3. My baby, Tillandsia caput-medusae

I decided against studying for finals and instead watched old Molly Ringwald movies. They were quite underwhelming. But I did enjoy the Chinese man living with Samantha Baker in Sixteen Candles.
I almost want my parents to once forget my birthday, so I have something to hold over their heads. No car? But Dad... Monday April 22, 2013...
Parenting seems so difficult. Imagine actually forgetting your son's or daughter's birthday; I would have absolutely no idea how to make up for that. There's a blog I recently discovered called dearscarlet. It's a parent's documentation of her daughter's upbringing and it's so touching. There are a lot of things about children and parenting that I'm not excited about (mainly the giving birth part and the 7- to 14-year-old time period), but watching my child grow up will be so glorious and rewarding and ahhhhh!
This one's my favorite post. Oh, my goodness. Love came from her mother. DEAR LORD, I'M GOING TO TEACH MY CHILD TO LOVE.
What if my kid ended up being unsuccessful, though? I don't doubt that I would still love the child to death, but I'm so pathetic when it comes to comforting and inspiring. What if I can't guide my child in the right direction? oh no oh no oh no how is it done oh no
I just hope I'm approachable enough for my son or daughter to be comfortable with, so even if I can't offer any constructive advice, I can at least listen to my child's problems if I am given the chance to. If nothing else, I'd like to be some sort of diary for my kid. Feel free to recite terribly constructed love poems to me because I'll never respond or judge you (maybe).



By Scarlet on April 22, 2012


My mom went to Pike's Nursery yesterday and bought me a plant that doesn't need soil, direct sunlight, or daily watering.
(Also Daniel Yoon thought Pike's Nursery was a nursing home for the elderly.)
She obviously does not trust me with a normal plant, but at least she knows how much I can handle. What if she bought me a plant that costs more than just three dollars and required everything my plant doesn't require? What if the stress of keeping the plant alive crushed me? Oh, nooo. What if I trusted my daughter with a tiger as a pet and it kills her by accident. Oh, no.
Okay, this plant only needs to be watered twice a week, but I got a hippo watering can for my birthday and I really want to put it to use. I'm just going to drown this plant. I'm glad my mother is aware of the dearth of knowledge I have on growing plants, so she won't be too disappointed when my plant dies within a week.

2. Interrupted

A few days ago, a family of three arrived at my front door while just a short while before, I was in the midst of an impromptu nap, pantsless, and unaware of their impending three-day visit.
Imagine my surprise (or theirs, I suppose) when I opened the door in almost exactly that state (I made the stellar decision to put on pants) while the three balls of brown rolled through the threshold, too enthusiastic about seeing someone who barely recognized their faces and just less than a minute ago, was pantsless.
These past three days have been unbearable. Aside from an underwhelming birthday (a rant which I will save for another procrastinated blog post) and the less-than-absolutely-necessary hours I put into studying for a three-hour AP Biology practice exam, a family had invaded the privacy that is my life after school.
On a normal day, I come home from school, change immediately into a pair of XXL Eeyore fleece pants and the 2004 SBCE t-shirt, turn on the television to watch whatever show I had missed the night before, and scramble for a plate for the scarce amount of ready-made  food I have in my pantry before literally flopping down in front of the television until I fall asleep with an empty plate for a pillow.
Imagine a girl who has done this for all 16 17 years of her living and suddenly, with no warning, this life of luxury is snatched away from her and flattened under the unnecessarily large suitcases parked in the middle of her living room.
Like just now, I crawled out of my cave to get a cookie, but instead of it being a quick sprint up and down the stairs, I was forced to offer my quickly declining number of cookies to the couple canoodling on my couch (the couch I spent so many hours napping, enjoying cold pizza on) (my couch) (Also why are they canoodling? Stop this nonsense. You're both middle-aged Indians whose parents arranged this life together for you and I'm sure they wouldn't want you canoodling on a stranger's couch.) and I was pushed into ten minutes of awkward exchanges of words that I could have spent on this blog post. Don't get me wrong. You can canoodle on my couch with your significant other if you want to, but don't take my cookies and make me talk to you if you do because obviously that makes me angry in all the weirdest ways.
Also I can't sing too loudly in the shower. I have to whisper. (It's really not as effective.)
Also I have been stripped of the right I have to talk to my cat in the peace of my own room.
Also they bought me cake.
I don't thoroughly enjoy cake.
I had to eat it anyway and I only enjoyed it a little bit.

1. Happy

I dread growing older.

As a child, I was rather carefree (as a kid should be, I suppose, but I was even more carefree).
So many times I've heard, a child's dream job never actually changes. I had always wanted to be a teacher or a painter or a painting teacher when I was younger, and I feel that because I was never forced into adult situations, my dream remained unaltered to this day. I think my parents are not okay with this, but they know not to take a baby's toy away while she's enjoying playing with it.
I know I'm blessed, though, because an unlucky girl would have this unreasonable dream snatched away from her - especially one with parents from a country that houses only students aspiring to be engineers, doctors, any diploma that will have you pinned as a genius with the rewards of shelter, food, successful children. I know my dad is worried for my future after achieving my goal. A teacher's salary isn't a high one and artists rarely are successful in selling works (other than the pity-purchases from friends). How can I afford to pay rent, put healthy food inside me, possibly support a family, and be happy with myself and what I'm doing day after day? In all honesty, I don't think I need piles of hundred dollar bills to stay happy. I could spend hours picking out a wardrobe from a thrift store and be absolutely thrilled with my purchase (just two dollars! Thrift store prices deserve a two-syllable dayyyyyyum). I could eat $0.79 Cup Ramens for weeks without pause. Even now, I crave living in a small, cozy ranch home. I don't need money; I need happiness. I would be delighted with that life as long as I had seven hours a day dedicated to 20 obnoxious monsters, all of whom I would eventually grow to adore and care for. (And even if I didn't exactly fall in love with every single one of the twenty kids, who cares? I can use the big words I learned in AP Lang to insult the hooligans without them even understanding me.)
I think my parents are waiting for me to slowly grow bored with my toy and move on to a better one, but this toy isn't all that bad, I promise. I'll make it worth it.