Chantilly cake bitter taste

My physics professor once said to have the variables in our favor. That's about all I recall from my AP physics class. Actually, I think I was a teacher's assistant? Most of the other students were way smarter than me, and I would sit in the corner pretending that I understood the class. Yet, to this day, I remember to keep the variables in my favor.

Another class I completely bombed was College Physics. This class made me cry every other week. Newton's laws my ass, hell I could not remember any laws, and the only factor I could recall when solving a problem was the acceleration of gravity. Nevertheless, my physics professor in college would always say, make your life simple. He probably wasn't trying to inspire anybody in the room, but my overanalyzing mind never forgot that quote. Overcomplicating my life is a talent of mine. Want an overcomplicated life? I'm your person. Even though College Physics was an extremely hard class, I did pass! And I often think about becoming a physicist, but it seems nearly impossible. My brain capacity does not comprehend science as it comprehends art.

Philosophy, art, humanities, dance, writing, I can get creative. But science has been way too logical and rational for me.

In science class my mind does not expand like it does in an art class, it instead sits there trying to comprehend with a big question mark floating above my head. I think this is because I am trying to comprehend through the lens of an artist. For instance if the problem is asking about the height of a person, I would consider is her hair done? is she wearing heels? Surprisingly math is an easy task for me, I can deal with numbers, whether it is geometry, algebra, calculus, I got you. But chemistry, physics? Yeah forget it.

Oftentimes, I struggle to communicate how something feels through words. This is not because I am limited with my vocabulary, but the frustration comes with how limiting language can be. Language has become so logical and objective. Conveying a message should be a form of expression. Isn't expression boundless? For instance, when you are extremely angry, you don't innately think let me find the words to express my anger, right? Instead, you growl, punch something, or even cry. By language, I am referring to an idiom, a tongue. As an artist, my mission is to discover mediums of expression, and I would love to facilitate my resources with science, but I haven't found the silver lining.

Conscience. Big supporter of this matter.

I am finishing a fiction book that talks about suicide, Buddhism, ijime, and crows. Towards the end of the book, I got emotional because one of the characters was writing about... My interpretation was that being good in this world won't stop the evil that exists. It is very sad. This realization made me think how, as an artist, we are slowly dying. Art is dying in this world, and it is a very scary thing.

I felt extremely empathetic towards the characters in the book. I imagined if one of my closest cousins were sent to war where they would be beaten, abused, tortured, how totalitarianism and capitalism are consuming us, and there's nothing an artist can do to change this. There's no hope. I've come to terms with being seen as the crazy, hysterical girl who says nonsense and isn't understood. For the longest time, I thought that as humans we are able to understand one another since we are the same species, but it turns out, I have been seen as a fool anytime I felt inspired enough to say or give my point of view.

As an immigrant, I come from a household where everything we had, we worked really hard for. Living a fast-paced life, where every day we had to hustle, knowing that working hard doesn't guarantee wealth.

Speaking of working, my math teacher from high school would always say work harder, not smarter. Probably was not trying to inspire the class, but isn't it funny that all my math and science professors are constantly reminding their students to find shortcuts?

Anyway, every bill had to be paid. My family and I never received any form of supplemental aid like food stamps or Medicare. I felt embarrassed when I invited friends or a boyfriend over because we didn't meet the standard American life. I loved having friends over, but they had to be REAL friends who wouldn't judge my living situation. Granted, I'm not victimizing myself by saying oh poor me, but I could see the stark contrast between my American friends' lives and mine.

When bills were due and we happened to be short, I think between me and my mom, I would stress the f out. My mom, not so much, might be because of her age and her lifestyle. She would always tell me: money comes and money goes, Ambar. When I had no choice but to relax and pray that everything will be okay, things would end up being okay. Then I realized, money does come and go, so why am I shortening my lifespan stressing about paper bills and numbers? When we were short on rent, my mom would still carelessly buy herself a Chantilly cake with fresh berries and a bottle of wine. Looking at that cake, I always wanted to smash it and throw away the bottle of wine. There was no sense of urgency on her end, and it drove me crazy. I never let my rage win, but I often complain how is this cake and wine more important than paying rent on time. Since I was already mad, my complaints translated into noise, and I would be ignored. There was nothing else I could do but to shut up and eat the cake. Because at the end of the day, money comes and goes, right?