Oh, the irony!
The one man who saw me from his dark blue Toyota gasped, "Oh my god! Are you alright, miss!?" I picked up my bike and handed him a thumbs up and a nod. He smiled, and I knew that he was trying desperately to stifle his laughter. After he drove off, I looked down at my scarred knees. They seared with pain and stung every pedal on the way home. Seems like I have underestimated the power of safety gear.
After I locked the back door behind me, I headed straight to the bathroom to wash up my injuries. Not only had my frail knees received cuts, but my left elbow had some also. I grimaced at the ugliness of my elbow, which already had a scar from the time I fell off a scooter when I was 8. A dirty rag used to clean the bathroom mirrors lay nearby, and I washed it to clean up the blood from my cuts.
The whole time, I could not stop laughing.
I had biked into a STOP SIGN.
And to think that nothing could "stop" me in my tracks.
18 September, 2011
Great Wall
Every tour that goes to China HAS to include the Great Wall. My family and I went on a tiring, yet fun, eight day tour in China, going to Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and other various small cities. The second day was the best day. My brother and I started to race up the slope leading to the first steps up the Wall. Our parents called out to us, "Don't waste your energy!!" but we didn't have a care in the world for that right now. We quickly sidestepped many various people on the way up. There was a diverse amount of people, not just Chinese. I beat my brother to the steps, and looked down.
"These steps are freakin' HUGE...!"
No wonder only soldiers of the past Chinese dynasties could ever traverse this wall. Every step of irregular, unpaved, and REALLY steep. I literally had to hop from one step to the next. After my parents had finally caught up with us, I took a deep breath, held the rails that were added to the Wall, and lifted my foot. I had taken my first step. (Now only hundreds more to go!)
Moving up was a slow process. So many people were at the Wall, I could guess that someone looking from above could see the endless masses of people. Many people had to take breaks midway, and sat right in the middle of the stairs so others could hang on to the side and continue up. I was terrified of letting go of the rails, because I may have fallen onto the person in front of or behind me. My dad assured me that I wasn't going to fall anywhere. I let go, but quickly grabbed on again.
We made it to the first tower. We had to stop and take a break, because my asthma was starting to kick in, but we continued moving as soon as possible, because the tour gave us only two hours to get as far as we possibly could. Mum made a goal to get to the second tower. I really wanted to go farther than that. I wanted to climb the whole way, but we just didn't have the time. We waited for my brother to get up, then continued to slowly go up the wall. Unluckily, we ended up behind an old woman who took about 10 seconds for every step. She was Chinese, so dad joked in English, "Why is she even here?" and hoped that she didn't understand us. Soon, we got annoyed at the speed we were moving at, so we carefully slipped in front of her and moved on.
It seemed like forever, but we made it. We reached our goal. I let out a sigh of relief and chugged a water bottle down. When I was done, dad tapped my shoulder and pointed his finger, and I looked at the direction he pointed me to. I saw such a beautiful sight that took my breath away from me.
The Wall was so high up, I could everything. The jungle of trees below, mountains and hillsides nearby. Even more people were trying to climb the Wall now, and I was glad we got here earlier. I grabbed my camera and started taking pictures of the landscape. It was the best thing I've ever seen.
Going down was even harder than going up. Constantly looking down and seeing the height we were at terrified me. I carefully moved from step to step as quick as I could. On the way back, we met the other people who were on the tour, who were still trying to get up. I felt proud because we were the first ones to reach the top.
"Hey Lily, let's race again!" my brother yelled when we reached the slope. We started dashing, even though we were breathing so hard we would've fallen anytime. Once we gained momentum, we couldn't stop. I even tried to, but I would've landed on my face if I did. At the bottom, I took a heavy breath and collapsed onto the ground. My brother barely followed behind me. Our parents walked behind us and smiled at our rare enthusiasm.
I took so many pictures on that trip, and I'll never forget the amazing sight and fun I had while I was there.
"These steps are freakin' HUGE...!"
No wonder only soldiers of the past Chinese dynasties could ever traverse this wall. Every step of irregular, unpaved, and REALLY steep. I literally had to hop from one step to the next. After my parents had finally caught up with us, I took a deep breath, held the rails that were added to the Wall, and lifted my foot. I had taken my first step. (Now only hundreds more to go!)
Moving up was a slow process. So many people were at the Wall, I could guess that someone looking from above could see the endless masses of people. Many people had to take breaks midway, and sat right in the middle of the stairs so others could hang on to the side and continue up. I was terrified of letting go of the rails, because I may have fallen onto the person in front of or behind me. My dad assured me that I wasn't going to fall anywhere. I let go, but quickly grabbed on again.
We made it to the first tower. We had to stop and take a break, because my asthma was starting to kick in, but we continued moving as soon as possible, because the tour gave us only two hours to get as far as we possibly could. Mum made a goal to get to the second tower. I really wanted to go farther than that. I wanted to climb the whole way, but we just didn't have the time. We waited for my brother to get up, then continued to slowly go up the wall. Unluckily, we ended up behind an old woman who took about 10 seconds for every step. She was Chinese, so dad joked in English, "Why is she even here?" and hoped that she didn't understand us. Soon, we got annoyed at the speed we were moving at, so we carefully slipped in front of her and moved on.
It seemed like forever, but we made it. We reached our goal. I let out a sigh of relief and chugged a water bottle down. When I was done, dad tapped my shoulder and pointed his finger, and I looked at the direction he pointed me to. I saw such a beautiful sight that took my breath away from me.
The Wall was so high up, I could everything. The jungle of trees below, mountains and hillsides nearby. Even more people were trying to climb the Wall now, and I was glad we got here earlier. I grabbed my camera and started taking pictures of the landscape. It was the best thing I've ever seen.
Going down was even harder than going up. Constantly looking down and seeing the height we were at terrified me. I carefully moved from step to step as quick as I could. On the way back, we met the other people who were on the tour, who were still trying to get up. I felt proud because we were the first ones to reach the top.
"Hey Lily, let's race again!" my brother yelled when we reached the slope. We started dashing, even though we were breathing so hard we would've fallen anytime. Once we gained momentum, we couldn't stop. I even tried to, but I would've landed on my face if I did. At the bottom, I took a heavy breath and collapsed onto the ground. My brother barely followed behind me. Our parents walked behind us and smiled at our rare enthusiasm.
I took so many pictures on that trip, and I'll never forget the amazing sight and fun I had while I was there.
14 September, 2011
...
"...What's wrong?" she asked after I told her I needed to talk. I sighed out loud and started typing furiously at my keyboard. I was full of angst, full of depression.
"All lies. They lie to you to make you feel better," I typed. Tears hit my hands and ran down, slipping through the gaps of the keys. "But you're going to have to face the cold hearted truth."
-
The first time I gripped a pencil on my own will felt weird. I've only ever used it to repeatdly write the English alphabet and do basic math problems, after all. I continued to turn around the pencil in my hand until I had a somewhat comfortable grip, then pressed on the paper in front of me and moved my hand shakily. It took me three minutes to draw my first stick figure. I was so proud of it, I wanted to draw more. My mum peered over my shoulder to see if I was writing my alphabet, and was shocked at what she saw. But, she said,
"It's beautiful."
The only reason I started to draw was because I had received inspiration from my favorite cousin. Her anime girls hung everywhere on the wall of her bedroom. Not just that, her parents' bedroom too. They were obviously proud. My mum would spend time looking at them, and praise my cousin for such amazing pictures. This was a huge thing to me. All I had ever received from her were slaps on the hand for writing my "e" backwards. I wanted my mum to be proud, happy. I wanted this praise, I didn't want to be forgotten.
I drew pictures for everyone. For mum, dad, baby brother. My uncles and aunts, cousins. The one I remember most was one I drew for my dad's friend, a picture of me and him fishing from under an umbrella. Last time I visited, it still hung on the wall of his workroom. Everyone praised me and ruffled my hair with their hand, leaving me with a wide smile.
Then years passed. My goal had changed. I realised it wasn't praise that I was after. I wanted the person to smile, I wanted to bring happiness to people. I improved so I could achieve my dream, starting to explore different formes of art, such as backgrounds, realism, anime. I even went past the border of pencil and paper and started writing, sewing, and making somewhat decent claymen. I had a lot of fun expanding my horizons and trying new things. It made me so happy, and I felt as if I could draw for the rest of my life.
But this time, when mum peered over my shoulders to see if I was doing my homework...
"Horrible."
The first time she made such a rude comment, I merely ignored her, and tried to forget about it. But then she started hammering me with insults again.
"Just stop drawing, you have better things to do."
"Another sketchbook? Waste of money."
"Nobody likes your work."
I dropped the pencil from my hand. It rolled off the desk and landed on the floor with an impact so hard, it snapped into two. The thirteen years I've been drawing... Just a waste? Her comments stung so much, I had quit picking up my pencil for a while.
-
My friend sighed, and felt truly bad for the situation I was in, for she was like me. We loved art, and we'd never give it up. One would try to comfort their friend when they're down, but...
"Are you f______ crazy?" was her first sentence. It kind of shocked me. Then she continued, "Don't listen to your mom, she doesn't know anything. You just need to practice, develop and release your full potential. She may not like your drawings, but I love them! Your friends love them just as much, it makes them happy!
"How are you going to make others happy if you can't make yourself happy!?"
There, I realised what a mistake I had made. I forgot about my main goal in life. A depressed person isn't going to lift the atmosphere... How could I have strayed so far away from my desired path?
I never replied to her. I closed the window to our chat box and reached for one of the many pencils in my pencil box, and gripped it in my hand. It felt comfortable again... Focusing hard, I pressed the lead on my blank sheet of paper and started to draw.
"All lies. They lie to you to make you feel better," I typed. Tears hit my hands and ran down, slipping through the gaps of the keys. "But you're going to have to face the cold hearted truth."
-
The first time I gripped a pencil on my own will felt weird. I've only ever used it to repeatdly write the English alphabet and do basic math problems, after all. I continued to turn around the pencil in my hand until I had a somewhat comfortable grip, then pressed on the paper in front of me and moved my hand shakily. It took me three minutes to draw my first stick figure. I was so proud of it, I wanted to draw more. My mum peered over my shoulder to see if I was writing my alphabet, and was shocked at what she saw. But, she said,
"It's beautiful."
The only reason I started to draw was because I had received inspiration from my favorite cousin. Her anime girls hung everywhere on the wall of her bedroom. Not just that, her parents' bedroom too. They were obviously proud. My mum would spend time looking at them, and praise my cousin for such amazing pictures. This was a huge thing to me. All I had ever received from her were slaps on the hand for writing my "e" backwards. I wanted my mum to be proud, happy. I wanted this praise, I didn't want to be forgotten.
I drew pictures for everyone. For mum, dad, baby brother. My uncles and aunts, cousins. The one I remember most was one I drew for my dad's friend, a picture of me and him fishing from under an umbrella. Last time I visited, it still hung on the wall of his workroom. Everyone praised me and ruffled my hair with their hand, leaving me with a wide smile.
Then years passed. My goal had changed. I realised it wasn't praise that I was after. I wanted the person to smile, I wanted to bring happiness to people. I improved so I could achieve my dream, starting to explore different formes of art, such as backgrounds, realism, anime. I even went past the border of pencil and paper and started writing, sewing, and making somewhat decent claymen. I had a lot of fun expanding my horizons and trying new things. It made me so happy, and I felt as if I could draw for the rest of my life.
But this time, when mum peered over my shoulders to see if I was doing my homework...
"Horrible."
The first time she made such a rude comment, I merely ignored her, and tried to forget about it. But then she started hammering me with insults again.
"Just stop drawing, you have better things to do."
"Another sketchbook? Waste of money."
"Nobody likes your work."
I dropped the pencil from my hand. It rolled off the desk and landed on the floor with an impact so hard, it snapped into two. The thirteen years I've been drawing... Just a waste? Her comments stung so much, I had quit picking up my pencil for a while.
-
My friend sighed, and felt truly bad for the situation I was in, for she was like me. We loved art, and we'd never give it up. One would try to comfort their friend when they're down, but...
"Are you f______ crazy?" was her first sentence. It kind of shocked me. Then she continued, "Don't listen to your mom, she doesn't know anything. You just need to practice, develop and release your full potential. She may not like your drawings, but I love them! Your friends love them just as much, it makes them happy!
"How are you going to make others happy if you can't make yourself happy!?"
There, I realised what a mistake I had made. I forgot about my main goal in life. A depressed person isn't going to lift the atmosphere... How could I have strayed so far away from my desired path?
I never replied to her. I closed the window to our chat box and reached for one of the many pencils in my pencil box, and gripped it in my hand. It felt comfortable again... Focusing hard, I pressed the lead on my blank sheet of paper and started to draw.
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