Yeah. That Asian-parents-are-super-strict stereotype? It's a load bull. (For me, at least.)
When I got a C on a division test in third grade, I, a frightened daughter, crawled to my parents' bedroom almost a week after I received the grade and showed them my failure. But instead of the disappointed lecture I had expected, my mom just told me to do better next time.
And I don't know what happened, but something in me ticked.
I started studying like crazy and feeling really bad about myself, but my dreams were later crushed when I got a B on my next test instead of an A. After that, I would try punishing myself by locking myself up in my room so I couldn't play outside. I was eight.
So yesterday, after I made this blog, I did that. I locked myself in my room and thought about what I did.
And I realized this would be hard. I don't even know if I can do this.
I mean seriously, just a few days ago I thought, "Hey! I really feel like writing! I should write more of that story I started last week! YEAH!"
But instead I made cookies.
And yesterday, when I had the whole day to write, I spent hours making a blog I'm pretty sure I can't even commit to.
And right now when I thought, "I'll just make all of my pictures on Paint because I'm too lazy to take my own."
I'm not a finisher. I'm not good at finishing things. I don't even know how I'm going to finish this blog post.
Um... end.
