Mom's punishment

My mother, just like most Vietnamese mothers, punished her children with spanking. She "ordered" my dad, who was a carpenter, a nice wooden stick just for punishing us only. That "sacred" stick had a nice and distinguish position in our living room and it was like a dead scary devil who kept staring at my sister and me whenever we were in trouble. My dad, even though he was the one who made the stick, never used it. He was actually the guardian who we ran to when mom reached for the stick because he would stop her. The stick was used regularly when I was in elementary school. I grew taller than mom during my middle school years and I was thrilled with that "advantage" because I could easily take the stick from her and run away, just like a golden retriever grabbed the ball and never wanted to give the ball back. And that was how I got away with punishment in middle school.

High school years came, and mom did not have to use the stick much. It was not because we behaved better. It was just we were smart enough not to let her know we screwed up. I was quite a troublemaker in high school, but I was so good at covering my bad doings at home (shh don't tell my mom). One day, mom found out about my habit of skipping classes. Oh. Gosh. She was devastated. She was a teacher and never could she allow a student skip her class; now her own precious daughter, who she thought to be a good student, dug school all the time. I came home that day thinking about all the excuses I could make to get away with this. How horrified I was when I saw mom standing at the door with the stick in her hand. Mom started walking toward me and I started running. I ran upstairs real fast to hide and I thought, at the moment, a ninja could not beat me in running. Mom did not say anything. I could not find anywhere to hide, so I turned around and got ready to take the stick away, just like what I had done in my middle school years. Her eyes were wet and red. She lifted her arm. I closed my eyes... "Whoosh" I heard the sound of the stick hitting on the skin surface, but it was not on me. It was mom hitting herself. Mom cried, "I am..a... bad mom... I don't..hic... know how...to raise...my own...child..." Nothing. Nothing. Nothing could ever describe how shocked and scared I was. I burst into tears. I cried out loud and ran to hold her. My mom was so small; I held her tight in my arms. "Ma, I'm sorry, ma...I'm sorry, ma..."

It was effective. I did not get in trouble any more after that incident... It has been three years since I left home. No one could ever spank me with a stick. I am on my own and I am responsible for myself. Oh, I want to call mom and cry like a baby, but that would freak her out. Yeah, all moms are the same, always worry...I guess this is why I keep a digital journal to myself haha. 

Nostalgia of dad

Dad used to be my hero. He used to be the one who I looked for comfort and protection. Things happened. People changed. The way I looked at him changed, but from deep down the bottom of my heart, I love him a lot.

My dad was a carpenter. He blew souls into ugly pieces of wood. He made our furniture. I still remember how spoiled I was when I asked for a customized bookshelf where I could make a fort underneath. To me, he was a magician. I spent my childhood with him because mom was busy working all day. His wood scrapes were my Lego. I built cities. I built villages. I built my dreams... "Daddy, when I grow up, I want to be a carpenter like you! So I can help you with work!" said little me. Dad smiled at me, "no, you're a girl. I don't want you to do hard work."  To me, dad was a superhero. He could lift me up and spin me around. "Daddy, I can fly! I'll be a superman when I grow up! So I can save the world!" I excitedly yelled while making flying gestures. He smiled and said, "no, you're a girl. I don't want the whole world to be on your shoulders." I was too little to understand what he meant. To me, he was a guardian. He literally kicked butts of those neighbor kids who made me cry. "Daddy, I want to be a boy when I grow up. So no one can make me cry!" sobbing little me said. Dad ran his fingers through my hair and said, "no, you're a girl. It's okay to cry. And if someone makes you cry, I won't forgive those people." At that time, I knew I'd always be daddy's little girl.

Time flew by. I didn't talk to him as much any more. We exchanged some awkward conversations when I was in high school, and I guess it is normal to any teenagers who have to go through "growing up" crisis. I changed. He changed. Life changed. But there's one thing I know is that his love for me will never change. It has been almost three years since I left Vietnam. I don't know how I endure with this feeling of missing my loved ones for so long. Sometimes, I just want to give in everything and come home, where I can be a baby. Sometimes, the cruelness of life makes me cry, but dad is not here to "kick their butts" like he said...

Perhaps, this makes me stronger. Perhaps, this makes me appreciate more what I am having. Perhaps, this makes me love my family more. And for sure, family is the greatest treasure that I have with me in this adventure of life. "We are sorry that we couldn't afford a birthday cake for you, but here is the glass of juice. We wish the best for you and we want to let you know that we love you very much, our princess." That's what dad said in my earliest memory of a birthday . Since then I know I am the luckiest princess in the world. Dad, I miss and love you a lot. And it's hurt...

Things that make me smile

Life has been a bit crazy for me. Days go by so fast that I barely remember what the last meaningful thing I did. It kind of saddens me because I thought I would never change no matter how busy life was. Even though people keep telling me that changing is inevitable for growing up, but constantly preoccupied with everything is not the change I want. Anyways, I just want to jot down some small things I have encountered that remind me how lucky I am to be in this beautiful world (sorry for my cheesiness and thanks for bearing with it haha).

- Sunlight hits my eyes when I wake up. I recently moved my bed closer to the window and let the blinds open, so I can be welcomed by the first sunlight :) I also changed my alarm to my favorite song. It is a happy way to start a day haha.

- A little girl yelled "You're so pretty, bicycle girl!" to me. I don't feel comfortable riding my bike around since people, especially girls, don't do that in Dallas (I didn't have my car for four months). That little girl just made my day ♥

- I have been coming to McDonald on every Tuesday to study (Don't ask me why haha). One day, this elderly couple came to me and said "We've been watching you study the whole time. You're very hard-working and we wish you the best." It just melted my heart and made me smile. Now, whenever I come, they give me hugs :) Thanks Mrs. Evelyn and Mr. Floyd for making my Tuesday brighter.

- My sister randomly texts me "I love you, cranky sister." I am still surprised because we barely verbally express our feelings (We grew up that way because our parents believed "actions were stronger than words" haha). I think it is just very sweet to be reminded that I am loved (awkward wording alert!).

- I get to talk to my parents every Saturday. Before, due to some circumstances, I didn't get to talk to them often (It's been almost three years since I last saw them :C ). Now that my dad just installed Skype and bought a webcam, I can actually see them. Sigh. Sometimes I just want to give in everything and go home.

- While writing this post, I got a text from my uncle asking if everything was okay and let him know I needed anything (aww). I went "awww" because he is the strictest uncle, and it is just sweet. Just. Very. Sweet. I'll go home this weekend to visit my aunts and uncles!

Okay, I have to go back to study. Sleep is overrated!

Random

It's been some days since my last post. Hmm I have been slacking from my plan which is to write more haha (Blame on school and work!). Ugh it's only the second week of school, and things start getting chaotic already (sigh). I don't even know how I can balance between taking seven classes and working.

People say I am lucky. Well, I am at a point where I feel super lucky to have supportive parents and great friends, but luck is not the only factor contributing to what I am having today. I do work hard. Like a motherf*cking dog (Sorry about my foul language, but it is getting on my nerves when people assume that I am having a princess life). Sometimes, I get jealous of those spoiled kids who have their parents with them. I am only twenty (I left home when I was seventeen) and I want to be a baby too. I get tired of being a tough one. I can't show my worries and fears because I don't want to affect my little sister or people around me. It is just hard being on my own without my parents here. But I guess everything has its own prices and rewards. And yes, I do believe in karma. Work hard today, play harder later. What matters is I am happy and I am working hard toward my goals which are in my sight right now.