The Birth of a Mug

I picked up the large and awkward 25-pound bag of Laguna Specked Buff clay and set it on the canvas table with a thud. Getting my wire, I slice a piece of clay that measures out to be exactly 1.5 lbs. The thin silver wire attached to green handles slides and slices the clay so beautifully. The clay, not wanting to be sliced, holds some resistance which makes the process all the more satisfying. Once set up, I wedge the clay using my leverage along with the firm table top to push and elevate any air bubbles out of my freshly cut piece of clay. Once done, I take to the wheel. The centering is first, the specked buff clay, rough and sprinkled with sand turns round and round the wheel. The sandy texture rubs and grinds the blade of my hand, but at the same time moves and bends at my will. Finding the middle of the clay, I press my finger in with a strong and precise motion, bowing out slightly. The clay spins quickly but stays perfectly in the center, completely content on the wheel. Taking my fingers, I press into the right wall of the clay and start to form my walls. Squeezing and holding the wet clay between my two pointer fingers, I begin to elongate my piece. The walls become delicate and thin. I grab the metal rib, flexible, I bend the awkward, thin, metal oval around the wall of the clay to smooth out and nicely finish the mug. After I trim the bottom and smooth out the lip with a rectangular piece of leather, I take it off the wheel and it begins its’ drying process.

Image found on Dallas Morning News

On a Mountain, Under a Tree, Above the Clouds

A wise man once said to me that your trauma is not something that can be resolved. A person must take what has happened to them and learn how to survive alongside the pain, and instead of it consuming you, it becomes apart of you.

A wise man once said to me that I was meant to be great. I am not destined to do one monumental thing, he said, I am destined to be monumental.

A wise man once said to me that life was a seed that everyone is encouraged to plant. Some will plant their seed with the best of soil and it will still fail to grow. Some will grow in the crevice of two boulders, striped of all nurtience, and explode into an extraordinary tree.

A wise man once said to me that reading stories about the crystal blue sea or the towering mountains that forever reached to the heavens was not enough. He said to me that I must dive deep into salty water, and let the cold chill take over my body. He told me that I must drown in experiences, and that I must lay above the clouds.

A wise man once told me that my life is a piece of nothing in the scheme of infinity, a single electron in the sun’s ever-burning fire. He told me that beyond my sunken world there was a blackness that stretched out so far that if I were to walk the path of infinity for my entire life, I would not reach the starting line.

A wise man stared at me as I stared at him. The fogged mirror didn’t affect how clearly I saw the man looking back at me. As he gripped my eyes he said, don’t waist Oxygen trying to survive, use what you are given and try and live.

Photo Credit:Reddit

random thoughts

I brought an end to my last relationship two months ago, and that was the turning point I guess. After that, my life went like a roller coaster, everything just went up and down like crazy.

At first, I suddenly have tons of free time, I had nothing to do except resting in my room.

Till the time when some weird rumors about me were flying all over the place, I even heard my name mentioned with some words like “flirty” “player” “bitchy”. I was confused, I was being judged based on something that ain’t true.

I tried to stop it at first, but I had no idea who started the gossips in the first place. Nothing worked out well, except I made myself extremely exhausted.

Kind of lost control of myself those days. I have faced plenty of “first time” things: I almost failed my unit exam, I received some laps and did laps labors, I got kicked out of the classroom, I signed a contract with school…

I tried to let it go and calmed myself down. I brought several books to read during spare time.

On the bright side, there were some good “first-time” things: I talked to some people I haven’t talked to in a while, I hung out with several new friends, I went to some new places I never been to in the town before, I ordered Trenta size drink at Starbucks, my article got published on local newspaper…

To be honest, I had a thought about escaping, a break from reality, but I never expected this happened.

Something really big happened, all my difficulties were literally nothing compared with it. Coronavirus outbreak in the state, my school got closed off, my SAT got canceled, my AP exams became online. I thought I suddenly had nothing to do again, but I was totally wrong.

I needed to make a decision as soon as possible: should I stay or go home? I chose to go home after I went through lots of mental struggles.

Due to the limited airlines, I had to take connection flights. Due to the virus spread prevention, I had to take 14 days long quarantine. Due to the location I am, I had to access my learning materials through VPN. Due to the time differences, I will take my AP exams online at 2 am in the morning.

There are lots of unsatisfactory things that I can do nothing to make it better except deal with it, this is what I learned from this experience.

Just some words about my random thoughts…

pc: bdstatic.com

Sinister

On a train away we sailed,

slowly but at the speed of light,

we jumped into the cage called freedom.

oblivious but fully aware,

we jumped off of the cliff

and landed in a field of feathers.

soft and warm were the feathers

that were plucked off of the once flying birds.

and then came a hand,

and a voice

“come with me to The Good Place,” it said

so we took its hand and followed through the land on fire.

demons greeted us with open arms,

and we drank a sweet, red liquid.

“This doesn’t look like Heaven,” we said

A man with red horns smiled and replied

“oh trust me child, this is heaven for people like us.”

kwanumzen.org

Scars

scars never go away.

no matter how many dollars you spend on Mederma.

they fade, but their reminiscence will always remain.

cuts, bruises, scratches, and blisters hurt

but cuts will heal. bruises and scratches will vanish. blisters and sores go away,

scar takes a different type of hurt. a different type of stab. a scar is a much deeper pain.

happiness, anger, regret, remorse, and fear burn.

but anger will simmer down, regret will turn into acceptance, remorse will turn into forgiveness, and fear will be overcome.

but love is a different type of burn.

love is a different type of hurt. a different type of happiness. a different type of pain.

just like a scar, love fades.

just like a scar, love will never go away.

just like a scar, love is a weakness that can be cut open at any time.

for better or for worse…

photo credit: Pinterest 

Objectified

ob·ject
noun
/ˈäbjekt/
1.
a material thing that can be seen and touched.

                                    …

Dear strong, capable, powerful, being,

you are not an object.

Nowadays, many people are objectified. Not just for sex, but for money, popularity, and much more.

Dear strong, capable, powerful, being,

your purpose is not just to fulfill the wants of others.

You are beautiful. You are intelligent. You are unique.

And you are here on this earth to do much more than to satisfy someone’s wants or desires and then to be put on the shelf until they want you again.

No person is single-use. No person is only good for one thing. No person is an object.

And no person deserves to be treated like one.

Photo credit: artsyrose.com

Indisposable Disposition

I try to stay cheery as much as I can. I avoid being serious as much as I can, and even when presented with attacks on my character I often try to disregard them or make jokes. This often has the unintentional effect of making me seem weak, oblivious, or daft, but I allow it and move on with my day. It’s not that I fear confrontation, that I can’t stand up for myself, but because I’ve found that by making this change, I’ve created a very friendly environment, at least in my own headspace.

I like acting unaware sometimes because it detaches me from the monotony of everyday life. During finals, college applications, or other stressful moments in my life, I find that I myself am never as stressed as my peers, often they go on about how late they stayed up studying and how stressed they are, and I’ll chime in occasionally, but all-in-all I don’t contribute much because it isn’t the case for me. I feel as though my seemingly carefree attitude has translated into the parts of my academic life that don’t affect my performance, thankfully.

But I stray from the main idea of my post – I don’t like to take myself too seriously. I like being able to laugh at things that some friends would otherwise correct me for, trying to change me for whatever reason. Because of those little things, the incoherent gibber-jabber I have with myself walking down the stairs from lunch, the little dance I do on the curb by the hill of the English classroom, all these things keep me sane during the most stressful time I have ever been through in my life.

This method always works perfectly well until it doesn’t. It could be a few simple things throughout the day. I get blamed for the failure of something that I did for a group, I get called out for something I have to defend myself for, something that forces me to drop my jokes and get angry, that’s when it all comes flooding in, the test scores, the admissions calls, the loaded commitments. It’s moments like these I have to pull over on the side of the mountain road leaving school, I have to roll my window down and watch the sunset as the lights turn on over Ojai Ave. as the road clogs with headlights of every vehicle in town, and call my parents. My parents taught me to live my life embracing the positives, they reflected this idea in their own lives, making jokes and keeping me calm throughout all the hardships that they encountered when I was a child. After a few minutes of this, I hang up the phone, roll up my window, turn my music back on, and I’m ready to keep on chugging along.

Wandering

Let me be your beacon,

let me be your guiding light.

I know you’re scared, tired, and broken,

but I’m here to hold you tight.

I know you hide your fears from me,

you get ashamed when you let them show,

but babe,

I’ve cried in your arms many times,

so please just let me know

what’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours,

your wicked, twisted, brain

filled with lies and awful times,

but babe let me be your change.

I just want to love you,

you’ve been through so god damn much,

your beautiful soul deserves the world you know,

I wish you thought the same.

I’m sorry for everyone who hurt you,

you’re scared to let me in because you fear I’ll do the same.

Everyone you’ve loved has done you wrong,

but darling I’m not the same.

So let me be your beacon,

let me be your guiding light.

I know you’re scared, tired, and broken,

but I’m here to hold you tight.

Photo via: searchengineland.com

I wouldn’t say it’s a poem, but I would say it’s for you.

So many things I’ve felt, so many things I’m feeling: like

the lips, the teeth, my hands that go numb from time to time;

unwelcome visitors crawling across my arm, still not wanting to disturb them;

hoping to be an anarchist someday – not in a way so extreme as starting a revolution or in a way so dull as loving someone your family doesn’t approve of, but in a way that falls somewhere in between;

watching the words pour out of your mouth, pour out of your mouth and drip down the sides – they drip down the sides and spill all over me.

And I suppose if I’m still in the business of missing things, there are a few things I could miss:

I could miss the blue days, the warm days, but I don’t. I could miss the excitement that came along with summer, the uncertainty, perhaps, but I don’t.

Instead I miss your words.

NationalGeographic.com

Youth

Back then, war was a card game, race issues were about who ran the fastest, and protection meant wearing knee pads,

and a timeout was the worst punishment we knew.

Back then, our parents were our heroes, the safest place was in mom’s arms, and the highest place on earth was dad’s shoulders.

Back then, we shared toys, not boys. Back then we said “thank you” more than “I’m sorry,” “yes” more than “no,” and “I love you” instead of “I hate you.”

Back then, guys played sports, not girls,

back then, we looked forward to every day instead of dreading it,

back then, we were scared of the dark, not the world,

and back then we couldn’t wait to grow up.

Photo Credit: Pinterest