[lucien’s fiance is whoever you want, set after damien and robert got married]

“I want you to be my best man.”

Damien nearly drops the entire tray he’s holding.

“Your… what?”

Lucien absentmindedly twirls the ring on his left hand, only occasionally glancing up at his father. “For my wedding–the one I told you about two weeks ago, remember?”

“Of course I remember!” It’s not every day Damien’s only son actually met someone and fell in love with them and moved in with them and oh, god, he sits down beside his son on the couch, turned slightly to face him. “I just don’t understand–why? Parents aren’t typically…”

“I know,” he mumbles, a trait that never left even after he grew out of his teenage years. It’s both endearing and irritating at the same time. “I was the best man at your wedding, wasn’t I?”

“You’re my son! You’re the closest person to me, Lucien, and children typically… don’t harbor the same relationship with their parents. What about your friends?”

“They’re in the bridal party. I wanted you to be my best man.”

Lucien’s voice is so sure and without humor that Damien feels himself clam up. There’s no way he’s serious–not when their relationship was so… awkward for so many years.

Keep reading

ill never forget the time during my middle school graduation a kid in my class got up on stage to play the piano and i was expecting some classical piece or smth. it took me like three seconds to realize he was playing the tokyo ghoul opening song. parents were shedding tears. so was i. but my tears were for kaneki

Pro tip || Phil Lester

A/N: Hey! Surprise!! so many of you wanted me to write a Phil imagine so I did! This was a request by @shyecti! Sorry for the awful name by the way I just had to!

POV: Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

MASTERLIST

Originally posted by astronautdan

He walked in and for a second time slowed down and the earth stopped turning. Working as a waitress on the weekends I see a lot of people all the time. Most of them just look the same to me, but he was different.

The stranger had dark black hair and really light skin. Although he was wearing an expensive looking suit he was wearing bright red socks underneath his leather dress shoes. He was maybe a little bit older than me but I was never the best at guessing somebody’s age.

I was interested to see if somebody was accompanying him but he seemed to have come on his own.

It was a Saturday night and the restaurant I was working at had been pretty busy all day, now that it was getting late there were mainly a few couples who were drinking wine left.

To be honest I was totally exhausted, I had exams all week and having to run around the restaurant all day really made my feet and back hurt. The cherry on top of this great week was probably the little kid that spilled spaghetti all over the apron, that I had to wear as my working uniform, today.

With surprise, I noticed that weird-sock guy didn’t sit down at one of the tables. I was standing behind the bar and cleaned a few glasses since all of the guests were currently sorted and secretly watched him.

He spoke to one of my colleagues and seemed to have ordered something before he started walking directly towards me.

The young man that had all of my attention sat down on one of the bar stools right in front of me. I freaked out a little, he was even better looking close up.

“Good evening. Can I get you something?” I asked him with a friendly smile.

“Sure, I’ll take a gin tonic while I wait.” He said, his Northern accent prominent in his deep voice.

“Already on the way.” I chirped with a nod before I started preparing his drink.

By now I figured that he had ordered some take away and he was just waiting for the food to finish.

I was just pouring the gin over a few ice cubes that I had put in a glass as he introduced himself to me.

“I’m Phil by the way, are you new here? I have never seen you before.”

There was something about him that fascinated me. I was so glad that he decided to start a conversation.

“I’m Y/N, I just work here on the weekends.” I explained politely and handed him his gin tonic.

He took the ice-cold drink into his huge hands and delightfully took the first sip.  

“And what do you do when you don’t work here?” Phil wanted to know, setting down his glass and looking at me. He seemed genuinely interested.

“Well, during the week I struggle at college.” I said with a little laugh, but it was one hundred percent true.

Since I have to work all weekend I need to do all of my school work during the week and also attend my classes. It was pretty stressful and sometimes it just got too much especially because my parents expect me to have amazing grades all the time.

“You may not believe it but I can totally relate to that!” Phil laughed while I shot him a confused and shocked look.

“OH no, I’m not at college anymore, I graduated like 3 years ago, but I haven’t forgotten those times.” Phil explained eagerly as soon as he saw my facial expression.

That made sense to me, I would have been surprised if he weren’t older than me.

‘He is only 3 years older than you’ the voice in my head screamed with excitement. That was indeed a reasonable age gap.

“So, what are you majoring in, Y/N?” He asked me curiously and the way he said my name made my heart melt.

“English Literature” I answered. “…I know it sounds boring.” I quickly added, already expecting the standard reaction.

“Boring? I also did English Lit but then I started an additional IT course and now I run an IT firm. Life has a weird way of working, but I am not complaining.”  

I tried to not seem too impressed but that sounded incredibly interesting. The reason why he wore such a nice suit was because he was the head of a business that seemed to be pretty successful!

“Enough about me, I want to know more about you. Why do you struggle at college? Is Mrs. Horthon still teaching English Lit?” Phil wanted to know, laughing a little.

“Oh my god, you know her!? She was awful! We threw the biggest party of the whole semester after she retired.” I told him excitingly remembering the possibly craziest night of my life so far.

“I wish I was at that party!” Phil chuckled and then asked me to continue talking about myself.

“Well, I guess I’m just a little bit stressed out all the time. I barely manage all of the work I need to do for college but I can’t quit this job because I need the money.” I explained with a sigh as I dried off another shot glass.  

After that me and Phil ranted about tuition fees and he even told me that he had to work at a pizzeria during his college times.

“The order for Lester is ready!” Andy, one of my colleagues exclaimed.

“Oh that’s me then.” Phil told me as he got up from the bar stool and put on his jacket.

“It was really nice to meet you Y/N.” He smiled and said goodbye as he placed some money on the counter to pay for his drink.

I was disappointed that he had to leave, I wanted to talk to him all night. Just as he walked away I realized that I would probably never see him again.

‘Phil Lester, the one that got away’ I joked in my head, remembering his last name.

I never really believed in love at first sight but because of him I wasn’t so sure anymore.

With a sad smile, I grabbed his money only to find out that he had given me a roll of cash. With pure shock, I realized that those weren’t one dollar bills but one hundred dollar bills!

I had never in my life seen so much money at once before. It was so much that I wouldn’t have to work at all anymore, but I couldn’t keep it.

My eyes quickly scanned the room for Phil’s black hair but he was nowhere to be seen. I headed over to Andy, the colleague that got Phil his food.

“Where is the young man with the weird socks ?!” I nearly shouted at him, earning a few rude stares.

“He took his food and left?? Why??” Andy told me, looking at me like I was out of my mind.

“He already left? He left a way too big tip, I need to give it back.”

“C’mon a tip can’t be too big, I bet he just liked you.” Andy tried to convince me but as I showed him the money in my hands his eyes doubled in size.

“Holy shit, Y/N! That’s like more worth than my entire existence!”

“Not helping, Andy!” I complained.

Not knowing what else to do I opened the roll of money. My heart nearly jumped out of my rib cage as I saw a little note between all of those dollar bills.

It was a simple sheet of white paper that somebody had quickly scrabbled something on.

I hope this helps.

I was internally screaming with both happiness and utter frustration. But then I saw that there was also a note on the back.

Ps. Now that you won’t work here anymore I need a way to still see you. Why don’t you call me?

0987654321 – Phil

“Ha I told you he likes you.” Andy grinned and although I playfully hit his shoulder I was staring down at Phil’s phone number with a huge smile.

An Open Letter to A7X

To Avenged Sevenfold:

Before I start this letter, let me just preface it with the fact that I have been having some hand/nerve issues and my writing may become disjointed because of that.

I first found out about y’all four—almost five—years ago. The reason I got into y’all is probably a little different than other fans. I’m an avid reader and one of the books I read said to understand the book better, the reader needed to look up the lyrics to “Dear God” by Avenged Sevenfold and then to listen to it. So, like a good reader, I did. I fell in love with that song and had to hear more from this band. (I thought y’all were country). The second song I heard was “Hail to the King” and the change in pace and tempo made me love the band even more. I bought that album (it had just come out) and started listening to all of your other songs. It took about six months for me to get through all the albums, but when I had, you had all awakened a part of me I didn’t know existed.

From my appreciation of your music, I started looking into other hard rock and heavy metal bands. Obviously, I knew who Metallica was, but I started digging into more of their stuff and even got into Judas Priest and Pantera, bands my parents hated and bands I thought I would never like.

When I got my resident assistant job, I was listening to “MIA” and that song became my lucky one. Unfortunately, some things in my life happened that might have torn down another person. It was y’all and other metal bands that helped me through.

You see, I’m a soon-to-be college graduate who has had a difficult six years, but the last two years of my life have been rougher than I ever expected them to be.

It all started in November 2015 when I got this terrible lower abdominal pain. I thought it was cramps or ovulation pain; the emergency room in Texas couldn’t find anything wrong with me. Flash forward to winter break, and I’ve had this pain for four weeks now. My wonderful mom got me into a surgeon, and I’d never been more nervous. I’d only had my wisdom teeth removed, so an actual surgery terrified me. They took me in and let me listen to a couple of songs (“Gunslinger” and “Strength of the World”) before I went under. It turned out I had two ruptured cysts and appendicitis. I easily could have gotten a terrible infection from either.

Time wears on, and I head back to my university (University of North Texas, go Mean Green!). I’m an athlete, have been for most of my life. I run/ran three times a week. My knee started to dislocate when I ran, but I could just pop it back in place. Eventually, it got to the point where running and even walking hurt too much. I waited until summer and returned home to see what the hell was wrong.

From all my years of soccer and running, and continuing to play soccer after a knee injury five years ago, I had torn the ligament that attaches my femur to my patella—the most rare knee surgery. A week before my knee surgery, my incredibly wonderful mother found out that my alcoholic father had stolen and gambled away $3,000 from their joint account. That same say, my father found out that his mother was dying. He flew out to San Antonio to deal with that situation. Mom started the process for divorce. Literally an hour before my knee surgery, I found out my grandmother had died.

When I woke up, I was in the worst pain of my life. My knee had to be immobile for four weeks before I could start physical therapy. I was up every four hours to take Percocet, which we later found out I’m allergic to. Having my leg (my dominate leg) taken away from me and not being able to do things for myself filled me with anger. A lot of what helped me through was y’all and bands similar to you. Post-knee surgery me was the worst, but your music helped me through.

Fast forward again, and I’m now back at school in my final year (Fall 2016) and my life was looking up. I found a publisher for my books, I would be turning 21 in November, and I’d get to see my favorite band with my best friend at Texas Mutiny.

Texas Mutiny was the most incredible concert of my life. I smuggled my DSLR camera in (don’t tell anyone) and captured some of the best photos of my life. That concert helped me figure out what I wanted to do with my photojournalism degree. And for my 21st birthday, my friends surprised me with a signed vinyl of The Stage and several of your CDs. It cheered me up because my birthday was on Election Day and very few people remembered it… which was understandable.

However, my life can’t always be sunshine and rainbows. Nine days before my birthday, I was rushed to the ER after puking up my guts. The ultrasound technician found five ovarian cysts. Three of them were the size of my uterus, and I needed immediate surgery. Because I’m a college student “immediate” meant my next time off. My Thanksgiving break was recovery and more of your music. My wonderful mom came down to Denton to help me through that surgery.

My 2016 winter break was spent writing and getting my older sister to listen to your songs. She really enjoys the white album and even some songs on The Stage. I also examined that album and just fell in love with basically every song. My cover for my book came in, and I got inspired to write a collection of short stories based on songs. My favorite bands are featured quite a bit… I hope that’s okay.

Now, I’m back at school again and my stomach pain comes back. Two months after surgery and the ovarian cysts were back. But something even worse happened at the end of January 2017. I’m a writer and a photographer who depends on her hands for work and stress relief.

At the end of January, my hands started to malfunction. They can’t fully flex of fist, they’re always cold, they get numb and tingling, my wrists and elbows hurt, and my joints are very stiff. My spring break was spent back in Reno getting tests done. They ruled out anything wrong with my central nervous system—thank god—but the pain still remains. And I was scared. I’m still scared actually. I have psoriatic arthritis and it’s incurable. Really the only things helping me are music, the Deathbat nation, my friends, and my mom. To make matters worse, my father had two heart attacks and two surgeries right before I came home. He only has maybe 2-5 years left. He’s an asshole, but I love him.

I know that was the longest intro ever, and y’all are probably wondering why I’m writing this at all at this point. My name is Carmen, and I’m a photojournalist (almost) and recently published author who just wants to thank you guys for everything you’ve done for me and the other fans. So here’s my long list of thank yous.

To all the guys: thank you for forming Avenged Sevenfold. Without you coming together, I wouldn’t have found a lot of my friends. Your music has gotten me through some of the most difficult situations in my life and your music has inspired my writing and made me a better person (the writing portion). There’s something about your music that just speaks to people and has made my life so much brighter. I can’t wait to see you and Metallica in June!

To Brooks: I know you haven’t been with the band long, but I’m glad you’re with them! I loved your drumming when you were with Tenacious D and Bad Religion. You definitely remind me of the dad friend out of all the guys, and I think it’s awesome to see what you add to the band. Your drumming on The Stage is also INSANE. I love what you did on “Angels.”

To Johnny Christ: I don’t think you’re a gnome for starters. You’re much taller than my short ass. All jokes aside, I love how you are on stage. You exude so much passion and energy; I wish I had gotten more photos at Texas Mutiny. You sing/shouting on “Nightmare” also adds a little depth to the song and never fails to put a smile on my face. Oh! Congrats on your son.

To Zacky V: I’m ambidextrous because I have to be from the hand issues, and I so rarely see left-handed musicians that every time I watch you play, it gives me hope. I’m not musically inclined at all, but knowing a lefty is out there brightens my day. You have such an awesome style and your skill with the guitar is out of this world. I hope we can get more solos from you.

To Synyster: dude, you are one of the best guitarists I’ve heard, excluding Santana. I could pick your style out so easily. The work you’ve done with A7X and Pinkly Smooth just blow me away. I can’t believe someone can have talent and skill like that. You are a guitar god, Mr. Haner.

To Shadows: as a writer, I most easily connect with words. Your lyrics speak to me on a spiritual level (which is probably why I have so many tatted on me). You have a way with words. And your voice is so unique and every time I hear “Dear God,” I remember why this band became my favorite. Just, thank you for doing what you do.

To the women of A7X (Val, Michelle, Lacey, Megan, etc.): thank you guys for being you. I hope you know how much love the Deathbat nation has for you. Without your support, the band probably wouldn’t be where they are (no offense guys).

To the fans: thank you guys! I have met so many amazing people through this band. Y’all have helped me through a lot, and I’ve met some good friends through it. Sevenfold has cultivated a fan base unlike any other, and I’d like to thank every Deathbat for who they are and for being so caring and for taking care of me.

So, I just want to say thank you from a fan who’s been through a lot and has made it through thanks, in part, to your music and the most supportive mother ever. The only thing I have to add is that my dream is to one day meet y’all and thank y’all in person. And this final part is going to sound so fucking cheesy, but I hope y’all sign my Deathbat and that the writer side of me gets to write your extended (not brief) biography.

Thanks again for all you have done.

Sincerely,

Carmen

anonymous asked:

Your response about not talking bad about your ex was beautiful and inspiring. I know it is centered in raising healthy kids, but It seems like there is still some love there. Could you guys ever get back together? Do you feel like your experience of coming from a broken home has shaped your response now?

Thank you.
This is a question I can’t really answer publicly without giving too much away.

I can say this: in my opinion, when you put a ring on someone’s finger, you commit to being their family. The vows you make: in richer and in poorer, in sickness and in health, etc… those vows are to become a family. You don’t give up on family. If you’re unsure, don’t get married.

In the same way that I would never stop loving my son or daughter; I would have never given up on my wife. My vows were sincere.

With that said, I would never go back now.
It seems like I’m contradicting myself, but there is so much that I have to leave unsaid.
There are many things I haven’t even shared with Megan.
If we didn’t have children, I would lay it all out there, and you would understand.
I can’t though.

You’re right that my parent’s divorce is what made me terrified of divorce.
I experienced it as a kid does, so I have the same fears for my kids that caused me grief as a kid: splitting holidays, awkward graduations and baseball games, stepparents and step siblings. The new marriages were still flawed. And the step parents’ exes are also a struggle in different ways. We never had a home base for holidays. These things have deeply affected all 9 of us.

I voiced these fears, but Megan was certain that we were the exception, and that we wouldn’t let it get ugly.

My parents divorce wasn’t ugly though. It was sad. It was embarrassing, but it was never cruel.

Now I’m experiencing divorce as an adult. OMG… I never expected this. The grief I had as a kid is nothing compared to what this has been like.
There is so much that kids don’t experience because their parents protect them from it.
I’m partially grateful my parents kept me from this, but also frustrated too.

Everyone should know what they’re doing when they get married. Everyone should know what breaking those vows feels like. What coparenting is really like.
This is why those vows should mean something.
I don’t know if I can ever forgive her for breaking those vows. I was once so confident that I had made it in life. Starting over with two kids and a broken heart feels impossible. Cutting someone out of your family, after you’ve had their kids together, is bullshit.

I should stop ranting. I’m getting heated.

Please though, don’t get married if you don’t love someone. Don’t make vows that you won’t keep. You’re the only one who gets to walk away from that unhurt.

I argue with my parents a lot about how hard my life has been and they always always always tell me off, because I have it WAY easier than they did back in the 80’s.

Something they always bring up is the internet. Apparently they didn’t have the internet!! Imagine that!! Going to the library and looking at references and atlases and microfiche copies of hundred-year-old newspapers. Oh wait, we have the internet now, which also has those things… but not in any order, and who knows if those sites we get that info from are even credible. It takes a lot longer to do research now than back in the 80’s. In the 80’s you didnt need to question every source because there werent ‘bad’ sources. And then you have to consider those really old newspapers and articles and journals, and even scientific papers. Most of them are REALLY OLD. So old that the paper companies havent had time or the will or the want to put them online. So all those sources, which are probably hidden away in storage facilities or hidden behind subscription fees or lost to time are no longer accessible. AT ALL. So yeah, we may have the internet to speed things up a bit, but that doesnt mean it’s speeding everything up.

Next item is jobs. My parents are Gen X. Gen X was almost guaranteed jobs in the 80’s and 90’s when they were graduating high school. My mom has had jobs since she was 11! I work now where my dad got HIS first job when he was 15. A lot of companies needed people back then. The job market favored Gen X. But now, as Gen Z is starting to graduate, a lot of us are finding that there are no jobs for us, and if we are, it’s either by luck or through someone we know. My job is at a restaurant that I’ve been going to literally my entire life. I know them. And I have cousins and aunts and uncles who either need someone to work or know someone who could take me. But even then, those jobs arent paying livable wages. Back in the 80’s when my parents graduated, they had jobs pretty much right away, out of high school. Nowadays it’s expected that you went to college amd have a degree for jobs you dont even NEED degrees in! And as we know from the Millennials, college is a waste of money. It’s actually more worthwhile to get a basic job out of high school now and stay with your parents until either a) you marry and get a house or b) save up and pay for community college. And dont forget all the stress placed on students now. In my parents’ time, C was good. Now, if you’re not getting A’s in every class your parents think you’re the dumbest human on earth. Or even worse, they dont even care what you do! And so now theres a good chunk of Gen Z who just dont have even the basic skills needed to live, or raise a family. And all that stress is also causing some of the highest rates of depression, anxiety, suicide, and mental illnesses weve ever seen!

I’ve even done the math on this. The typical college student takes 5 classes, or 15 hours a week. Add to that 8hrs PER CLASS every week to study, as the teachers suggest, and that brings it to 55 hours a week. Next, add commute times. On average the college commuter puts about 10 hours a week just into commuting. So now we have 65 hours in one week of average college. That’s not just a job, that’s a job on overtime! And we have to pay for that!!! And even then our parents expect us to somehow have a job while we’re in school??? That’s 105 hours minimum, assuming you can put that i to your schedule. Assuming you dont miss a train or get stuck in traffic, that means you have 63 hours to live the rest of your life, including eating, peeing, grocery shopping, cleaning, laundry etc etc etc. Let’s say you devote 21 hrs a week to that (3 a day, which is very conservative). That would mean you’d only have time for means you’re only 6 hours of sleep every day. Which for all teens and most people 20-25, is simply not enough.

And as a final point. The 80’s were pretty great. It was the end of the visible Cold War, the planet hadn’t been nuked, and the music was okay. Nowadays we have Homeland Security, SWAT teams, police, rioters, LITERAL NAZIS, and a plethora of other bad people in our society that they didnt have back then that we all have to worry about. We as a generation have never known a time of peace. The oldest of us, born in '95 and '96, are included in that too. Because while most people dont realize, weve been at war with muslim extremists since Sadaam Husein’s group sent THE US GOVERNMENT an OFFICIAL DECLARATION OF WAR. AND THEY IGNORED IT! AND THAT WAS 1994. We also have Russia and China to fear, because of Russia’s antics and fear over declaring war on North Korea, which by the way have NUKES, and have been chucking said nukes in OUR DIRECTION, because that would put U.S. troops directly on the Chinese border. Oh, and global warming and climate change. The West coast is on fire, we had 4 hurricanes in 2 weeks, and something is going on in Mexico. Europe is having issues too, and India is literally drowning on Monsoon.

So yes parents, you definitely had it harder than us Dependents do.

I’m not gonna lie. I had a lot of fuckin fun for my sisters wedding. I did not expect that tbh. I had probably one of the best times of my life. I think I had almost as much fun as my sister loool. Not as much fun as my new brother though. That man was living loool. But I’m a fan of this new life change and of him. My sis moving out. Me getting my parents and house to myself! Having a new brother to talk to and a change in my sister probs. And having a pad closer to the city to crash @ . Like my sister and I go through life changes together lol. When she graduated our private school, I left it. Then we went to same high school. Then she graduated and I left high school and went to community and worked and she went to a university. Then she graduated uni and I transferred. Then when I actually left for school she got a job. I’m rambling but basically Noor got married. And I just got a cool new job that I’m hyped for. So like my sis went through a life change and mine is happening along side hers. Idk im just typing and thinking. sitting in the sun. MashAllah Alhamdullilah

Brave on like the stars

Summary: How cruelly beautiful is the universe. Through childhood, two children, into the adulthood, a single man with a torn heart.

TRIGGER WARNING: Major character death. 

Word count: 3.6k

Read it on ao3!

A/N: THIS IS UNEDITED WORK. Mostly because I actually cried while writing this and I couldn’t bear going back to edit it. I’m sorry, maybe I will edit someday.I have no excuse for writing this.

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Why I will never give up

I have wanted to be a visual development artist since I was 4 years old.

When it was time to choose my high school, I went for the Institute of Art, which had several hours a week dedicated to drawing and painting. My teachers advised me against it, because they said that kind of school was for people who didn’t want to do anything with their life. The average high school here has about 30 hours of classes every week. We had 42.
I graduated with their highest scholarship and the highest score ever.

After highschool I enrolled at the university for foreign languages because my parents wanted me to have a plan B in case I wouldn’t succeed at animation. But at the same time I enrolled into an animation school because like hell I would drop that dream.
I left university after a month to focus on animation. Again, my teachers told me I was making a big mistake, wasting my potential.

After 3 years of animation school, I wasn’t nowhere near the skill level I was expecting from myself, so I started looking for any online school I could find. I attended several online classes, workshops and masterclass. I’m still doing it, and it’s been three years.

In the meantime, I’m still living at home with my parents and they have no idea of what I’m doing. They don’t even know what a visual development artists does. They probably still think that my job is to draw a bunch of characters each day while watching animated movies.
They keep joking about the fact that I spend the whole day sleeping at home, and when I dare to mention how tired I am, they ask why, since I’ve done nothing all day.

I actually wake up at 7 each day, weekends included, and I start my day, studying, working on commissions, working on my portfolio (which I update basically every month), working as background artist for an amazing 2D animated movie with a terrific team of people from all over the world, and constantly exercising to improve. Usually I go to bed at 2.

My parents support me, for real, but they just have no idea. I have the constant fear that I’m not good enough. That I’m just wasting my time. They keep telling me to get a “real job” and focusing on more realistic goals, and then “maybe, something will happen who knows?”

They don’t know I have to be constantly involved in what I’m doing, that you have to be in the right place at the right time, that you can’t just “hope” to get there.

They also don’t know of all the applications I sent that got a no for an answer, or about all the projects I’ve worked on since I graduated.

I have a friend of mine that knows me since I was little. He knows about my ambition, and every time we see each other he would ask me if “I’m already working for Disney” with a smug smile on his face, already knowing the answer.

I know that this might not work. I’m okay with doing any job I get while I try to get there.
But I will. I will because I know this is what I’m supposed to do. I’ve known it since I was a kid. I know because each time I watch my favorite animated movie, my favorite animated series, I get that wave of passion and energy that makes me get right back to work.
I can’t imagine my life goal to be anything else, and I’m going to prove anyone who just politely smiles, with compassion in their eyes, every time I mention what I do that they are wrong. I’m going to clear that smug smile off my friend’s face, and to make my parents proud showing them that I know what I’m doing.

I wrote this crazily long post because I need to remind me this every once in a while, and maybe there is someone else out there who needs to read this too.

Pen Pal

content: Dean is twelve years old when he asks Castiel to be his pen pal, not knowing that it will change his life completely. (x)

word count: 5377

[AO3]


1991:

“Hey, Cas, you wanna be my pen pal?”

Dean grins brightly at the slightly older boy in front of him who hid himself in a quiet corner of the Winchesters’ garden with a heavy book and ignored the grown-ups enjoying their barbecue party since the moment he arrived with his parents about an hour ago.

“What?” Castiel asks confused, apparently contemplating if he misheard Dean.

“Pen pal,” Dean repeats, dropping onto the ground right next to the other boy. “You know, exchanging letters and that stuff.”

“I know what it means,” Castiel counters. “But … why?”

Dean shrugs and starts to pluck some blades of grass. “It’s just … a stupid school project,” he explains. “Our teacher thinks it’d be good for us or whatever. She wants us to talk to kids from different countries.”

Castiel blinks. “I’m sitting right beside you,” he reminds Dean as if he seriously believes the other may have not noticed that. “And I was born here. I grew up here.”

“I know,” Dean rolls his eyes. “But you’re moving. I mean that what this party is all about, right?”

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we’ve set a date.

a date to say goodbye to my big red baby.

probably next Tuesday the 12th.

which is also my cousin’s 37th birthday. idk why that matters but i’m going to have to associate the two meanings from now on if we go that day.

it’s so hard but i know it’s the right thing to do.

i can tell he is suffering.  though he is very alert and wants to be included in everything. it doesnt seem like he is in constant pain or anything but you never really know.

 he still wants to bark at passers-by of the yard. he gets jealous Dad takes the other dog on a walk but not him. he whines while Dad is outside mowing and talking to neighbors with out him. he is still VERY motivated by food and treats.

but he’s dragging himself along by his front legs. his back paws are raw and bloody from trying to get his footing under himself. my Dad has to bandage and tape them up every day and clean the wounds. 

he’ll seem stronger in the mornings. it’s deceiving. by the end of the day he can’t even go to the bathroom (poop OR pee) without falling over and messing himself.

he’s had a few accidents in the house. and this is a dog who ALWAYS knows to come tell you he has to go outside. even at 3am. he will gently wake you. but a couple times my parents have awoken to smears of poo on the kitchen tile, as if he had a wet fart and couldnt tell he had to go.

we gave him a sponge bath on the deck yesterday. and then i sat with him for a good 30 min, just brushing him.  and he let me. and he didnt fight me at all.

here’s the thing. he HATES being brushed. he used to tolerate it for about 5 min at a time then get really mad, making his goofy chewbacca like noises til i stopped. never snapped at me or anything, but just his way of saying “maaaaa. stopppppp it.”

THAT’S how i know he’s not himself. he let me brush him for such a long time and no chewy noises were made. no trying to pull away. even if i hit a tangle.

i couldn’t even brush a lot of him because of all the matting that has happened the past few months.   every time i visit home i would snip off a dreadlock here and there. try to make him more comfortable.  my parents havent been getting him groomed because he just cannot stand very long, at least not long enough for a groomer’s place to want to deal with the weakness.

i’m not ready to say goodbye, but in a sense since he has lived with my folks for almost two years now, it’s almost like every time i leave from a visit i feel i’m saying goodbye for the last time.

i don’t want him to suffer anymore, i dont want to be selfish about this.  i know if i were the primary caretaker that i would go to more extreme lengths to keep him around and functioning, but it’s not fair to my Dad to expect the same, what with caring for my mother too, and he’s 66 himself. hard to lift a 100lb dog when your 66 y/o back can’t handle day in/day out.  there’s no way i can bring him to my 2nd fl apartment… he can’t even do the 3 steps at my parents house anymore.

i’ve been through so much with this dog. he was my first dog as an adult. i got him right after i graduated from college. he’s been through 5 or 6 apartment moves with me and adjusted fine each time. he’s lived with countless roommates and other pets and adapted and loved them all.  when i got jumped living in a shady area in 2009, he was with me (he didnt react the way i hoped but he was by my side).   he danced with me at my wedding reception. 

he’s the calmest, most sincere being i’ve ever encountered. the only time he would lose his shit is around motorcycles, or when i would leave for work.

i became who i am today with this constant companion and soon he will cease to exist.

i feel so bad i won’t get to spend time with him over the next week, but i’m so grateful i got to see him this weekend even though i worked through most of it. i just kept telling him how much i love him and what a good boy he always has been.

this is my heart dog. i honestly feel i won’t have as close a bond with any other animal as i have with Rudy.

the closer i get to next Tuesday, the more tears will flow. 

please excuse my mood for awhile. i will be feeling very low for an undetermined amount of time.

I graduated from college a few months ago, with a double major of English and Communications and a concentration in creative writing. That was about as far I could have expected to be from where I was when diagnosed with ADD in the second grade. I could barely fill out a worksheet or write a paragraph without someone helping me along. I was incredibly blessed to have parents and teachers who helped me when I needed it, and gave me the space to be independent when I became more confident in myself. I wrote on my graduation cap a line from “Wrote My Way Out” from Lin-Manuel Miranda's Hamilton Mixtape: “This hurricane in my brain is the burden I bear.” That seemed like an accurate description of the chaos of my mind and how it feels like a burden at times. But I left out the next line, “I can do without,” because ADD is so intertwined in my personality and writing style that I don’t know what I or my work would be like without it.

last couple of days have been shit but nothing can take away the joy and pride I feel as the seeds I’ve planted these last couple of years have come to fruit. I graduated from one of the best universities in the country and the world, and now have the privilege and honor to attend graduate studies at one of the best universities for my field. I’ve officially moved out of my parents’ house, i’m moving to an entirely new place for third time in my life, and I start a new academic journey next week- which because of my hard work, effort, and involvement in my discipline has granted me comfort I didn’t expect to have in this tumulus transition.

here’s to hard work and keeping your eyes on the prize no matter how bad things get. Count your blessings!

What I Never Knew I Always Wanted

Originally posted by ablankkk

Never was the kind to think about dressing in white

Wasn’t waiting on a prince to come riding into my life

Thought I was happy on my own

Till you came and proved me wrong

“Can you turn a little to the right Miss? The light enhances the lace on your dress better.” The photographer politely motioned for me to move, a smile on her face as she gleamed at the new angle. “Brilliant. Now Mr. Groom, just look down at that pretty lady who’s officially yours!”

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Five Things I Learnt Being An Only Child

Five Things that I Learnt Growing up as an Only Child

Growing up as a single child was an ambivalent experience. The contradictory emotions were almost simultaneous. While one minute I would brood the absence of a sibling, a partner-in-crime, the next instance I would be delighted with all the attention I got from my parents. My parents had grown up with siblings, and a tiny part of me can’t help but blame them for denying me a relationship that I see them cherish greatly. When my parents pass away, I won’t have a shoulder to lean on. Sure, there will be people who will sympathize with me, maybe even empathize, every one of them who has lost a parent. But even then no one will understand my loss because my parents were not their parents. They didn’t know what our family dinner was like, what the holiday ritual was, what our typical Sunday routine was.  I will be left alone, trying to grapple with the memories of my past, all by myself.

I was neither subjected to any special treatment nor any discrimination because of my status of being an only child. But growing up made me comprehend certain facts about my position as a single child, some good, while others not so much.

Single kids are not spoilt rotten

There is a stereotypical notion that all single kids are spoilt rotten by their parents. I happen to disagree. In fact I was brought up on a very strict routine. I absolutely had to do my bed, dishes, pack my bags for trips, something that some of my friends have confided in me that their mothers still do for them, even though they are well in their 20’s. If I forgot to pack something, my mother would just shrug her shoulders and let me know that my punishment for being careless was to go without that particular item. As a kid I was a fussy eater, but my father soon found a way to cure me of that. If I cried over my broccoli, he made sure that I was given broccoli the next one week. So, no, single kids are not spoilt rotten!

Self - Reliance

I grew up believing that I could do it all by myself. I had to stand up for myself to the school bullies, unlike some of my friends, whose older siblings stood up for them. There was no ‘co’ anyone in my life in regard to my relationship with my parents. If I got into trouble for getting home late from a party, I bore the brunt of the situation all by myself. When it was my parents’ anniversary, it was just me in the kitchen, making them a special breakfast. The independence that I experienced as a single child made it difficult for me to ask for help. While initially this did not start out as a pride thing when I was growing up, but it absolutely is a pride thing now. I ask for help only when I have exhausted myself with the dubious task. So yes, the good, the bad and the ugly, I navigated everything by myself.

Failures are not accepted

Being the center of attention comes at a cost. As an only child all the hopes and desires were pinned only on me; I knew that there was no back up. I could not fail, I could not disappoint.  I was expected to do it all - be the valedictorian, be the best debater, pick a sport and be the best in it, go to an Ivy League college, graduate at the top of my class, get a high paying job, bring home the best guy, be the best wife, be the best mother… just be the best daughter in the world! Failures were not expected and anything less than the best was just not acceptable.

Home-Alone

Growing up as the only kid in the house taught me how to appreciate and value my alone time. My parents were busy people, so I grew up surrounded by books, notebooks, crayons, pencils, my imaginary friends whom I created painstakingly with my lively imagination and kept myself actively occupied. I confess all these have made me a little detached from the ‘real’ world and I am somewhat of a head-in-the-clouds type of a person. I have overheard adults whispering furiously to each other, trying not to be overheard by me, “Poor child! The amount of time she spends alone at home is not healthy at all.” All the alone time I had spent growing up, made me a mature person; it allowed time for reflection. I could gauge the perspective of the other person in a conversation, in an argument. I wonder who the poorer person is! But it did come at a price, I also overthink things, even simple and minor things and end up complicating them. That is the downside of having too much alone time.

A Listener

I grew up mostly among adults. One thing that I learnt early on was that I was not allowed to speak when adults were talking. They loved to hear themselves talk; they obliged their opinions on me as their lawful duty. I grew up to be the introvert Virgo; I am the patient listener, the observer. I don’t complain, I like taking in everything that goes on around me – be it on a bus, at a restaurant, at a party hosted by an acquaintance. One could easily make me out because I would be the one at the corner, sipping my drink slowly and listening intently to a conversation while speaking the least.

I was exposed to both the perks and the drawbacks of being an only child, and I am grateful for it. Whatever my faults and abilities are, I now cheerfully surmise to the world – It is because I am an only child. I am who I am today, because of it and in spite of it.

Today in short:

Graduated. Cried. Can’t believe life is moving so fast.

Found out legit two people who have been flirting with me for years have been in mono relationships the entire time. The fuck?

Broke a mirror.

Said goodbye to all my fav professors and everyone of them told me they’re expecting great things as if they’re my parents, and I didn’t mind at all because I love them.

Realized that people I’ve spent nearly every day of the last two years with are people I’ll probably never see or talk to again. It’s so surreal to see someone for the last time. Like, you just say, “Good luck.” Lol. Crazy.

Felt happy, genuinely happy for the first time in a long time. I’m happy to exist.