You know what I hate? When I complain about a test being hard, people, including friends, just say that I can do it because I’m smart and then they move on to tell how much they lack in smartness. When I talk about a good grade I got, I get nasty looks and people just say that that’s what they expected anyways and they act like I’m trying to brag.
And that’s why I never complain to friends about schoolwork. The only people who will ever see my full-out stress mode over a test/assignment will be my family. And the only people I ever tell my grades to are my parents because, although they put on a lot of pressure for good grades, they understand that I’ve worked my butt off and that good grades don’t just come easy, I work hard for them.
Ranting because these past few days have been hell.
For a moment, I thought I could do anything and be anything. I thought the opportunities were limitless. And then I realized something. I’m a girl. On top of that, I’m Asian and the color of my skin is more important than my skills to many people. If that wasn’t enough, I’m a Muslim. And I proudly wear my hijab. Who would hire me? In the real world, appearances are very important and to some people, more important than passion for the job and skills.
For a moment there, I thought I could do anything.
Whenever I meet a new person, I try to figure them out. I listen to how they use their words, how they structure their sentences. I listen to what they say, what is important to them, what they find funny. I watch their body language, how they carry themselves, how they perceive other people or objects around them. I watch their faces, what kinds of expressions they use in different situations. And I’m not a very good judge of character/personality, but I’m working on it.
But people from another culture, another language, another country, they are so difficult to understand right away. And even after a month, when I think I’ve figured them out, they say or do something I completely don’t expect. Even though I understand the denotation of what they’re saying to me, I don’t get the connotation because I haven’t grown up in that culture. I can’t tell why they say something rather than something else. I can’t tell if they think something is genuinely funny or they’re just messing around with me. I can’t tell if they hold themselves the way they do just because that’s the way they are, or because they don’t like me. And that can get frustrating. Especially if you’re related by blood. Even though we look so physically similar, I still don’t know you.