when the words fall away

I hate everything I write; I especially hate it after reading a particularly good fic or piece of fiction. Nothing I write has a point. There should be themes, interpretation, parallels--something. Something beyond a random slice-of-life; if the slice-of-life is demonstrating a particular sentiment or illustrating a certain point, that's different. But I hate everything I write because nothing I write has a point. I can never find the write words to express the things I'd like to express, or I use pretty language in the shallowest of ways to describe things in a vaguely literary manner--except still without a point. I have too many loose ends and irrelevant details, emotions that escape at the edges and aren't properly directed or reshaped by the end of the story. My humor is contrived and not that funny.

I can't write length and I can't write plot.

What kind of writer am I?

我需要的人

I play mom and older sister and sempai to a whole host of people in real life and in fandom. I like it. I love these people and I love helping them and supporting them and giving (hopefully good) advice in any way I can--but sometimes I wish I had a 姐姐 or a 哥哥 to lean on. I suppose I know a fair number of people older than me through fandom, but we aren't close enough for me to rely on them. And, in real life, I don't have many people/friends who are older than me. Maybe it's my faulty psyche--I want to lean on someone and for them to give me advice, but I'm not capable of being that kind of dependent person. I have enough trouble telling people when I'm seriously upset... It's a paradox: I want to have someone to support and guide me, and yet I feel incapable of burdening people with my woes and seeking advice.

I know I'm strong. I strive to be. But sometimes all I want to cry and lean on someone else. I just don't know if I'm capable of taking your hand if you offer it.

two sides of the sun

In class today, my English professor eloquently described our campus as having "lawns that have sprouted people". With the nice weather, people have emerged out of nowhere onto our quad, sometimes alone, sometimes in groups of two or five. They lie out under the sun, baring arms and legs (and sometimes backs) to the warm golden rays, diverting themselves with laughter and talk. I walk past them, those bright spots of color--red, blue, yellow, white--against the green grass, and I think how different are my cultures. (Then I take a moment to dwell on what I call "mine", but I think I can justify this to myself, or save it for another time.)

What do I mean?

I walk through the quad, weaving past people in t-shirts and shorts, and think about how different this scene would be China. Putting aside the fact that there are few areas of unspoiled lawn (even in parks), the people in China are not nearly so welcoming of the sun. Women and men alike don hats and hold intricately designed umbrellas (parasols?) to ward off the heavy, cancerous rays. They shy away from the light and the suffocating heat, exactly opposite of the people strewn across my campus, who turn their faces up in welcome to the sky.

Girls in China* are always dressed with effort: every eye not their own is part of the audience they display their style to, on the streets and in the malls and throughout the city. Even their casual clothes involve intricte outfits and designs on their shirts and on their jeans. The sneakers are also trendy, and those are only worn when they're not tripping through crowds in platform sandals or strappy heels. Over their heads, these girls wave pretty umbrellas (that sport flowers or lace or both) that match their outfits, shading them from the sun as they walk down the street.

(Wearing my solid-colored top and simple, undecorated jeans--so everyday and basic in the States--made me self-conscious in China, because I felt so very plain. And my borrowed lavendar-tinted umbrella unfortunately clashed with my green-and-blue clothes. I felt un-Asian, a failure in my own culture.)

So different are these cultures, I think as I walk across my campus. (Are they both mine?) Which do I prefer?



*disclaimer: in urban China, not rural; in comparisons that can be drawn to CH or universities in general