Wishful Love & Analysis

Worry and fear cloud visions in my mind,
Assembling to keep dark secrets unsaid,
My conscience confused, distracted and blind,
By wavering thoughts spinning in my head.

Imagining my turn at love’s wheel of fun,
Dreams twirl with fantasies of what could be,
Holding hand in hand, together as one,
Illusions twisted in time as I see.

But clocks revolve on Mother Nature’s time,
Opportunities pass by with its hand,
Midnight approaches, his heart will be mine,
If not I’ll hide, feelings buried in sand.

With gentle music playing, here’s his chance,
Gazing at me, he asks for the last dance.

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Wishful love is a sonnet about the “game of love”. The game is first staged in the mindset of a girl, longing for her true love. Then, just as she is about to call it quits, the game’s setting shifts to a night at a dance; where she given her chance at love. This sonnet speaks of thoughts intertwining with emotions; transforming love into a battle between one’s heart and mind.

The first stanza introduces love as a distraction. Sometimes, we turn fearful and nervous when we are encountered by love because of the thought of getting heartbroken or rejected. Most times, we can’t think straight and our surroundings turn to a blur, just as “worry and fear cloud visions” in the girl’s mind. All of these emotions swirling inside ourselves, fear, worry, doubt, tend to build up and assemble a wall that blocks us from telling our darkest secrets and our true feelings. “My conscience confused, distracted, and blind, By wavering thoughts spinning in my mind.” There is so much going inside of the girl’s head that she is uncertain and feels helpless. Similarly, when it comes to love, people ponder thoughts in their head, trying to make logical decisions of what to do next, but can’t seem to come to a conclusion, making themselves more confused. Everyone has seen examples of how a person can be affected by love in our world today. Love is like a vaccine, where it can be very beneficial for a person's health, but can cause bad side-effects to occur. It can help someone feel complete as if finding the missing piece of their life’s puzzle or give someone the courage and support they need to go on in life, but there are instances in which lives had ran downhill after playing the game of love. Some end up feeling empty after breaking off from a long term relationship and undergo depression. Others come out scarred after entering what they thought was a loving relationship, but was actually an abusive relationship.

After looking at the obstacles of love’s game, the second stanza describes the image of an ideal perfect love. “Imagining my turn at love’s wheel of fun” These lines reveal the girl’s curiosity for love. Everyone has wondered about love because it is unique in all cases. Love can be seen in many different forms that sometimes can be unrecognizable. Dreaming of what love could be like depends on the mind and heart of the beholder. Love could be seen as a simple act of kindness, like comforting a friend after a terrible incidence occurred. In this case the girl is seeing love through dance. Holding hand in hand, swaying and moving together on the dance floor as one body and heart. Even though these dreams are just illusions created by her heart’s desires, she still has hope.

The flow of emotions in the sonnet suddenly changes in the first lines of the third stanza. “But clocks revolve on Mother Nature’s time, Opportunities pass by with its hand.” Now, she is examining her fantasies and dreams closer and begins to look at the 'dark side' of love. She realizes that she cannot sway the tide of love's game. Love is one aspect of life where we have no control over it, sometimes relationships are not meant to be and some are destined. Everything is set according to Mother Nature. As the clock’s hands pass by each second in time, opportunities at love fade, one after another. Time doesn’t stop just for one person nor does it reverse back to the past. “Midnight is near, he will be mine, If not I’ll hide, feelings buried in sand.” The end of the night is near, love is starting to slip from her, but even with time running out, she builds courage within herself to seize every chance at love she has left, or else her moment of love will become unachievable and her feelings will be hidden forever, as if buried in sand. Nothing is over in the game of love, unless you say, ‘Game over’.

Ironically the sonnet ends at a dance, just like the girl’s ideal perfect love. “With gentle music playing, here’s his chance." The gentle music playing in the background is signaling the readers that the dance is ending. With the dance's final song being played, this is the girl's chance at her dream of love. But the girl seems very uncertain and tense during these final moments at the dance. The girl says, here's his last chance, doesn't this line seem odd, why doesn't she say, here's my last chance. She does not want to take her chance at love and hopes he would be bold and seize the moment instead. This brings us back to the ideas in the first stanza of the sonnet, the feeling of unsteadiness. "Gazing at me," To end my sonnet, I wanted to build a bit of excitement in my readers and make them wonder for a moment in their minds about what will happen next. Will he ask her to dance? As the guy gazes into her eyes there is not telling of how this night will end. Eyes can tell others stories of how someone feels or hint someone's next action, such as teary eyes reflect someone's sorrow or happiness. But eyes can be misleading when love comes into play. Say for instance, you have been crushing on someone for quite some time and just by luck you end up passing your crush while walking down the stairs. When you are passing by each other, there is a moment where your eyes meet for more than a second. Just from a little moment like this, someone could be under the impression that he/she shares the same feelings with you. Though sometimes in actuality, moments where there was thought to be a connection, did not have one at all. "He asks for the last dance." Unexpectedly, her hopes and fantasies of love do come true as the boy reaches out of his comfort zone and asks her for the last dance. Sometimes dreams do come true and love becomes a reality. My final message I wanted to share with my readers is that, Love is not judgmental. It is a free-floating spirit that travels anywhere and arrives at anytime, regardless of people’s thoughts and feelings.

Bubble Face

This is my Heritage Paper... a story that reveals some of my family's values... hope u enjoy reading it!

“Hey Uncle Wally! How’s golf going?”
“Oh my gosh, is that you Uncle KK? You’ve gotten so handsome!”
I love our Kop family (mom-side) reunions! There is so much excitement; the latest gossips are spread, the newest family stories are told. It’s a great time for all of our families and relatives, from all over the states, to come together once every two years to catch up on old times. The one thing I always look forward to the most is talking story with my Popo (grandma). Before she moved last year to China, we were tight as knots. We cooked dumplings together, rode the bus together, and we even shopped together. Those were fun times back then, when I could just pick up a phone and talk to my popo anytime I wanted to. Now, our only communication outlet was the Kop family reunion.
“So, how’ve you been Popo? Is anything new?”
“I’ve been getting around. My back has been aching for a while now, so I can’t walk as much… it must be old age.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve still got plenty of healthy years ahead.”
“Ehh, you’re just trying to make me feel better. You know, ever since I moved away, I’ve started to recall past memories of my life here in Hawai’i. You and your mother looked so alike when you were a baby, same big bug-eyed face. I still remember flying up to Japan just to visit you when you were born. Whenever I tried to carry you, all you would do was cry, cry, cry. ‘Wah. Wah,’ I thought there was something wrong with you, but you were just hungry all the time. You had an appetite of a lion, always eating. By the age of 4, you would eat beef stew, cantaloupe, rice, cheerios… anything, really. Unlike your mom, she was a poor eater.”
“Really?”
“Yah. Your mom, she wouldn’t want to eat anything. I made her chow mein. No eat. I shredded duck into small bite size pieces for her. No touch. She would not consume anything on her plate unless it was something to her liking. Picky, picky, picky, that girl I tell you. All she did was waste food… you should never waste anything, especially if it’s still edible. Did I tell you that time when your mom would pretend to dine on her meals?”
“What? How’d she do that? You never told me that story.”
“I thought I did… maybe that was your dad. Anyways, during your mom’s ‘picky eater’ phase, I had to make her sit in her highchair until she finished off every last bit of food. She was getting so skinny, that I felt obligated to fatten her up! She would cry for hours. Meals turned into never-ending nightmares! Then, one night I decided to try a new recipe Fran gave me, Sweet sour pork chops with bitter melon. Oh, it was delicious! Everyone seemed to like it, even your mom. First she sniffed it. Then, after it got the scent seal of approval, she stuffed all of it into her mouth until it was all gone. That night, there was no screaming or yelling. But then we noticed sometime after dinner, two little bulges sticking out on the sides of your mom’s mouth. Her cheeks were kinda bloated like two tiny bubbles. So, your Kung Kung (grandpa) and I induced her to open up her mouth to check what was being concealed, and guess what we found? Snuggly hiding inside of her cheek was her dinner, all smushed up and blanketed in her saliva.”
“Ewww… that’s so gross! What did you guys do next?”
“We pried out that pork from her mouth with a fork, of course. She refused to chew it down! Stubborn child… and then a week later, she decided to stuff her cheeks again, but this time with broccoli. Uhuh… that girl gave me a headache. She even wen spit out all of the broccoli pieces from her mouth and onto the carpet. I was ready to give her one licken with the fly swatter, but then, out of no where, she began to pound on her chest rapidly, like one ape in the jungle. I thought she was just acting up, but after a few seconds, she began to let out dry gasps of air from her lips. That dummy, she made herself choke on broccoli! So, instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her chest from her back side, made my right hand into a fist, and started to pound my hands against her chest. I was eventually able to get her to cough up that piece of broccoli, but what a workout! I’m not joking… I was sweaten like one pig, just trying to get that sucka out of her throat.”
“Wow! No wonder my mom never cooks broccoli.”
“Hoh, after that instance, your mother never played with her food again and when I told her to eat, she ate, just like one good girl should. But I tell you. Before, she would hold food in her mouth for hours, until Kung Kung and I made her spit it out. Something was seriously wrong with that child, I tell you.”

I could never understand why my mom was so hardheaded about us finishing our meals at dinnertime, or why she would always seem irked whenever we didn’t eat what was given to us. But after hearing my Popo’s story, I finally realized why. My mom grew up in an environment where no food was wasted. Food was money. You weren’t allowed to fuss; you had to just eat what you were given or else starve. It never occurred to me how lucky I was to be given such a great mom that cooked all of my favorite kinds of food. Now, whenever my mom says, “Don’t play with your food,” or, “Make sure to chew all of your food before swallowing,” I’ll make sure to do as she says, or else the same ‘bachie’ incident may happen to me too.

English

What is your greatest fear (in life)?