While I was cleaning up my room, I found a journal from 7th grade. I cannot believe I wrote this back then. Around 7 years ago...
September 11, 2002
"I feel sorry for hte people on the plane and the two towers. Innocent people killed over religion. It's just not right. When I saw the building collapsed on the news the first time, I felt like I was in a movie, not real. I have never seen a plane hit into a building then collapsing before, and people jumping out of the window, falling to their end. Never in my life have I saw that kind of image, only in the movies.
Before all this happened back when I was 10, I felt I lived in a good place, where no one would get hurt. But I learned that the world not all happy."
October 11, 2002
"I hate it when people hate on each other. People are not supposed to hate people. About the 9/11 thing, other people were prejudice against the hijackers' nationality, which was Muslim. Americans thought that 'Islam' was a very evil religion. They were all wrong. It looks like they did not study that religion. They just hated it because it was clearly 'Muslim.' Hate is a very powerful word. It defines anger and dislike at the same time. Which can cause that person, or group of people to kill, or oblish that certain thing. An example is the KKK, which is a group of people who hate black people. If one of the members had a chance to kill a black man, he would."
October 23, 2002
"The thing I value most are my family and friends. They are more important in my life than all the riches in the world. Nothing can surpass love or friendship. Without friends or family I would not be me today. Or a part of me. Only a part of me would be here. Without people around people, people would not be people."
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memories. Show all posts
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Down Varsity Lane
I drove down varsity lane at Willow Glen today with Phi and Michelle. It was more like driving down memory lane. I spent 7 years of my life at Willow Glen from middle school to high school. It's hard to believe so much has happened, how much things have changed at Willow Glen. New buildings, new signs, different colors. At least as I was driving, the bumps on the road felt the same. The bumps of my past.
I saw the basketball courts where I spent most of my time in 6th and 7th grade. I developed a move called "monkey style" that was a lay-up with a pass behind my back before shooting it into the basketball. A few friends of my friends who played with me should remember this. Good times.
I saw the spit pit near the basketball courts on the middle school side. The "spit pit" that was a stairway leading down to a room in the gym. No one should ever walk down there or else you'll get spat on.
I saw the shared running track. Dusty like how I remembered it. That was where I knew I had to change my weight and my look. I sprinted well, but my endurance was lacking. I was a pretty chubby kid. That summer before my Freshman year, I jogged literally everyday to improve myself. I lost 30 pounds. During my first year, I finished the mile under 10 min. PE was huge for me back then because throughout middle school I felt so insufficient. I had 15 min mile times. I wanted to change it all: my look, my athleticism, myself. And, I did.
I saw the field of tanbark which was the "new quad area" during the time. That table under the tree right dab in the center of the quad. I could still visualize my friends playing 13 on the tables. Along their side, I would watch, my hands in my uniformed khaki pant pockets, black sleeves of the same pull-over hoodie I would wear everyday. I could taste the chimichangas, the pink lemonade, the hot cheetos, the dominos pizza and breadsticks. Our little niche.
I wonder what I would do without all these spaces I had and experienced. What if I was not here, but there? What if I was born a few days earlier, I would be up a grade. What if I had stayed in East Side San Jose, and not moved to the outskirts of Willow Glen? Sometimes I see my life in a linear fashion. Upon analzying it, I see how each of the things that happen in my life fall into place almost so perfectly to form the person I am today. However, I know I don't have to look it that way all the time because I always have these questions of "what if"? What if I did not exist here, but I existed there?
The more I accept my home, the more my home will accept me. No more questions about where I belong when I know I belong here already. I am ready to enter through this door to stay here for awhile longer. That's only if it'll take me. It's all up to me whether or not I want to. And, I do.
I saw the basketball courts where I spent most of my time in 6th and 7th grade. I developed a move called "monkey style" that was a lay-up with a pass behind my back before shooting it into the basketball. A few friends of my friends who played with me should remember this. Good times.
I saw the spit pit near the basketball courts on the middle school side. The "spit pit" that was a stairway leading down to a room in the gym. No one should ever walk down there or else you'll get spat on.
I saw the shared running track. Dusty like how I remembered it. That was where I knew I had to change my weight and my look. I sprinted well, but my endurance was lacking. I was a pretty chubby kid. That summer before my Freshman year, I jogged literally everyday to improve myself. I lost 30 pounds. During my first year, I finished the mile under 10 min. PE was huge for me back then because throughout middle school I felt so insufficient. I had 15 min mile times. I wanted to change it all: my look, my athleticism, myself. And, I did.
I saw the field of tanbark which was the "new quad area" during the time. That table under the tree right dab in the center of the quad. I could still visualize my friends playing 13 on the tables. Along their side, I would watch, my hands in my uniformed khaki pant pockets, black sleeves of the same pull-over hoodie I would wear everyday. I could taste the chimichangas, the pink lemonade, the hot cheetos, the dominos pizza and breadsticks. Our little niche.
I wonder what I would do without all these spaces I had and experienced. What if I was not here, but there? What if I was born a few days earlier, I would be up a grade. What if I had stayed in East Side San Jose, and not moved to the outskirts of Willow Glen? Sometimes I see my life in a linear fashion. Upon analzying it, I see how each of the things that happen in my life fall into place almost so perfectly to form the person I am today. However, I know I don't have to look it that way all the time because I always have these questions of "what if"? What if I did not exist here, but I existed there?
The more I accept my home, the more my home will accept me. No more questions about where I belong when I know I belong here already. I am ready to enter through this door to stay here for awhile longer. That's only if it'll take me. It's all up to me whether or not I want to. And, I do.
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