An episode, re-written out of memory, out of love: Episode 33 re-write

The Junior Achievers BAFTX Scholarship was an incredible privilege, honor, and gift to my life. My heart holds so much gratitude and so much warmth when returning to all the memories, all that I’ve learned from England and from those with me on the trip—here is my beautiful summer story of 2018.

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"Dieungoc, would you accept a spot on our scholarship trip to England?" Ms. Kay asked over the phone. I remember incoherently screaming a "Yes!!"

A “yes!!” as I punched and jumped into the air on my front porch, the sky cloudy and grey but my heart felt like it was filled with daylight.

Then, I remember the take-off.

I remember the incredible amount of boiling excitement inside. How I couldn't wait to dorm with a roommate from another state. How I couldn't wait to feel small next to the Stonehenge, stare up at the arches of Westminster Abbey where the Unknown Warrior rested, walk along the beautiful art exhibits of the Tate Modern. And how far away from home I'd be, for the first time in forever.

Traveling on my own outside of the country was a luxurious dream somewhere in the back of mind, ready to be pulled out after I finished college, after I have a job, after I have my first stable career, after my parents are settled comfortably and I can afford them a nice place to live the rest of their days, after everything that should happen happens – would I dare to chase after that dream, yet there I was, on a no expenses, fully paid trip to visit the country of my dreams. My breath caught in my chest. The shock hadn’t truly hit me until I put my baggage in the overhead, sat myself next to my friendly comrades, and readied myself for the take-off across the Pacific Ocean.

Those first moments were the epitome of what it meant to be young and free and on a plane.
Once I arrived in England and realized people drove on the left side, that's when insecurity started bustling in.

I've always been a socially anxious person. Consider me an extroverted introvert. All I wanted was to find and create a family in the short two weeks that I was there.

So I began opening up to my roommate, who turns out to be Diana. My best buddy on the plane from Houston!

We shared late-night stories. We shared Korean dramas together. So many aspects of our lives were shared that I found myself opening up to Diana very quickly. She is honestly one of the kindest, warmest, and most thoughtful and intelligent individuals that I came to know on the trip. It would be later that I would discover what I saw in Diana in everyone else in the most memorable 2 weeks of my life.

So, the trip itself!

As I explored England and walked upon hundreds and thousands of years of history, I began to find bits and pieces of my adventurous spirit that I had suppressed for years.

I rediscovered the girl who still idealized history, truth, and justice as I traversed through the Holocaust exhibition in the Imperial War Museum (disbelief filling me as I passed each exhibit and catching my friends eyes in moments of shared shock and horror) and as I stared up at the intricate art along the walls of the Palace of Westminster, my breath stolen from me the moment I entered the House of Commons and House of Lords as I imagined the discourses that happened in those rooms.

I rediscovered the girl that stayed and stared at beautiful things for far too long. The paintings, sculptures, and media shows in the Tate Modern glow brightly in the back of my mind. I remember the looks of wonder on my friends faces as time slowed and we drank in each exhibit. The “staying and staring” never stopped. I remember the long wait to get onto the London Eye, a humongous Ferris wheel for the best possible 360’ view of London. 6 or 7 of my friends grouped together tightly under my one umbrella to escape the heat of the sun during the wait. Eventually, we got onto the London Eye and had the coldest air invite us in. We cooled off on the benches inside our little pod while quickly taking in the beautiful view as we ascended slowly. The wait was more than worth it. We saw the Thames up close, its little boats and ships, Big Ben under construction, Westminster Abbey, the Palace of Westminster, the London Bridge, beautiful buildings jutting as far as the edge of the horizon, and traffic as far as the eye can see. This view is imprinted in the back of my mind—beautiful and unforgettable.

I rediscovered the girl that loved live theatre. Watching Hamlet in the Globe Theatre and having one of the best seats in the house. I had studied Hamlet in high school only to see it in person, in England, in the Globe Theatre! To begin to describe it as purely “magical” doesn’t do it justice. The performance was brilliant: the director herself was also Hamlet, the dancing swords, the beautiful monologues. My group and I were captivated from beginning to end, riding the excitement all the way back on our walk to our buses in the cool, night air, and returning to our dorms like kids, speaking only of Hamlet.
I discovered the girl who talked about how fresh the breeze felt and how incredibly blue the ocean was as I sat down and devoured my first authentic plate of fish and chips in Brighton with my best friends, watching the puffy clouds drift by over Brighton's blue beach and skipping along the sidewalks and through traffic as if we had all the time in the world. The colors of Brighton and its busy touristy streets, coffee shops and quick eats up close to one another, stalls upon stalls of jewelry and sunglasses and airy clothes, a store dedicated entirely to the most beautiful pairs of heels I’ve ever seen – Brighton burst with the kind of energy that I can never forget. Its chilly deep blue waters inviting me in, just as my friends did when I was too scared to dip a toe in. I can hear them now, “Ngoc, it’s not too cold! Just jump in!” And I did. Only to find out too late that I had been fooled.

I rediscovered the girl who enjoyed the warm presence of meeting another quality human being as I sat down with my small group of friends, united by our love for slow tea-sipping and honest stories about everything we could ever talk about. I don’t think I’ve ever quite felt as alive as I did then, spending evenings with my friends on the swing sets across from the dorms, admiring each others’ strength in our stories and forgetting that one day, we’d have to separate. There were so many moments of vivid self-discovery, so much laughter, and so much warmth under the orange English evening sky, streaked in all of the love and possibility that we saw in each other and burned with the foreverness of our echoing laughs as if night would never come. It was truly as if I had already built another family away from home. Actually, not “truly if” if it was true.

I began to discover new facets within myself. I was far too surprised to admit it then, but England had helped shape me into a wiser, more open-minded individual than I could ever hope to be without it.

One of the most life-changing lessons of the trip for me was this: don’t wait. Create your own moments. Create them all. And how would I possibly know? I lived it!

It was a cool, breezy evening. Coming back from a long day of walking throughout London and admiring the gorgeous art pieces from the Tate Modern, Diana and I decided to just call it a day. "We're gonna head back and take a long nap. "

Except before we even reached our dorm, one of the other girls whom we had rarely conversed with, reached out to us and asked, "Hey guys? You guys want to play tennis tonight?"

Before I could utter how weary I was, Diana looked at me and mouthed, "new friends!" and turned back to the new girl to reply for me. "Yes! We'd love to play." And that sealed the deal for that evening. Tennis with new buddies. Tennis despite how tired we all felt. But gosh, as I sit here and type this, I am far more grateful now that Diana replied as she did. Her hesitant but excited, "Yes!" 

And off we headed to the courts just a short walk away from the school. Walking as a small group of 6-ish students, I felt... something happen. The makings of something magical felt all too real in the air that evening, yet at the time, I couldn’t put a finger on it. Joking around and playing tennis together. Awfully. Awfully. Without anyone keeping score, a bunch of youngsters played together under the darkening, orange sky. I felt connected. I felt present and tied by nothing but laughter and love. Perhaps I sound like a friendless teenager. For sure, I sound lame, but that night was the beginning of a beautiful friendship among our small group of friends. We weren't just building camaraderie; we were building family. 

But it was soccer games that solidified my newfound friendships. Gosh, soccer... my inner FIFA World Cup fan came out and I played as if I was a Croatian soccer player, fast and tough.

Through many games of evening soccer together (3 v 3), my friends and I were each other's defenders, opponents, and cheerleaders. Racing through the wide, green field, I found myself at ease and in tune with the girl who may not be able to run as fast as the other kids but loved to run just the same. Of course, most of the time I was out of breath and survived as my team's goalie, haha. After the two-hour length games, we would all wearily walk to the swing sets on the playground further away. It was on the swings and benches that we would share stories about our lives back home. Where we hoped to end up maybe 4 years from now. 6 years from now. Today, I keep those conversations deep in my heart. And if you were there, you would see us all trying to balance on this ride that twirls you around and around, laughing. You would hear us play loud music and belt our voices as loud as we could to Let It Go or some American rock classic. Just kids, all with difficult, uncertain futures and lives back home. Yet despite that, we managed to bond over the simplest things: sports and music.

And if you were walking alongside us in Brighton along the busy shops and the boba shops, you would see us all grouped together, carefully crossing the streets in our summer sandals, laughing about some musical nonsense. In those moments, I felt as if my heart was home. It felt as if... a part of me would always belong to those moments, belong with the friends I had made there, belong to England.

Gosh. England...

On my plane back to Houston, there was more than enough evidence to say that I had just made a lifetime of happiness and friendships in the span of two weeks. I kept these friendships and though, today, the group chat is clearly not as alive as it used to be, but the support is still there. We all separated back into our lives and promised each other we would live them to the best of our ability. It is difficult to communicate how proud I am of every single person I met on the trip and how I hope they really live their dreams. Each of them deserves that and more—they deserve to have it all, to have the world.

For me after my trip had ended, my dreams lied in... "what are my next steps to getting into the college of my dreams?"

Hence, after England, I worked hard and spent the rest of the summer applying to college fly-ins to which I fell in love with Smith. It was indescribably quick how fast I fell in love but when I did, it did not feel all too different from the love I had for England.
Each of those fly-ins felt as if I was reliving England except the location was different, the people were different, but the adventure was still there. The adventure would always be there. And it was with that mindset that made every fly-in so unique and memorable. England taught me that I can be thrown into a whole new world and still flourish like no one's business. And that is an aspect of myself that won't go away any time soon and I hope to keep cultivating.

My ultimate decision to choose Smith lies not in the fact that it was far from home or that it was traditionally an all-women's college but in the belief that this is a place I can see myself becoming the best version of myself just as England and the wonderful, beautiful people I met there, encouraged me to be. England has, undoubtedly, taught me many life lessons, but it has also helped inform my decisions after it. 

Today as a sophomore at Smith, I have yet to finalize my major. I have yet to figure out the details beyond the next year or so, but day by day, I am driven towards refugee politics as I reconnect with the history of how I came to be in the US. I do not yet know what desiring this future would mean for me. However, I do know that my trip to England allowed me to see how interconnected and beautiful the globe that we share is. I hope to fit more pieces of the globe into my mind. I wish to grow and use the knowledge that I cultivate to help efforts made to improve it--- little by little, tiny chunk by tiny chunk, in all the ways I know best.
I hope that you’ll throw yourself into a new world and create what you can, while you can. There’s not a life after this one.😊

So. Let's do this thing.

Let's be brave.
Your girl... <3
Ngoc

P.S. I need you to imagine what it is you want to create in your life. Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid to dream limitlessly. Surround yourself with people who inspire you and... I can’t wait to see what you’ll create. 😊 

A random link to a random place: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AO1OqWwKj1A&ab_channel=SMTOWN
Haha, I know this is a love song but the feelings it gives me, reminds me of England. ^_^

It is

Love is a moment.

Love is a moment stretched. 

Love is made up of moments.

A moment will happen.

And it will happen to you.

Or has it already happened?

You deserve it. 

You deserve to feel safe

in its embrace.

And you deserve to let go

when you want. 

Do what you want with it.

It is with you.

Episode 49: In Power and Imperfect

Staying in one place all day, every day, doesn't inspire me to do anything. I would feel defeated, each time as I attempt something new or learning something new, yet I am gifted with the gift of time. Days, weeks, months of time that I can decide what to do with.

Yet... I fall into the traps of games and Netflix. Not that they're traps, per say. However, whenever I spend time watching shows or playing games, I both feel great but also... not so great. A double-edged sword. As if time spent just living out the joys of "what's going to happen in the next episode" or "let's play another game. I'mma winnn" is going to make me any happier. It does, doing these things do, but only for a moment. It's not the kind of happiness that lasts for me.

As much as I indulge myself and as much as I read social media that convinces me that I need this, that I need "be kind to yourself. this is a difficult time." I can't help but feel that I'm over-indulging to the point that I'm not changing. I'm not improving or growing in any way. 

At this point, I wonder if it's self-harm. To not grow at all. 

On the same note, I'm also trying to figure out what major I might want to have and pursue. I'm trying to imagine my life. I'm trying to dream, but each time, I am left uninspired, unmoved, and later, undetermined to continue and call it a day. Pushing the efforts to ask myself these important questions to the next day, the next evening, the next morning. 

The fact that I haven't come up with any answer worries me but it doesn't surprise me. 

How am I supposed to know things I truly don't know? 

Some would call this the act of finding myself. 

But I must ask, what is there to find? If there's nothing there? 

My ill feelings about how each day starts meshing together, how uninspired I am, how stagnant I feel, and how I can't seem to find any answers about myself boil down to one thing.

I think I've had it all wrong. 

It's not about finding myself. 

That makes it seem like I have to go on a quest and locate what I don't have yet. Or to locate something that's always been within me that I didn't know I had. 

I think it's more about creating myself. I said it best to a friend of mine a few days ago during a knee-deep vent.

 I feel like... there's a lot of emphasis on "finding yourself." What if we had it all wrong? What if it was actually about.... "creating yourself?"

So really, taking what we already know or how little we know about ourselves and to keep exploring until we have a better vision of the lives we want to lead and then, creating that vision and making it a reality. Creating ourselves.

What if, right? 

After sending that text to my friend, I realized the truth in my own words and what the implications would mean.

What reality do I want? And if I can't make the smaller realities I want happen (write the short story I've always wanted to write, be able to run again, learn to sing this one song) then how can I make the bigger realities happen? 

Learning new skill after skill. Exploring and nurturing my curiosities. Creating new curiosities. Putting in the effort it takes to make my goals a reality. And slowly, with every new reality I achieve (which really means accomplishing each new goal lol), I am shaping myself. 

I am creating myself. 

I am in power of creating a knowledgeable, motivated, healthy, and intelligent human being. 

I am in power of creating experiences. Making them happen. Putting a finger on the map, getting myself there, bring the people I want there, and create the life I want. 

Create the me, that I want to be.

It might take forever for me to find myself. 

But it doesn't take forever to create myself. Creating myself slowly, and gaining the wisdom within the creating process, before and after the creating process. 

Having the stories to tell. Curating new skills, upgrading while also appreciating the present. 

Always. 

Lol, in more ways than one, this episode is pretty vent-y. 

Aren't they always? :P

I hope this episode finds you somewhere, snacking on something, or not snacking. Or listening to something you like. Or reading something you like (this blog!) or being curious about what your next creation might be.

I'm praying for you. I care about you. Good evening 'world!

Best,

Ngocie the girl turning twenty

ew that's so old.

omg, im turning 20. AGHGHGHGHGHHGHG

P.S. just breathe, kid. you got this. soon you'll be 90. hopefully. if not, big welps only. if yes, dang, i hope that when you're 90 and revisiting your own blog, that you feel, "yooo I called it!" give yourself a head pat and love your grandkids. omg grandchildren. ohmigod. that's if you'll have kids. :I if you don't though, then no grandchildren. but you know, 90 year olds have great-grand children so. 

great-grandchildren sound fun. 

great-great grand children sound more fun though.

i hope your friends are still alive. 

welp that just got unnecessarily dark.

Episode 48: Unsurety

I swivel in the dark, unable to find any comfort in sleeping.

For the first time, in years, it hits me how little I know about myself.

No more reusing the same excuses over and over: "but you still have time, to figure things out" others would say.

"You're a smart, resourceful girl. You'd find it in time."

I can't shrug off the truth. The bigger truth. I have to make money. I have to "grow up". I feel like I've been escaping, running away from this for too long. I've hidden behind the cushion that all I am... is a student right now. Learning is all I'm up to.

The things that I have to figure out?

A pathway that would bring me fulfillment, financial stability, allow me to provide my parents a happy retirement. A pathway that would bring me joy, excitement, and stir a wealth of happiness, purpose, and allow me to leave my short life with a bang bappa boom.

And the list goes on. And on.

I'm, haha, I'm only 19. 20 in a month of two. And... wow.

I imagined I would know more about myself by now, than to feel as if I know less.

This whole post is a rant, my dear friends, about having the luxury to be undecided on a major.

I'm deeply grateful for the gift of choice. But with it is the gift or, as I sometimes see it, the burden of responsibility.

To keep my promises.

"Don't worry. We'll move out of this sad sad house once I make it, Mom!"

Meanwhile, my inner dialogue is screaming, shrieking shrilly an indefinite song of unsurety, "you don't even know what you like. Your life is a lie. Shaped by what others wanted of you. What the heck do you even want?"

"I'm going to do great things. I have some plans, some vague plans but they're plans nonetheless. And I'm going to live life greatly. Give greatly. Love greatly. Be great!"

Inner dialogue signaling sirens: "lol. fool. real life will smack you so hard. you won't even see it coming. your expectations, poof, out the window."

Maybe this is a lesson, to not make promises I can't keep.

But beyond this, is fear. I fear so much. I fear making a choice that I will regret years down the line.

I fear regret. I fear death, unexpected, hopefully quick, but exists in every choice - will I be able to look back on the few years I lived and be happy about them? The gift of breath and life, I have. The gift of breath and life, I won't one day. Is this the moment that all of these choices come down to?

Am I in that moment? (heck yes, girlie. heck YEAH)

How do I make the most of this short life? Live it in all the ways I want selfishly and unselfishly?

That I give and take all I can out of it.

Which, haha, brings me to the original points of this story...

A major.

Not that a major defines me but... the doors each will open.

All a little different. Some more nuanced than others.

This is what you'd feel before an adventure isn't it?

The fear. The thrill. The expectations. The questions.

The hope. The wonder of a wanderer.

As they gaze out at a colored, crisp ever-changing map in their hands, their next steps stand steps away. Looking back up into the forest, filled with funtastical things and nightmares, I wish them courage. I wish that they find more answers. I wish that they don't... fail too hard.

haha im so dark lol omg if i keep going it's just going to be a rant about some third-person who represents me.

all i hope is that i die with a satisfied smile on my face.

best,
your anxious, loveable beastly soul

P.S. haha yooo i only post when I'm anxious or feeling nostalgia or feelings. when i feel, i write. yikes? or yikes. But honestly, I hope things turn out okay...

P.P.S. I hope that everyone reading this finds some comfort in each of your beautiful lives. That each of you are doing something, anything, that makes you damned happy to be alive. It's tough right now in ways I do and don't know, but things... things will be okay. My prayers to you all.

<3 

Apples and Bananas

I just finished skinning 8 apples. And as I was doing that, I remembered how I first truly became scared of knives.

It's such a simple "ya-basic" story.

When I was 6, I loved eating bananas in a special way.

Keep the banana as it is. Don't peel it.

Cut half-inch slices across it.

My mother would do this and bring the slices to me as a snack.

I'd peel the outside of the slices and pop a banana slice into my mouth.

And I would just feel like the hottest thing on earth.

Protip: Sometimes, it's not what you're eating, but how you eat it.

Then one evening, I really craved eating bananas this way.

My mother was gone.

(I'm still 6 btw. :P)

I grabbed a banana and a knife. Went to the sink, and cut it the exact way I saw my mother did.

I put the length of the banana in my hand, and just pushed the knife down, towards my hand, for each slice.

After pushing the knife down the 4 fourth time, I realized my hand stung.

I didn't know why.

I dropped the banana into the sink. Checked my hand. It was bleeding in three perfect lines on the back of my pointer and middle finger.

I ran cold water over it and bandaged them.

But I never touched a knife again.

To this day, my mother still uses her hand as a cutting board.

She is... unreal. Godly.

I cannot, will not, and should not, heh.

But hey. I skinned 8 apples today.

Didn't cut myself once :)

Be safe kids.

Episode 47: Healing - Part 1

My left leg is propped up and iced on the corner of my kitchen table. One layer of leg wrap separates my ice packet from my scarred skin. I'm pretty sure I need more than one layer but it's been three months and by now, I'm kind of addicted to the refreshing cold on my freshly swollen knee.

Each time, after removing the ice packet and rolls of leg wrap, I'd reveal a puffy knee, red with cold. I'd invite you to feel how cold my knee is if not for social norms. :P

Anywho, it has been three, going onto four months, of quarantine. It was during this time, after buying a last-minute ticket home from my second semester of college, that I decided, "no more waiting. Let's get that fancy ACL reconstruction surgery."

Lol, of course I didn't randomly want ACL surgery because YUP. I tore my ACL.

I tore it.

I tore it back in February in a "How to Play Futsal" 1 credit course that I had chosen to take, instead of horse riding. In all honestly, I thought my chances of getting hurt in my one semester of horse riding would be much higher than an indoor soccer class... which is why I quit horse riding in the first place... welp, but the friends I made in horse riding are honestly forever. They are absolutely amazing, talented individuals.

Back to the ripperoni story...So off I went into the world of indoor soccer. I had a wonderful first three classes. I made some friends, caught some high-fives, and killed it. But by the fourth class, I had twisted abruptly, trying to the kick the ball in. Probably twisted too awkwardly. I heard the infamous pop. A crack of pain ran down my knee. I fell to the ground. And I swear, I fell in slow-motion.

Slow-motion is no joke.

It hit me, as I was on all fours on the ground, gasping at the incredible amount of pain, one word came to mind. "Fuck."

I tried crawling, trying to get back up again, but my poor, poor knee could not handle it. It kept buckling, so I don't know why, but in that moment, I thought crawling was the best thing. My coach had to blow the whistle at me and my comrades had to tell me "yooo stop crawling" for me to stop.

Arms lifted me up gingerly. My mind was blank except for the pain pole dancing in my knee.

"Can you try walking?" my coach asked. I tried, and lol, I buckled. And the three of us were kind of like "oo~oo~p".

"Okay okay, let's not then. Can someone get her a chair?"

It would be 1.5 months later that I would finally get an accurate diagnosis. It took a 30 minute drive in hard rain, in a rented car, my friend driving, none of us knowing how to turn on the wind shield wipers despite both of us having drivers licenses (to this day, I cannot believe that we made it to the MRI office in that rain and what the actual freak, lol. I am an actual disgrace haha xD), quick dangerous turns in the dark, and crutching on wet wet pavement -- it took all of that to get an MRI.

Finally, the day of my finalized diagnosis came. I had asked a mentor of mine from my Narratives Project, a wonderful, warm, positive individual; she's too good to be real. Too damn good. I asked her if she could drive me to the hospital. She said yes. I found myself buckled in her car three hours later, nervous-talking about my knee, about her life and what she did before teaching at Smith... those would be my last absentmindedly happy moments. In her car. Laughing and vibing with this wonderful wonderful motherly, goose-motherly, gentle gentle loving soul.

foreshadowingggg

The nurse called me in. The doctor shook my hand. He sat down and said, "Bad news or good news?"

"Bad news first, Doctor."

"I was... unfortunately right. Your ACL is torn. Completely. Here, on this MRI, you see this dark area? That's where it's torn. And it seems you bruised your femur and tibia a LOT, which is pretty cool. Cool in a bad way, heh.

Hey, but the good news is, the surgery to get it reconstructed is a simple one and I'm positive you won't run into any surgery mishaps."

I burst out laughing.

I laughed. I laughed-cried. That moment, as I sat at the edge of the examination bed, dangling my leg over to the side, I felt the most funny-sad feeling ever.

I would have to go through surgery. All because of one stupid, stupid mistake. I twisted a little too much. That was it.

For 1.5 months before my official diagnosis, I crutched throughout Smith, waited for vans to take me to class and take me home, and couldn't so much as carry my own plate to the dinner table. I was told that I had a knee sprain and that I would only have to wait it out. 2 weeks passed. 3 weeks went. I still couldn't walk. I would wake up each morning, praying there wasn't snow or rain to crutch through.

I ended up moving from my beautiful house with that beautiful street view to a new dorm, one with an elevator. I tried to stay in my old room for three days, sitting on the stairs to go up and go down step by step. Throwing up my crutches and backpack or sliding them both down the stairs first. I relied on my roommate to get me ice. I hardly went to dinner those first few days. I didn't want to bother with stairs. I was a sad hump of human. The first night that I got injured, an officer drove me from the hospital back to school. He helped me up the ramp and then up the two flights of stairs. I hopped all the way up. Tired. Sad. Confused. He was so kind, holding my backpack and giving me encouragement for each step I managed to hop up. It would be relying on these little moments, that helped me get through each day emotionally.

After moving to a dorm with an elevator, my social life was immediately limited to my new dorm, its cafeteria and my room. Every movement I made had to be strategized and planned: there were no "backsies." My new room was one farthest from the elevator, ironically. Geez. :P

Hey, all of that up there was pretty sad; and it really was. But through it all, I consider myself lucky. Very lucky. And grateful. People made my life much better. It made those 1.5 months much happier. The friends that I had made in my classes, from horse riding (which I'd quit welp), and through all the "by chances", they made themselves available for me. They would walk with me at my slow pace to wherever I needed to go. They'd come to my dorm, far from where they are, to have dinner with me. They'd help me move, heavy heavy boxes of stuff from my old and new dorm, and later, when Smith made us scatter, they would help me clean out my old dorm room. They would grab the grab-and-gos from Hubbard and come back to eat in our gov class, while we plugged in an episode of the office into the overhead. They would randomly call in, to check with me, no matter where they were in the country (Faith, I'm talking about you). I had friends who were up for spontaneous eating out trips and who were willing to grab me boba from my favorite restaurant in Amherst - Miss Saigon - or down in Northampton - Lime Red (I love Miss Saigon's boba more heh). They'd come, study with me, go to concert festivals with me in John M Greene hall. Or, maybe we'd go see a hypnotist show at UMass. All of us boarding the bus, walking the length of UMass to get to their show halls, walking at my speed as I crutched through 30 degree weather and wind. The entire time, they cheerfully egged me on and we would all laugh or talk about something dumb, smiling through the quick-setting hunger. We would later be hungry, and crutch to a bus, head out to Amherst for something to eat or drink. More mishaps would come after that haha... but I remember all of those moments fondly.

Thank you my dear friends.

Without all of you, I would not have been as positive as I was about the entire situation.

You reminded me that where there is love, there is hope. And where there is hope, there is healing. Thank you, my beautiful friends.

I'm getting much better now.

Another, perhaps "short" blog post will be written for Part 2. I'm post-surgery and now? I can walk without crutches. :)

I hope this blog post finds you well and that you're finding your own hope, during this time <3

Your girl,
Ngoc

P.s. My friends, thank you againnnn. My heart cannot wait to see you all again, on two working legs :P.

P.p.s. Yen, I didn't forget you. You're the OG sis. :))

P.p.p.s. BIG thank you to Lauv - Sad Forever [Official Video] - YouTube. No kidding this song has gotten me through everything. I needed to focus on what I could do today. And not look at how far the distance from me now to the stronger, future me is. I'll be okay. 

episode notes from May 2017 :P

Episode ideas in case you run out:

- parents, family
- the perks of having a little sis
- connecting with nature
- going outside to think, self reflecting helps you get your life together
- just, go have fun, YOLO. one life maun.
- sleep, find that time to sleep
- if you've ever been sick, your health is your number one priority here
- Freedom
- listening to advice, honest advice - sometimes, that stuff can help. even from people you least expect to say eye-opening things. :I
- listen for once, you'll find something. you'll realize something you didn't before
- youtube teaches you a lot

the thing about writing these blog posts is the surprising amount of effort it takes to put words onto a document. Like you wouldn't know. It's about knowing how to play with words to bring out just the right amount of feeling, the right amount of everything that you want your message to carry. It's about weighing that and recognizing that your writing will have flaws and sometimes, I'd come back to my earlier posts and fix silly mistakes or add stuff or whatever. Writing is constantly a checking process and I love how once you write something, it's there forever. You never really forget an episode.

- 5/14/17