Saturday, February 9, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
Who are you?
This is who I am. xD
I just asked a girl for her number, to which she made a face, and said, "I don't think you're serious."
Let me explain, her expression wasn't saying, "GTFO, I'm better than you," but rather, "I feel like I'm being set up/trolled."
I countered (weakly), "Why do you think I'm not serious?" (LOGICAL RESPONSES NEVER WORK. GOTTA AVOID EM IN THE FUTURE.)
She rejected me in the end.
You know how I coped? I made a THEORY.
That's right, I made a THEORY, about BEING SERIOUS.
REIKAI'S THEORY OF SRSNSS
If you're being serious about being serious, well done. You'll be serious.
If you're being serious about being silly, congrats. You'll be silly.
If you're being silly about being serious, you may end up being silly.
If you're being silly about being serious, you may end up being serious.
If you're silly about being serious while being serious about how silly you're being while you're being serious and silly, you may be hit with an F5 tornado. General consensus is to avoid this option.
SHOULDA HIT HER WIT DAT THEORY
I just asked a girl for her number, to which she made a face, and said, "I don't think you're serious."
Let me explain, her expression wasn't saying, "GTFO, I'm better than you," but rather, "I feel like I'm being set up/trolled."
I countered (weakly), "Why do you think I'm not serious?" (LOGICAL RESPONSES NEVER WORK. GOTTA AVOID EM IN THE FUTURE.)
She rejected me in the end.
You know how I coped? I made a THEORY.
That's right, I made a THEORY, about BEING SERIOUS.
REIKAI'S THEORY OF SRSNSS
If you're being serious about being serious, well done. You'll be serious.
If you're being serious about being silly, congrats. You'll be silly.
If you're being silly about being serious, you may end up being silly.
If you're being silly about being serious, you may end up being serious.
If you're silly about being serious while being serious about how silly you're being while you're being serious and silly, you may be hit with an F5 tornado. General consensus is to avoid this option.
SHOULDA HIT HER WIT DAT THEORY
Thursday, February 7, 2013
My Memories Are Fading
This is my 21st birthday blog post, written a bit early. I may edit and chop as time goes on, in the direction of up to one week before or after my birthday, as memories come and go. The title comes from the fact that, well, these memories are fading, and I don't want to lose them without being able to recall them at a later date. I also thought you guys might be interested in some of them. It's meant to be a happy post, but some of it is really honest/brutal/exactly what I saw. Basically it's me :D
Here is a list of some memories of my life, particularly relating to soccer, which I usually consider the best thing I've experienced so far.
The earliest soccer thing I remember is mom driving me back from a practice/game and angrily scolding me for even thinking of quitting. I remember saying it's ok to quit, but I would have to finish the season first. Thanks for not letting me quit right then and there. Even though I went to play some T-ball, dad made sure I wore #10, the number that still hangs on my door today. "Why number 10?" I asked. "10 for 10 home runs!" he replied.
I remember playing for Scott Minetta and the Kickers and being so proud of my stupid light/dark blue checkered shorts, and being able to kick the farthest of any kid on the team, provided the ball was nicely lined up for my right foot. I would repeatedly blast the ball upfield from my right defender spot every time it would come to me, hoping that somehow, following my one skill I had to a tee would make me a great player. I had no idea how far I would go, and that at one point or another, I would get there.
I remember playing for a team called the Flame. We went something like 0-9-1. I think it was for only one season, and I remember feeling like quitting again. Then we created the Fire.
The first kid the show up besides me was Andrew Journey. I remember asking him, (quite awkwardly), "Are you good?...by your standards?" Dad and Mr. Journey were talking, and I can't remember what Andrew said. Soon enough more and more kids showed up, and began practicing. Dad warned me that he wasn't going to give me any special treatment. I accepted that fine, but what he said about building a team was confusing. He said it would take a long time. I didn't understand that part.
Andrew Journey's modern day equivalent, Messi:
At first it felt like every other team. Losing. Our jerseys even kind of resembled the Flame jerseys, with red and black design. We weren't ready to show the world what it meant to wear red.
I particularly remember losing to the Dusters a lot. Killian, Charles, Dwight, Jordan, Jeff, Chance, Clint, Trey, and their supporting squad destroyed us every time we stepped on the field.
I remember joking with Clint in 2nd or 3rd grade, saying we were going to beat them, right before we played them 2 games in a row. He just laughed and smiled, saying we wouldn't win. He was right, we went down 0-8 and 0-4. In one of the games, I remember becoming very frustrated, and dribbling off by myself, beating 2 defenders by myself before taking an elbow to the stomach after a decent shot. This was on Warren 1. In the other game, I remember beating Clint's slide tackle, and running 30 yards up the field, and making a stellar pass to the left winger. This was on the field to the east of Warren, which is sometimes an American football field depending on the season. I would never make a play like that for a very long time.
I remember the seasons during and after that time were defined by how we measured up to the Dusters. We'd lose to other teams, but there was this feeling that if we did ok against the Dusters, we'd eventually catch all the other teams that beat us, too.
I remember dad's training slowly paying off. Starting from 0-8, we progressed to 0-4, then 0-2, then 2-2, then 0-0, then 2-1. I scored that goal.
I remember time was frozen as our corner kick came in. The ball bounced off the right side of my abs, and sat perfectly for my over-trained right foot. From inside the box, I blasted it over the keeper's head and stretched arms for a goal. I ran back without celebrating, not even realizing what I had done. After winning that game, I had even forgotten that I had scored, but was just overcome with a sense that said, "WE had done it. WE earned this."
One of the seasons, I remember Dennis saying we beat the Dusters in points, placing fourth over their fifth. The confidence in the next training session was unbelievable. We were coming together.
Somewhere in here, I had a game where we played a team with more Latino players than white/black players for the first time. It sticks out in my mind because it was the first time where I attacked my hesitancy towards the ball and the game for the first time, and it showed. Dad told me after the game it was the best game I had played so far. He held out his hand for a high-five, and I, so happy, pulled him in for a hug. I was grinning, but I don't think he was even smiling. It was a half-hug at best. Our relationship wasn't as good as it was now.
Soon the Dusters broke up, and mom made sure that the transition went smoothly. Half of their players were coming to us, and the other half went to the Strikers, the other remaining Frisco team. They too, would beat us badly, but that was in the past. Losing Michael Goodman and Blake Akanno, our team received "veterans" Ben Haarmann, Chance Watson, and Jeff Martin.
Eventually we had an 8-1-1 season, and then a 10-0-0 season. I don't remember a single game from either season.
My best memory ever, however, came in the playoff semi-finals against the Prosper Eagles. I never really liked them because of their playstyle, which was a little rough-and-tumble, but Dennis and Zach HATED them. I remember the Eagles really wanting to win, and of course at the height of the Fire, there was no end to the challengers.
I don't remember the full time score, but near the end of the first period of overtime, Thomas Peres poked in an own goal off of one of their corner kicks. I could feel the air leave our wings. Wilson picked up the ball and walked back to the center circle. I don't think he ever respected me, but what I did next I know got his attention. I shouted out, "We did not come this far to lose." The meek, quiet kid he knew didn't match what he was seeing. My expression was so defiant. At that moment I was so determined to win. I couldn't leave anything to chance, considering how hard we'd trained.
We couldn't equalize before the end of the first overtime period. Confidence was starting to run out. We were walking back to the bench before the start of the second OT, and I was just spouting generalities like "Keep your heads up!" when one of their players walked past me. He uttered just one word, "Scoreboard."
Make sure to be listening to this song :D
It psyched me out. It didn't spur me on like it would in a movie, it didn't make me stronger or faster or anything. But I remembered what mom always said about people who talk trash; what comes around goes around. Little did he know.
Into the second OT, Wilson gets fouled, and I remember dad calling on me to take the kick. I don't remember aiming. I just remember worrying, thinking, "I've never scored a free kick. What does he expect out of me?" I strike the ball, and not only was it on target, it was in the upper left corner, out of any goalkeeper's reach. Dennis called it goal of the year.
Later we get a corner, I take it and serve it to Wilson who heads home the game winner, still in OT. I remember feeling the rain/mist after they kicked off, right before the final whistle. It felt like everything would be ok, everything would end in a fair fashion. I guess it was a nice illusion to hold for a while :)
I remember beating Marlin and the Strikers that season in the finals the game after by scoring a header to equalize, then making my penalty and stopping Kanyon's mom from playing "We Are The Champions" on a stereo after the game. Idiot.
I think at this point, middle school soccer started. Coach Carroll and Coach Fuller had no idea what they were doing. They called stuff like overlapping runs "gay" and ousted those drills for shittier ones. Brandon Blade, a soccer newbie, once made a smart backpass to goalkeeper at-the-time Wilson in a tight situation, and was scolded for it. I remember asking Coach Carroll if I could play striker more often after I scored on Garrett Vascil in our game against Wester. (Garrett and Ben were the only ones of quality at Wester, I think) In the face of 4 or 5 other adults and no other kids, he ignored my question.
I remember playing Clark, where Jordan from the Dusters used the move dad taught him to burn me and equalize for his team. I made my penalty in the shootout after, but everyone just remembered the final penalty taken, I think it was Chance's, or Walker's.
In the summer between middle and high school, I remember getting beaten 0-5 in a 1v1 against Jimmy Irwin, one of which was a nutmeg. It was another quitting opportunity I didn't take.
The first year of WHS varsity soccer was a joke, so much that Matt Glasthal and others asked dad to coach them, after our efforts at FSA. Too bad this was impossible; WHS might have a few more trophies in its cases.
I remember being the JV team to beat, and Coach Oglesby getting more credit than was physically possible at the time. There was a point where he was awarded a plaque (by his own kids' parents, not a school board or anything) for winning 100 games. He must have been counting practice scrimmages too, because between JV and Varsity combined, total games including losses were less than 50.
I will never forget each and every excuse he made to me as he found more and more words to prevent me from playing Varsity, especially as I broke each and every request he made of me, such as becoming JV captain, beating Aaron/Walker in a 1v1 consistently (I beat them once each, but they would always foul me and get the ball back, so I'd never really "win," I guess), etc. Most of these, the other kids couldn't do either.
I will never forget my shock as I heard Enright yell at me like Coach O did, only to look over, see Coach O standing next to him , and hear my teammate tell me not to worry, because it was Oglesby telling Enright to do that. The ashamed, solemn expression on Enright's face told me I was hearing the truth.
I will never forget being told that I could be worlds better at soccer, if I had only spent less time on video games and more on my soccer technique. Dad, I know it probably hurts to read this, but it made me who I am today. It made me realize that it's foolish to set a goal and chase it using only one foot. Of course, I almost lost my scholarship at UTD before it really sank in, but still.
I remember Hunt (Aaron's dad) telling me I played perfectly after one match on Dr. Pink when I was captain my junior year. I floated on cloud nine for a while; it was the first time someone I wasn't related to but respected told me I had done a good job. It was kind of like making a 100 on a test, if you had been making 75s all your life. Besides, dad always said you're no good until somebody else notices and tells you that you're any good.
I will never forget killing the Fire. I had become a complete player, picking up first defense, then passing, then dribbling, and finally shooting. Dad even relegated our strikers to make room for the total player he created. Later though, he thought that rec soccer wasn't enough development, and it was time to try to move on to select teams. I remember the speech he gave once it was decided. It was a Fire after-season party at Manny's like we always do. It wasn't sad at the time, but looking back now, and realizing what kind of perfect organization we gave up (thanks mom) and what kind of determination we had (thanks dad) really kind of hurts. It's still the best thing that happened to me. I learned how to keep going when it seemed impossible, how to win graciously, how to lose and take it to the practice field and turn a loss into a win, how to operate in a strange situation (remember the Fire's strange tournament level of strength on sundays, when the mormons aren't there? We'd win a tournament then "lose." Ah well.) among many more. I don't think enough good things can be said. The only downside is that Troy wasn't able to experience something like it; maybe he does at GDYO. Hard to compare.
Me after years of training:
I have memories of Jimmy Harrison and Andromeda and the Strikers after both of those season and the unforgettable Jeremy Fripp, but somethings are best forgotten.
I remember busting my ass during the gap summer after high school graduation only to be let down by how UTD soccer was/is run.
I will never forget how close I was to tears when I told mom and dad about my decision to quit soccer, after coming so damn far. I will also never forget how relieved I was when you guys were totally cool with it. I still appreciate the support I get, even if it's for some silly indoor games. (We all know outdoor is the true game.)
This is getting -extra long-, so I'm going to finish it up.
Troy, I know this has next to nothing in it regarding you, but I was a total asshole to you growing up, and I'm still ashamed of it. I know I should have been a better example. Also, you ARE the Golden Child. You are EXPECTED to pass me. Growing up, I had only mom and dad to learn from, but you had me to learn from also. It doesn't upset me that you are going to pass me, in fact I'm welcoming it. I couldn't be more proud of you.
Dad, I'm glad you left to Thailand and came back. It seems to have given us the room to grow and understand each other from the distance we usually operate from, but come back together closer than ever as 2 parts of 1 family. I remember the countless mornings of sitting at the breakfast table, staring out the window, eating Toaster Strudels and not saying a word to each other until it was time for school. You were so quiet and introspective that I copied it seeking acceptance. Now we can talk to each other about just about anything, without any issue. This makes me really happy. Also, I'll never be too old or too grown up to receive your advice, so please don't stop giving it.
Mom, even though I mentioned you barely more than I mentioned Troy, this was really written for you. All through my childhood, I denied showing you who I was. You frequently showed interest in who I was, and I never allowed you in. Your goofy nature always had you laughing and smiling at something, and I was afraid that I would be made fun of for being just the way I was. I saw the kids that were made fun of at school, and I didn't want to be that kid at home, where I spent lots of my free time. You've seen glimpses of who I am when I (infrequently) share my thoughts when we hang out at IHOP, and now you have a decent sample of who I am as a person.
The final thing is a song from PSY! Seriously, it's not Gangnam Style, but a song titled "Father," even though it applies to mom and dad both. I think it's a good song. NOTE: The culture in Korea is still really focused on males and the father in the family, but I believe you both worked as hard as in this video to create what we have.
Have a good day! :D
Here is a list of some memories of my life, particularly relating to soccer, which I usually consider the best thing I've experienced so far.
The earliest soccer thing I remember is mom driving me back from a practice/game and angrily scolding me for even thinking of quitting. I remember saying it's ok to quit, but I would have to finish the season first. Thanks for not letting me quit right then and there. Even though I went to play some T-ball, dad made sure I wore #10, the number that still hangs on my door today. "Why number 10?" I asked. "10 for 10 home runs!" he replied.
I remember playing for Scott Minetta and the Kickers and being so proud of my stupid light/dark blue checkered shorts, and being able to kick the farthest of any kid on the team, provided the ball was nicely lined up for my right foot. I would repeatedly blast the ball upfield from my right defender spot every time it would come to me, hoping that somehow, following my one skill I had to a tee would make me a great player. I had no idea how far I would go, and that at one point or another, I would get there.
I remember playing for a team called the Flame. We went something like 0-9-1. I think it was for only one season, and I remember feeling like quitting again. Then we created the Fire.
The first kid the show up besides me was Andrew Journey. I remember asking him, (quite awkwardly), "Are you good?...by your standards?" Dad and Mr. Journey were talking, and I can't remember what Andrew said. Soon enough more and more kids showed up, and began practicing. Dad warned me that he wasn't going to give me any special treatment. I accepted that fine, but what he said about building a team was confusing. He said it would take a long time. I didn't understand that part.
Andrew Journey's modern day equivalent, Messi:
At first it felt like every other team. Losing. Our jerseys even kind of resembled the Flame jerseys, with red and black design. We weren't ready to show the world what it meant to wear red.
I particularly remember losing to the Dusters a lot. Killian, Charles, Dwight, Jordan, Jeff, Chance, Clint, Trey, and their supporting squad destroyed us every time we stepped on the field.
I remember joking with Clint in 2nd or 3rd grade, saying we were going to beat them, right before we played them 2 games in a row. He just laughed and smiled, saying we wouldn't win. He was right, we went down 0-8 and 0-4. In one of the games, I remember becoming very frustrated, and dribbling off by myself, beating 2 defenders by myself before taking an elbow to the stomach after a decent shot. This was on Warren 1. In the other game, I remember beating Clint's slide tackle, and running 30 yards up the field, and making a stellar pass to the left winger. This was on the field to the east of Warren, which is sometimes an American football field depending on the season. I would never make a play like that for a very long time.
I remember the seasons during and after that time were defined by how we measured up to the Dusters. We'd lose to other teams, but there was this feeling that if we did ok against the Dusters, we'd eventually catch all the other teams that beat us, too.
I remember dad's training slowly paying off. Starting from 0-8, we progressed to 0-4, then 0-2, then 2-2, then 0-0, then 2-1. I scored that goal.
I remember time was frozen as our corner kick came in. The ball bounced off the right side of my abs, and sat perfectly for my over-trained right foot. From inside the box, I blasted it over the keeper's head and stretched arms for a goal. I ran back without celebrating, not even realizing what I had done. After winning that game, I had even forgotten that I had scored, but was just overcome with a sense that said, "WE had done it. WE earned this."
One of the seasons, I remember Dennis saying we beat the Dusters in points, placing fourth over their fifth. The confidence in the next training session was unbelievable. We were coming together.
Somewhere in here, I had a game where we played a team with more Latino players than white/black players for the first time. It sticks out in my mind because it was the first time where I attacked my hesitancy towards the ball and the game for the first time, and it showed. Dad told me after the game it was the best game I had played so far. He held out his hand for a high-five, and I, so happy, pulled him in for a hug. I was grinning, but I don't think he was even smiling. It was a half-hug at best. Our relationship wasn't as good as it was now.
Soon the Dusters broke up, and mom made sure that the transition went smoothly. Half of their players were coming to us, and the other half went to the Strikers, the other remaining Frisco team. They too, would beat us badly, but that was in the past. Losing Michael Goodman and Blake Akanno, our team received "veterans" Ben Haarmann, Chance Watson, and Jeff Martin.
Eventually we had an 8-1-1 season, and then a 10-0-0 season. I don't remember a single game from either season.
My best memory ever, however, came in the playoff semi-finals against the Prosper Eagles. I never really liked them because of their playstyle, which was a little rough-and-tumble, but Dennis and Zach HATED them. I remember the Eagles really wanting to win, and of course at the height of the Fire, there was no end to the challengers.
I don't remember the full time score, but near the end of the first period of overtime, Thomas Peres poked in an own goal off of one of their corner kicks. I could feel the air leave our wings. Wilson picked up the ball and walked back to the center circle. I don't think he ever respected me, but what I did next I know got his attention. I shouted out, "We did not come this far to lose." The meek, quiet kid he knew didn't match what he was seeing. My expression was so defiant. At that moment I was so determined to win. I couldn't leave anything to chance, considering how hard we'd trained.
We couldn't equalize before the end of the first overtime period. Confidence was starting to run out. We were walking back to the bench before the start of the second OT, and I was just spouting generalities like "Keep your heads up!" when one of their players walked past me. He uttered just one word, "Scoreboard."
Make sure to be listening to this song :D
It psyched me out. It didn't spur me on like it would in a movie, it didn't make me stronger or faster or anything. But I remembered what mom always said about people who talk trash; what comes around goes around. Little did he know.
Into the second OT, Wilson gets fouled, and I remember dad calling on me to take the kick. I don't remember aiming. I just remember worrying, thinking, "I've never scored a free kick. What does he expect out of me?" I strike the ball, and not only was it on target, it was in the upper left corner, out of any goalkeeper's reach. Dennis called it goal of the year.
Later we get a corner, I take it and serve it to Wilson who heads home the game winner, still in OT. I remember feeling the rain/mist after they kicked off, right before the final whistle. It felt like everything would be ok, everything would end in a fair fashion. I guess it was a nice illusion to hold for a while :)
I remember beating Marlin and the Strikers that season in the finals the game after by scoring a header to equalize, then making my penalty and stopping Kanyon's mom from playing "We Are The Champions" on a stereo after the game. Idiot.
I think at this point, middle school soccer started. Coach Carroll and Coach Fuller had no idea what they were doing. They called stuff like overlapping runs "gay" and ousted those drills for shittier ones. Brandon Blade, a soccer newbie, once made a smart backpass to goalkeeper at-the-time Wilson in a tight situation, and was scolded for it. I remember asking Coach Carroll if I could play striker more often after I scored on Garrett Vascil in our game against Wester. (Garrett and Ben were the only ones of quality at Wester, I think) In the face of 4 or 5 other adults and no other kids, he ignored my question.
I remember playing Clark, where Jordan from the Dusters used the move dad taught him to burn me and equalize for his team. I made my penalty in the shootout after, but everyone just remembered the final penalty taken, I think it was Chance's, or Walker's.
In the summer between middle and high school, I remember getting beaten 0-5 in a 1v1 against Jimmy Irwin, one of which was a nutmeg. It was another quitting opportunity I didn't take.
The first year of WHS varsity soccer was a joke, so much that Matt Glasthal and others asked dad to coach them, after our efforts at FSA. Too bad this was impossible; WHS might have a few more trophies in its cases.
I remember being the JV team to beat, and Coach Oglesby getting more credit than was physically possible at the time. There was a point where he was awarded a plaque (by his own kids' parents, not a school board or anything) for winning 100 games. He must have been counting practice scrimmages too, because between JV and Varsity combined, total games including losses were less than 50.
I will never forget each and every excuse he made to me as he found more and more words to prevent me from playing Varsity, especially as I broke each and every request he made of me, such as becoming JV captain, beating Aaron/Walker in a 1v1 consistently (I beat them once each, but they would always foul me and get the ball back, so I'd never really "win," I guess), etc. Most of these, the other kids couldn't do either.
I will never forget my shock as I heard Enright yell at me like Coach O did, only to look over, see Coach O standing next to him , and hear my teammate tell me not to worry, because it was Oglesby telling Enright to do that. The ashamed, solemn expression on Enright's face told me I was hearing the truth.
I will never forget being told that I could be worlds better at soccer, if I had only spent less time on video games and more on my soccer technique. Dad, I know it probably hurts to read this, but it made me who I am today. It made me realize that it's foolish to set a goal and chase it using only one foot. Of course, I almost lost my scholarship at UTD before it really sank in, but still.
I remember Hunt (Aaron's dad) telling me I played perfectly after one match on Dr. Pink when I was captain my junior year. I floated on cloud nine for a while; it was the first time someone I wasn't related to but respected told me I had done a good job. It was kind of like making a 100 on a test, if you had been making 75s all your life. Besides, dad always said you're no good until somebody else notices and tells you that you're any good.
I will never forget killing the Fire. I had become a complete player, picking up first defense, then passing, then dribbling, and finally shooting. Dad even relegated our strikers to make room for the total player he created. Later though, he thought that rec soccer wasn't enough development, and it was time to try to move on to select teams. I remember the speech he gave once it was decided. It was a Fire after-season party at Manny's like we always do. It wasn't sad at the time, but looking back now, and realizing what kind of perfect organization we gave up (thanks mom) and what kind of determination we had (thanks dad) really kind of hurts. It's still the best thing that happened to me. I learned how to keep going when it seemed impossible, how to win graciously, how to lose and take it to the practice field and turn a loss into a win, how to operate in a strange situation (remember the Fire's strange tournament level of strength on sundays, when the mormons aren't there? We'd win a tournament then "lose." Ah well.) among many more. I don't think enough good things can be said. The only downside is that Troy wasn't able to experience something like it; maybe he does at GDYO. Hard to compare.
Me after years of training:
I have memories of Jimmy Harrison and Andromeda and the Strikers after both of those season and the unforgettable Jeremy Fripp, but somethings are best forgotten.
I remember busting my ass during the gap summer after high school graduation only to be let down by how UTD soccer was/is run.
I will never forget how close I was to tears when I told mom and dad about my decision to quit soccer, after coming so damn far. I will also never forget how relieved I was when you guys were totally cool with it. I still appreciate the support I get, even if it's for some silly indoor games. (We all know outdoor is the true game.)
This is getting -extra long-, so I'm going to finish it up.
Troy, I know this has next to nothing in it regarding you, but I was a total asshole to you growing up, and I'm still ashamed of it. I know I should have been a better example. Also, you ARE the Golden Child. You are EXPECTED to pass me. Growing up, I had only mom and dad to learn from, but you had me to learn from also. It doesn't upset me that you are going to pass me, in fact I'm welcoming it. I couldn't be more proud of you.
Dad, I'm glad you left to Thailand and came back. It seems to have given us the room to grow and understand each other from the distance we usually operate from, but come back together closer than ever as 2 parts of 1 family. I remember the countless mornings of sitting at the breakfast table, staring out the window, eating Toaster Strudels and not saying a word to each other until it was time for school. You were so quiet and introspective that I copied it seeking acceptance. Now we can talk to each other about just about anything, without any issue. This makes me really happy. Also, I'll never be too old or too grown up to receive your advice, so please don't stop giving it.
Mom, even though I mentioned you barely more than I mentioned Troy, this was really written for you. All through my childhood, I denied showing you who I was. You frequently showed interest in who I was, and I never allowed you in. Your goofy nature always had you laughing and smiling at something, and I was afraid that I would be made fun of for being just the way I was. I saw the kids that were made fun of at school, and I didn't want to be that kid at home, where I spent lots of my free time. You've seen glimpses of who I am when I (infrequently) share my thoughts when we hang out at IHOP, and now you have a decent sample of who I am as a person.
The final thing is a song from PSY! Seriously, it's not Gangnam Style, but a song titled "Father," even though it applies to mom and dad both. I think it's a good song. NOTE: The culture in Korea is still really focused on males and the father in the family, but I believe you both worked as hard as in this video to create what we have.
Have a good day! :D
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