My mother sometimes requests things from the library for me. Oftentimes she gets test prep books and things like that, which I try to avoid touching unless she bothers me about it. But this time she got me the book Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell, a book I have been meaning to read for some time.
This book has made me see success in a different way. I have to say, I am like the majority of people - I like to hear those stories about a poor person who works hard and is talented and becomes successful (rich and happy). But really, you need more than talent to be successful.
What happens to you is shaped a lot by the kinds of circumstances you have. Sometimes it takes a lot of luck for you to become successful. In the book, there is a list of the 75 richest people in the world. Many people were wealthy because they happened to be royalty. But there were also quite a few Americans, all born at about the same time (around 1830's to 1840's). This was a good time to be born if you were going to be an entrepreneur.
I've been thinking how a person's experiences can also change their personality. My parents have said that I was placed in a combination class (meaning a class consisting of students of two different grades) because when I was in kindergarten I was thought to be mature enough for it or something like that. I'm probably more afraid to talk to teachers now that I'm older than when I was younger... It was a struggle for me, the time after one of my closest friends moved away, in fifth grade. I had other friends, but they had become closer to their other friends, and I didn't want to be a third wheel, a tagalong. I turned to books and to the Internet (and ever since I've been hooked on the computer...) and became rather reclusive. I didn't want to make friends, since I felt that I would lose them again, and even if I had wanted to, I'm not sure I would have been able to. I was losing my ability to communicate.
There was a time that I was angry at my friend for moving away, and at her father (because he had gotten a job elsewhere, and in order to keep the family together, they had moved). And then there was a time when I was really sad. But eventually I subconsciously had moved on, and I started to mingle again. (It was slow, though, and one of the friends I made that year moved away the very next year...) I guess there's a part of me that fears getting involved and attached to things because I suspect that I will lose them. But I hope I can become brave enough to overcome this.
I feel oddly peaceful nowadays, after having gone on a few walks by myself. I visited the recreational sort of place in my town. Unfortunately, it wasn't the quite oasis that I had suspected. The pool was quite loud since there seemed to be some kids from summer camps there. There were older people playing volleyball (meaning older than the kids swimming, not meaning senior citizens) and there was a group of adults walking over to some benches. (I kept wondering why they weren't at work. I mean, it was a weekday, after all. My mom says they were on a group outing or something like that.) But it was still nice to be by the creek. I'm grateful to photography because it has made me pay more attention to little things, and I appreciate the beauty of nature much more than I used to. And I can take my time thinking. I feel like I'm reliving my life, and returning to my old self. Or maybe I'm discovering my true self for the first time.
Labels: bravery, circumstances, discovery, emotions, fear, friends, introverted, luck, malcolm gladwell, memories, outliers, peace, personality, success, thoughts, timing, truth, walk
I just read a book called Sand Dollar Summer by Kimberly K. Jones. In the book, the main character had said that if there had been only a few seconds of difference, the driver of a car wouldn't have collided with her mom's car and caused an accident. And then they probably wouldn't have gone back to her mom's old home of Maine. And if she hadn't gone to Maine a lot of things wouldn't have happened. It's like the butterfly/dead grasshopper effect.
For some people, "every penny counts" is not something they believe in. When they drop a few coins on the ground, they don't bother to pick it up because they feel it's not worth the effort. (I pick up money when I see it, though. I like coins since they're all...metallic.)
I was a few seconds away from trauma and possibly death myself on Thursday. I was standing on the sidewalk waiting for the light to change so I could cross the street. Right as I was stepping out on the street a car to my left was trying to turn right...It almost crashed into the three people walking a bit ahead of me. The driver stopped quite suddenly to avoid rolling over us. If the driver had seen us pedestrians a little bit later, I might have witnessed a car accident. And I'd be standing in front of a gruesome scene, calling 911 in a panicked fashion. Or perhaps if I had walked forward a bit more I would've been in the accident too. Imagine, just a few seconds can make so big a difference...
Sometimes I don't know what to think. At times, life moves too quickly, but at other times it seems painstakingly slow. I think time, like what happens to you, depends on how you interpret it... I guess time is really just a concept, though we may "measure" it with clocks.
And then there is this theory that perhaps life is just a dream. That we've been dreaming a long time and we simply haven't woken up yet. The line between dreams and reality can easily be blurred. I was thinking of Yosemite one night before I slept and then I had a dream where I was there, except things were weird there (dreams, after all, can be rather unrealistic, as they don't make sense at all...). I can't remember the dream anymore. I wish that I could. But it's like water - it flows right out of your hand...
Labels: book, butterfly effect, car accident, coins, concept, dreams, every penny counts, life, reality, sand dollar summer, seconds, speed, time, truth, yosemite

Today's homework was to write a poem about ourselves. The poem started and ended with "I am -namegoeshere-." In the poem there are eight other lines. Four of those lines are true things about ourselves and the other four are lies. I thought it was interesting that my teacher wanted us to write lies about ourselves. Was it for fun, so we could pick out which parts were right and which parts were false?
I've never been much of a poet myself, I'm afraid. When I was young I tried my hand at writing a poem. I think I still have it tucked away in a notebook. Now that I look back at it, the poem seems rather meaningless and rough. I guess that things always look different when time passes, though. Drawings that seemed good to me when I was younger just look funny when I get older. And seeing pictures of myself a few years ago, I think, "Wow, I looked really different then." (But after a while I always looked similar in the pictures. I suppose it means I'm getting old.)
Sometimes I wonder if it's better to always tell the truth or if it's okay to lie sometimes. Most of the time telling the truth is the better thing to do - it shows you have integrity, and people who lie tend to get found out anyways (unless they're good at lying. I mean, I heard all the best thieves are never caught).
But telling the truth can be a harsh thing. Sometimes this happens to me, or I see it with other people... A person asks their friends, "Do you like my ____?" or says, "My drawing is so terrible!" And their friends would just say they liked it or that their drawing was bad right away. I wonder if they really mean it or if they're like me...Sometimes, even if I don't really think as highly of something as the person asking me does, I just say "It's nice" or something like that anyways. I figure they'd be offended if I say "I'm not really that fond of it." I don't want to hurt their feelings, so I just pick the safe choice and pretend.
But how much longer can this go on? How much longer until it all unravels? I can't always live my life like this, can I? And yet speaking my mind could be costly too. I don't know what I would rather do.
There's also a different situation, one I haven't come across yet, but still a possible one. Say there is a person who actually has some health problems. In fact, they have a terminal illness, but they don't know it - but some people close to them know. The person would become depressed and listless if they found out about it, but as long as they think they're not going to die soon they are able to live their life happily and blithely. Do you think they should know because they deserve to know their own fate? Or should the truth be hidden from the person so they can enjoy what life they have left?
Anyways, on to a different topic... Today in PE class, my PE teacher spoke to us about a girl who has one of the school records for triple jump. She is still in the school (in fact, she is in my grade). The teacher said, "I've heard a few people suggesting she's been using steroids. That's not true at all. She trains really hard every day with a professional coach, and worked to make her legs and body strong. Don't say that she's been cheating and taking the easy way out by using steroids. She has really good work ethic. I think people who are saying that she uses steroids are just jealous. And yeah, it makes sense to be jealous, but you can just say, 'Wow, she's good.' You don't need to mention steroids."
There are some athletes out there, such as a few baseball players, who use steroids. Some folks think that athletes who have used steroids should be taken out of the Hall of Fame or whatever records they got into. My PE teacher had an idea for it...He said he should leave both the records of people who used steroids and those who didn't in the records, but that the people who used steroids would get a * next to their name. I think that's a pretty good idea. That way everyone will get credit, but people who decided to use steroids would have some shame. I think it's only fair. If you do something dishonorable, you have to pay the consequences. (I believe in poetic justice. But it's not always dealt like that in life.)
Labels: athlete, baseball, death, fate, friends, happiness, innocence, justice, lie, life, opinion, PE class, picture, poem, pretend, record, steroids, thief, time, truth