First Year of College Essay

Rabecca Rocha

Writing 101
Essay 1

I heard their voices that night, the both of them like angry chickens pecking at one another, a ruffle of sheets like that of feathers angry shouting and flustered tones. My Father's voice rumbled distinctively like a cumulus cloud building, electrodes gathering and ready to strike. The irritation in the voice of my mother only kept me situated behind the door, my ear pressed to it aching to know what was wrong. I couldn't fathom the thought of them being so angry at one another. I held my pillow in hopes that this in fact was a nightmare however I would soon find out that I was living in it. All the anxiety and tension in the house would eventually turn between me and my own mother. 

In another instance the door for their bedroom swung open and my Father’s heavy foot steps creaked across the carpet floor. The front door slammed and I knew from then on this would only set the stage for the events that were about to unfold during the oncoming years. Nothing could explain the tension in that tiny blue house but it only seemed to accumulate with time. During their arguments I had done my best to protect my brother by turning the TV up, taking him to the park and anywhere but home. It only began from there soon after I began to try to find something that might repair what was left of my parent’s marriage.

I didn’t realize how soon my mother’s problems would then be focused on me. I was the Daddy’s girl and I had become the blame. So from then on I would attempt to do everything I could to make sure that we would find peace in our little home. This had been more complicated then I had initially interpreted it to be, for that year my father had been taken to the hospital due to kidney failure. My grandmother had to work to pay the bills, as did my mother however Being that my mother was gone numerous amounts of times this was no easy task, so I was given the duty of watching over my 10 year old autistic brother. At that time I didn't know how to cook so I had to try to make up ways in order to be able to feed my brother and myself. Sometimes if my Mother did come home with food she'd only feed me and not my little brother and tell me not to tell “snitch.” And by snitching she meant telling my grandmother. This amount of guilt on continued yet I kept this secret to myself.

That Christmas was a lonely little one, without daddy who would cheer us on?

My father had always took it upon himself to give us joy filled, warm holidays. Yet the following year was empty and Gray, without Dad who would cook the excellent Christmas meals, but the cook? Who would carry on the legacy of Santa Claus and hopes and dreams, without Dad nothing seemed possible, but the growing void that he wasn't home. The more that I missed my father the greater the gap between my mother and I grew.

In the months following My Fathers hospitalization and my Mother’s frequent disappearances, the computer became my only outlet and since I was hardly allowed to go out due to my brother I’d seek out some ways to communicate with the “outside world.”  I engaged myself in conversations with people I had never met, talked to people I’d normally be to shy to talk to and in that saving grace I had made human contact. During that year my imagination had found me and I took those hours of solitude to improve my art. My mother’s presence became less and less significant, I had gone from hearing arguments all night to complete silence. I felt as though she had turned her back on me. Lately in the night she would stow away to somewhere else, to clubs and friends who were twice her senior. While I stayed at home and struggled to keep my brother and I fed, bathed and put to sleep. However, long into the night when I could hear the door creaking open slightly in the living room  I found myself wishing so badly for her and overwhelming sense that I was the one who had to make her love me. I had to make things better in the house and by the Daddy would come home everything would be fine, they would make up and we’d be like every other family. I showed her that source that I had found clear on my own that source being the internet. We had AOL at the time and chartrooms, email and buddy lists were quite abundant. I figured since I was teaching her something we would bond. We'd bond over a mutual understanding of needing a get away from everything that was going on. However she became much more interested in it then I, and we began to fight over time. Time on the computer, time spent wasted when we could have been really bonding as mother and daughter. She soon began to talk on a community of her own; her disappearances became longer and longer. So much so that my grandmother began to take notice.

            Meanwhile, my father was beginning to get better. My mother spoke of him often and yet I don’t ever recall her visiting him as much as my aunt and my grandmother had. Much like a child who had been caught eating chocolate my mother denied everything, she had claimed hurtful things against my grandmother to point the blame elsewhere. Regrettably my grandmother had backed off and my mother continued on her path to what she might have considered freedom, freedom from her spouse on the verge of death, the burden of children and the guilt of credit card spending. Her indulgence cradled her into denial all in front of watchful twelve year old eyes. 

As for my father I was not allowed to see him, with tubes hanging from tiny metal poles and his eyes swollen from the medicine. I was guarded from the reality of what his pain truly was. As I had heard of his possible arrival I sought out some sort of truce with my mother. I would teach her how to use the computer faster and she would make amends. I sat in front of her begging for her to make better with us, to be a family again. I sat  in front of her dreaming of barbeques and loving families, two families that wouldn't part but instead make amends. I wished so hard that would make right, since my doing wasn't enough; why wasn't I the daughter she had wanted?  I only wished my mother would turn away from the computer and hold her for just one second to make everything go away. My throat became so dry and all my usual sensitivity to sound and the brilliant sun showing through the window had ceased. A tiny piece of me had begun to die, my grades began to deplete to nothing and I questioned myself. I failed the seventh grade; a grade that should have been easy for some, had become a daily battle for me. I wearily began make friends; however I never invited them home, never called them. They saw me and yet never knew of the constant war that I saw at home. The anger inside me rose and I couldn't quite contain myself as I stood behind my mother. Finally one night I gathered the courage to go up to her my fists, balled at my side. I asked her “Mommy where are you going?”
Imagining my hands wrapped around her neck, imagining something that would take her attention away from the computer and away from us. She stood at the pane of the door, hoping no one else would see her leave, but I did. I always knew. Sometimes I worried she would never think to come back. In an emotionless tone she replied. “Out...”

 "Mom you need to listen to me this has to stop... you have to make everything better...”
The tiny clicking on the desk top was all that I heard aside from a slight huff. She seemed exasperated with my presence and turned her head towards me. I leaned back against the kitchen counter, my face hidden slightly by the dim light and my eyes heavy with tears. Her face screwed up in confusion as to whether to comfort or dismiss her daughter. In those seconds she chose the latter and as equally as apathetic as I was worried, she replied.
"What’s wrong with you?"
My heart jolted slightly and I crawled towards her.

"Please don’t go we all can fix this just say you're sorry." A slight grunt from her tilted head, I stared at her hoping for some sign of life, some kind of acknowledgement of my presence but she only sat there, one foot carefully placed under her thigh and her eyes fixated on the screen, so much so that she was hung over her mouth gaping at the screen before her. I had expected things to be different, I knew they would change but never did I suspect they would fall so fast that my very being would be dismissed by the woman who gave me life. In that moment I had become truly and undeniably self conscience. My world had died and she had been the guillotine. For a long time the walls that I had built up remained, in the year that followed my Father came home and I confessed, I confessed everything that had occurred and despite counseling, she was kicked out. Inwardly I struggled with the awkward teen years without my mother. I couldn’t get quite past figuring out what in fact had been wrong with me? My father got better and despite the fact that my family experiences would never again be the same. I am okay.

Macaroni and Rib Eye.

My anxiety is over whelming today.
I can see the laundry piling up, the bed slightly disheveled and I can feel my heart race thinking about the fact that I am graduating in a couple of quarters.

I feel incredibly out of my own league.
I'm scared if I dont start drawing now I am going to forget everything.

Truth is.

I did want to kiss you but it wouldn't make things better.
It would of worsened it by a ton, I have immense foresight now. Being able to see tragedies, being able to avoid conflict and most of all allowing other people but myself to be human.

There is nothing wrong with pining, i do a bit of if myself but it hasn't gotten me anywhere to go back to what is comfortable.

First time shame on you.
Second time shame on me.
Third time? I cannot allow you in, I hope you can respect that.

You do, it kills me but your fingers wont be touching mine anytime soon and  I am okay letting you go.
You deserve to fly.

Desert.

"You deserve better" She smiled at me, one of the most beautiful girls I know and I shied away from her warmth.Clearing my throat I nodded my head like I knew, like I totally kne-- I had no fucking clue.
I had no clue that I did because I dont know if I did and If I tried to explain I did we would be in a whole mess of my selfish insecurities.

She is beautiful and in that moment she saw me for what I was and to another person this might seem silly but I cloaked my pride for a moment and held onto myself wondering what can I do to show her that I appreciate her compliment and yet hate myself all at once?

I'm not a tortured soul, I don't claim myself to be but sitting here at 1 am yet again not knowing quite how to take a compliment, well girly. This might just be it.

I ran my fingers through my hair when we passed by a cute man on howell street, his eyes averted back to the friend he was speaking with and I had to laugh at a joke that my friends told behind me.

Eyes forward, hips rotating to the motion of my footing and in that moment I felt bad ass.
fingers through hair again I brave 60 degree weather in a dress and a wrap hoping to God I wont get sick.

Most importantly were my insecure hands, fiddling with the bangles on my arms and praying to some light that they wouldn't stare and see. They would be able to only make out the color of my dress and not the warm cheeks that threatened to show when the lights were brought back up.

We walked, trees on the pavement fallen like autumn. Her shoes clicked softly and we swayed to the beat of conversations that can only escalate to the stars.

"You really need to stop doing this to yourself.." She said with concern in her voice, her eyes honest and I listened. Not because I couldn't help myself but because for whatever reason she saw the beauty in me.

Night Owl.

I feel like im 14 again.
I'm sitting here in my underwear watching crazy things online and writing a blog. Bethany pointed out how long its been since i've written poetry or fanfiction. She's too right. I dont know what the relevance of this might be but I wonder how many people can reflect, openly without letting it become a 160 character limit on a social media site.

Lately i've been finding myself overly sensitive to meaningless things that are pushed at me online, there are times yes. I am tempted to delete it. Get rid of my cell phone and start fresh.

However, that would only be pushing away things I dont like. If you never confront what irks you how are you going to deal with it in the later times?

Nights here in Belltown are quiet aside from the stomping above. People arriving home from work, at first it was irritating but now theres a comfort in knowing that more people have a home.

So from there I can breathe and relax into my vegetative Hulu state.
I'm done with finals and I just might stretch my wings into the artistic-for-the-sake-of-joy realm.

Toxic Relationships I have to listen to and how to be poor.

I have a headache.

No, its not because of the lack of caffeine I actually have a decent cup of iced coffee that I made from the nights previous but from the obscure amount of fighting going on just a flight above. As with all passive aggressive Seattlites i've taken part to vaguebooking about the situation and making the slight clucking noise with my tongue to ensure the rest of my empty apartment just how annoyed I truly am.

Thus accomplishing nothing.
What kind of right would I have to go up there myself and let them have it? Hand them a pamphlet for couples counseling and kindly shut the door in their faces. I obviously dont know the situation, however unfortunately this lovely couple and their friends, one of them with im sure is named "Bryan" has made it their duty to let everyone  know that they are indeed in a lovers squabble.

I remember those fights, I remember those fights because they would seemingly go on forever and this one went on from 6pm to 2 in the morning where I was tossing and turning trying to dream of sweet things when her piercing cry came through the window. Sniffling and being comforted by a woman she told her how "unfair" he was being and how fucked up the situation was.

I feel like a shitty investigative reporter who is giving an analysis based on a radio show she heard.

I am on two uneven planes, one wanting to risk the pummeling of a probable fist by simply crying out "Shut the fuck up." and the other wanting to knock on their door or leave a note.

This is a funky situation that no one would give two thoughts about in New York. Oh, passivity.

If anything these past couple of days have taught me to be patient with the mornings and more so with my evenings.

I've been taking to making fresh coffee and storing it in the fridge. For making cake and saving it over a course of a week so i have something sweet without spending much more money. For buying food that sustains me and listening to the way the rain sounds when it hits the floor immediately adjacent to my window. I can appreciate the laughter that comes with greeting K.P with a iced coffee and hugging bethany after not seeing her for a while.

I have had to give myself a silent mantra of enjoying my single life instead of wishing I were in something I am not, of thanking the stars that I'm not stuck in a rut relationship where all I want to see is an exit sign.

Maybe I have dillusions of grandeur like Jarrett said.
Or maybe im just in self preservation mode but for the moment its quieter.

I would rather be here, happy, quiet and silently tapping on my keyboard then thinking that its better to be in a toxic relationship.

Isn't she lucky?

I remembered the day as clear as yesterday.

I remember standing at the airport with my father and my Aunt Jackie, sobbing and him clinging onto my rolley luggage for dear life.

I was being kicked out of my home and he was crying harder than I was.
Off and on the plane ride I kept wiping my tears.

I was moving to Pennsylvania for God knows how long with my Aunt.
I was going to learn to manage on my own (kinda.) and grow the fuck up.
I was getting kicked out of my fathers house because my step mother verbally abused me and my step cousin liked to steal my thongs.

I had a fleeting thought yesterday as I was reading over facebook about deleting this, about deleting my blogspot. Who would want to see what I would have to say ?

I could delete myself but I cant cut my life short, my words short because a handful of people don't like every word that comes out of my mouth.

That is life. You deal. You cry, you write a blog and flip off the past.
You learn from it, you cry some more and drink too many cups of coffee with girlfriends who watch your eyes glisten from happy tears.

In the airport I had to say goodbye to alot of things i never realized I would have to gain on my own, a home, people I could rely on and a new life.

I'm grateful that at least I could move on but it always occurs to me how close I came to being homeless.
I dont ever forget that and I try not to think about it as much but I guess tonight as I was sitting around with my girlfriends at a coffee shop I realized how far I still have to go.

A reprise.

We are the lost children
religion peddle into our simple hearts and our lips sealed with christ's wine.
We taste his skin on our tongue and we swallow sin like guilt
fear me;
fear him;
fear this and most of all fear sin because if you conquer anything it must be bad
and if you learn from anything its that if its that
you spent most of your life living for someone else
selflessness isn't nearly as good as everlasting life in the eyes of a man you never met.

Well that you knew anything about.
I've seen movies with confused children like me
gasping for a pull away from this hypocrisy
peace makers trot and want to hide
the people who want to hurt us tend to thrive
when they see that our hopes are beginning to die
pulling each other up is no longer the christian way
Regardless of evidence you need to obey

obey like a dog.
like ignorance.
like taking a new brand.
I've studied this bull shit for five years and i still dont understand.
man is imperfect.
yet he made the bible.
God is perfect.
but yet this is a shred of what he could of shown us.

If God made us in his image.
why can we be so ugly?
If God is indeed still with us.
Would he be upset?
To see his children so confused.

Two F4 Tornados

I Could see them heading towards the building I was residing in. Two giant Tornados in my dream were hurdling towards me and over the winds I was screaming for everyone to get underground.

When i first started this blogpost im sure that I had a reasoning behind it.
Ah yes, the tumultuous wait. I'm waiting on a call, a call for approval so that I may put down  a 300 deposite to move into my new apartment on first and bell.

Oh please fate.
do not decieve me.

En el momento

Have you ever felt the wind graze your face when your zoning in and out of your own thoughts, homework and coffee? Has it ever momentarily bothered you that nothing is going wrong in that particular moment and you can just enjoy being in your own skin?

I'm prompted now to say something thoughtful or whimsical but nothing comes to mind. The 76 degree weather has gone to my head and the romantic in me wants to see lovers strolling down melrose ave happily and enfolded in one anothers arms.Typically I'm one to shut the blinds and enjoy the cool insides of my highrise but for today I am me.



Drip coffee with vanilla and too many thoughts to burn before i have to face two assignments that are due at noon tomorrow. My lips are dry from the walk up here but I am happy still at being able to type out for once in a couple of weeks whats going on with me.

I cant for the life of me actually say whats going on, She doesn't want anyone to know and I dont blame her. I'll keep her secret as long as I can. I keep having fleeting thoughts of running into my step mother hoping to God that if I do, in fact see her I'll resist the carnal urge to fight or flight.


Fight.
Screams the inner Id but I wont pay her any mind.
She's been kind of a bitch this week.

I'll keep her at bay while the sun hovers up ahead, telling my neck to sweat and my knees to work a bit harder to get up this massive hill.

Capitol Hill is at peace and I'm still here, sipping my coffee and watching people go by.

I'm not supposed to tell you

I dont think i'd know where else to put this;

I love using big words and typically vocabulary quizzes were my favorite things to do in highschool.
I think i'm becoming exceedingly lame with age.
I've lived most of my life in front of a computer.
That whole thing that happened at fifteen will haunt me for the rest of my life.
I have no idea where my mother is.
Lists keep me sane even if im unorganized.
I speak two languages.
I dance really well.
Grammatically there are definitely things I need to work on.
I've written fanfiction for years.
( I actually have quite the following.)

My hair is never EVER behaving. It usually reflects how I feel.
I still want kids.. I dont care if I get married. I want a little girl and a little boy. This may or may not happen depending if I ever get myself to crack open to another human being..

that whole one night stand thing isn't really something I do. Ever. at all.

Choices.

I think i've resolved the age long question of how one person keeps themselves in a rut.
People around you have interesting ways of making you spend money or making you feel bad when you dont have enough.


For some reason this font seem kinds of noodly to me but for today we'll go with it.
I am sitting here on the eve of my last day of summer itching to create and not knowing where to start, so as usual I'll start with random ramblings on the internet in sweet hopes that something will rise from the lazy ashes and like a phoenix i'll have something worth doing. who knows?


As far as fitness is concerned i've fallen off the wagon. However, on the upside i've been eating better than i have in years. I dont know.. it's disheartening to walk 40 minutes to the gym it might be a more ridiculous endeavour when I move to northgate.


That's right. The gavel has been placed and I suppose I dont feel all put together about it. I didn't have much of a choice being that my landlord has nixxed pets in the apartment all together and I wanted to stay in place that wouldn't charge me 800+ per rent.


In a month I will be packing my life here of 3 years and moving out and it scares the hell out of me. I have been able to sleep well but my dreams quickly become nightmares.


I learned not to long ago that when my Dog ran away from my stepmothers house that my father didn't bail him out of dog jail. He left Simon there.. to rot.
--Agh! this blog doesn't want to be written. Anyhow, I had this dream of a news broadcast stating that dogs had been founded buried underneath cobble stone next to Bridget's old house. 


Even my dreams dont want to forget how much I miss that Dog. 
I keep having unsettling nightmares and my body clock is wired to 8am.


I dont really know where to begin there but either way-- its unsettling that i never pictured moving out of this apartment so soon, nor was it intentional.


Balls.

Trip.

Lani's earbuds thumped loudly. Apparently the rest of the workers in the office thought she was a hoot and couldn't care less what type of obnoxious britney spears song she was playing so long as it got her several thousand  more bloggers.
 Her blog of choice? Mostly relationships and places to eat. People seemed to dig a more personable response to new restaurants then blipping through another yelp page. People needed that in this city and in some way, they needed her. Her finger tips grazed the keyboard, her word pad open she sneared at the cheap microsoft package her job had given her. She couldn't help but wonder why she had all of sudden been so easily distracted?
She kept skimming webpage to webpage. Apparently there was a huge dance party coming into town for one night. Anyone who was anyone was to  be there flaunting there love of glow in the dark outfits and dancing their cares away.

Georgina, her best friend and colleague peaked over into her cubicle grinning.
"You should take a break."
"Why?" Lani mumbled, stuffing another bbq pork slice into her mouth.
"Because.. my darling dearest." Georgina shimmied happily towards her, spinning Lani in her chair to face her friend. Lani took a moment to admire Georgina's newly relaxed hair, her brown skin newly and glistening from her trip to Jamaica.
"I have two ..fabulous tickets to that little dance party that you're admiring on your webpage and you KNOW you wanna go."
Lani couldn't help but grin ear to ear.
Opportunities dont last long.. She absent mindedly shook Georgina's hand and they left the building promptly for their lunch.

You're timeless to me.

Seattle is hot as hell today and last night.

You're almost afraid to take your shoes off coming home from wherever you 've been because of the wetness you feel on your arches and the sudden uncomfortableness of any type of shoe with laces.

Needless to say i've grown a rather large appreciation for beautiful men who ride around shirtless, the men who throw basketballs with gusto as they pose while they miss the baskets. I love the bicycle polo players and the laughter of children that giggle through the air. They're all so damn happy and this is why I love living here.

When the weather is nice then so are the people...okay, that might just be a slight exaggeration but i've been waiting ages to say "GOD ITS HOT" and wafting my hands by my face. I've been waiting even longer for my skin to brown and my heart to race. 

Oh Summer. I love you.

I may be broke but the greenness of the trees and the smiles on peoples faces when they bite into molly moon's ice cream for the first time is well worth the wait.

You're being ridiculous.

I've been fighting sleep since i could remember

rolling on my side from june to december

babbling words from my lips from the careful snares of parents

young parents who guided me through awkward bathroom stalls

to help me find my barrings

I'm searching the night sky for answers with 2 degree weather in a december didn't lead to a proposal

I'm searching inwardly for the strength to guard myself from attack

from friends

life long friends that concern me with remarks as rude as the sudden awakening of the sun after a long nights worth of drinking

I cower before the arch of a beautiful walk way and bite my lip in front of lips wet with alcohol and eyes green with curiosity.

You wait to see my voice waver in front of you stumbling to say the RIGHT THING at the RIGHT TIME.

eyes lock for a moment and i swear you can see how much of an idiot I am being--

over analyzing the very words that get me in trouble.

She talks to much, said a homeless man and they just laughed.

 I didnt.

I asked for my money back and tried not to be bitter.

because the last thing a fat girl needs is to be bitter.

to take to heart that not everyone in the world likes her and they have to find some valid reason to express that every day of her existence.

Where did this world go after proving once and for all that even super man had weaknesses.

where nurturing mothers turned into co-dependent drug addicts and moving on meant into another man's bed?

Is this the route i've meant to follow--

because if this is the case its a bit hard to swallow.

that im a little early for love and a little late for sappy shit and I keep having to do round abouts in this deserted love cul de sac.

Irony grips me by the throat when healthy relationships are an urban myth and dysfunction rises above all to claim wedding dresses faster than my escaped breath.

I am a rambler.

a writer rambler with words that seem less important as my voice becomes more shrill, anxious to let out words no one will hear.

So there i stand, pausing in between quatrains and wondering when she'll come back. such vigor, such color of a girl who once didn't feel so lost and now suddenly is trapped between the means and the aftermath.

Chapter 1 : Lost

*This is a rough.
Overview: Lani Analyse Michel is an accomplished blogger in Seattle, however because of her success she is beginning to lose herself in her work.

Lani sat in her office, her lavish little office decorated in congratulatory flowers and bath scented things. She had not been this praised in a while and due to her 100,000 viewer success of a blog she was able to rejoice with a tiny cup of wine and a new CD to boot.
Who bought CD's anyway? She mused. She felt irked, empty almost and as she sipped her bouschie wine and contemplated newer arrivals of things to blog about she could not shake a certain feeling. A certain void, something was seriously irritating her and she couldn't put her finger on what.


The next day as her brand new computer came in she signed the release, thanked the UPS guy and slipped it into her living room. Pursing her lips, she curled her fists on to her hips and leaned on her left leg. God! she hissed and picked up her cell phone to check it for the millionth time. Nothing, not even a text. Irritated she threw it on the couch and sat on the floor to rip open the packaging to hack at her new baby. 


Days slipped by--with cup of noodles in her hand, invitations she had never R.S.V.P'd to and friends she had not seen,She felt herself slipping. Things that normally she felt excited about seemed to drift off into a place where she seemed to completely forget where she was, the thunk of keys from the keyboard were her comfort for the week when her phone buzzed. 


"Yeah?" She blurted, her fingers poking irritably at the so-called touch screen that refused to obey. 


"This is an attempt to collect a debt.." came a monotoned voice.


Lani sighed, disconnecting the call and turning back to her work.Her fingers stopped, she pushed herself away from the chair, ran her fingers through her ear lengthed hair and sat up.
Today she'd get out of the damn house. 
damnit. 


"Where are you?" a calamity of text messages, popping up one after another as she entered her local grocery store. Seemed to be that she simply had no reception at her home, so she admirably flipped open her phone scootching the cart lazily down the dairy aisle right into a young man, her age, auburn hair and brilliant blue eyes. She gasped and apologized profusely, her card causing a jolt to his normal shopping day and nearly knocking the wind out of him. 
"Yeah its alright.." he furrowed his brow at her apologies and gently brushing her off so that he could gather his belongings that had fallen.

She gulped, her heart pounding as she helplessly clutched her phone and purse and scooted away. Embarrassed by her actions of the ridiculously beautiful man she paused at the end of an aisle. Biting her lips she watched as he was checked out, slipping open his armani wallet to purchase his groceries.

"Wow.." she said softly to herself, leaning against the cart so heavily that it screeched loudly as it swerved from her weight. Half the aisle turned to stare as she quickly made her way into another aisle. 

One upper.

In every class there is always a select group of people that have to make their situation seem far more dire than the person sitting next to them.

In their eyes they are the martyrs of art, sacrificing hours of sleep, food and money in order to provide--oh wait! Shit everything went to waste. All is wrong with the world and the Gods are set up against you solely to provide you weeks worth of nothing because your computer became downtrot. Sobbing and tears ensue and the entire blooming class has to here it.


Welcome to my advanced materials and lighting class. I've been fortunate and smarter enough that when I would be at work or not at home my computer would be rendering non-stop. My computer was on, miserable and rendering for three straight days. (Poor thing.)

I wish I could say that I am done but I'm not. Currently at the school watching digital paint dry with a fellow groupmate who was patient enough to re-take the scene re-vise it and make it so that the renders are just as good in half the time. I am in awe, he was a trooper and we're revising this so that we can pass this damn class. (if the Computer Gods let us.)

Today was a weird day. I keep having these out of body experiences where I dont quite focus on what it feels like to be in my body, except the fatigue. The exhaustion my body is holding to despite a two hour nap. In the last two days I have had 8 hours of sleep,if you heard it in my voice you would most likely notice how rehearsed I sound. My chapped lips and my crackly voice symbolizing that in a few years time I just might resemble Gollum, eh well .We had a good run didn't we looks?

Alas, Seattle has been accomodating. The weather is cold and grey in the middle of june and I sort of like it. At least no one else is having a ton of fun while I'm choking and coughing up finals like the black plague.

After today no stress, all my homework will have been turned in and I will be a happy camper.

Let's get some fuckin french toast!

Ride.

Life doesn't stop for Finals.
Friends dont stop grabbing for your hand, smiles on their beautiful faces begging you to come out and enjoy the sunshine.

I cant help but reach out and then pull back knowing I have other obligations that involve sitting in a computer lab and being far to intimate with a keyboard rather than I'd let a lover.

It's almost over.
My mind races with thoughts of compositing while i'm sitting here paralyzed by the lack of a power cord for my computer  (i'm at work using theirs..) and the all to prevalent realization that I'm once again here til midnight. Fidgetting, readjusting my sitting position and staring out the window like a lost puppy.

I stretch out my legs, dancing for no one and humming songs that are suddenly quieted by passerbys. God FORBID they hear a note escape my mostly mute lips.

Whatever. In literally a day i'll be done with school and have to show up on friday, look pretty and high five my group mates for working their asses off to make a 22 minute presentation. Shivering in our nice garb and praying to God that the thing is over with as soon as humanly possible.

Life is funny that way.
People dont stop leaving.
They expect you to stay however.

I guess I can be okay with that for now.

For my ancestors

There's a tribe that believes that the better you feast and live your life the better your ancestors will see how far you've come. You celebrate the dead by enjoying your life.

Last night I came home to my two roommates who had laid out an entire indian dinner, chicken curry, naan bread, garlic hummus and lit candles. They created a card for me that had all my favorite celebrity crushes. They took the time to cut out "Happy birthday" signs with streamers place them just before you enter the kitchen.

Every year I never quite expect anything for my birthday. Every year im surprised with the amount of love that I get from my peers, my friends, my family and my friends who I consider family.

They dont know that simply by being there they're showing me how much they care about me. They dont realize that after coming out of house after house with family tribs. After arguing my way to find a home that they've given me a home outside of my own immediate family.

I am grateful. Spoiled. Happy. Fat and rich.
I am also broke, stubborn, loud and voluptous.



I couldn't be happier.

Katie Girl.

Hubble cars never peaked their interest in a land where airships whizzed by.
Shalla wiggled her toes, settling next to the nook around her window. Perfect for people watching and curling up in her billowy dress as the next set of tourists flew by.
Her hair, toppled with curls was strapped by a single thread of ribbon, feathers bombarded a tiny hat that flowered beaded silver. She was certainly a sight to be seen. Shalla, now 21 stretched out her freshly tanned ankles and stretched out in the sun like a cat. Her corset taut as ever made her back slightly itchy from the mesh of cloth and lace.

An asian man, beautiful skin and emerald tweed suit smiled at her but she bashfully shook her head.
Outside her window was a world of imagineering. Robots cranked and motorized to behave like humans. They too, were powered by water, cogs and steel. Bubbling happy along with their work, unencumbered by human emotions they too did their part in building the 8 mile high city.  Bombarded by clocks, Valencia and Victorian Clothes. She was enamored with it. The lot of it.

Gypsies littered the streets below with venomous laughs, claps and tamborine sizzle. Their hearts soared every full moon with spirits, flowing skirts and flirtatious smiles. It was utterly addicting and Shalla felt herself wanting to leave her tower more and more.
Find herself amongst feathered men with pocket watches and ask them how exactly it is that they charm with a smile.
She picked up a trinket toy with her foot bringing it to her hands and winding the tiny little music box.
It chimed merrily for her as she passed it from palm to palm.

She sang along her lips molding into a soft smile thinking of ..

find me in the garden my dear,my dear
ne'ever should a word be spoken from here
in the garden once light hits the water at night
i'll find you there if not now then tonight


She brushed the toy to her lips, her eyelids getting heavy and finally slumping to the floor, her hand falling softly onto the pillows that were scattered around her.

a soft thump,thump, thump rolled across the ceiling above her but she did not stir.
The Gypsies giggled to themselves as they walked across tight rope to find the princess of the goons.
Goons, they called them. Idiots who lived in high rises and considered themselves above the fun.
They never once wondered about the Nouveaux court of miracles, The tamborines or the loud horn music.fools.

Nor she did expect the most charming of them to find her, to watch her sleep within her cocoon of pillows. She looked like a princess.

Shalla Ideole Jarrah.
She was the only child of a wealthy game exhibitor. His love for wild geese and shot guns protected his daughter from the chance of truly ever being in a romance. It had been rumored all of her lovers were murdered at gun point. Shot straight through the forehead.

No mercy musket heads. 




The next night.
After sun fall there was a secret circus. A freak show of sorts showing off the best of the best, sword swallowers, fortune tellers and children with monkeys. The sea of the most wonderful of performances would take place and Shalla would be there.
Her laced up boots made her stick out like a sore thumb as she peaked into the tent. Hoards of unhappy animals growled and paced as she made her way towards the center ring. The roar of the crowd and drunken stupor was mystifying.

The ringer was handsome as ever, his arms reached up high as he wafted the crowd in an crescendo of cheers, booze and animal taming. His whip cracked with the howl of a sad elephant and he ran from pole to pole announcing the next acrobatics until his eyes fell upon her.
A smile twitched on his perfectly groomed mustache and he bowed before disappearing so that the next act could appear.

She found a seat for herself near the edge of the steps.
"Enjoying the show?" Came a whisper, brushing her ear lightly she jerked to her left. Eyes wide and frightened.
His toothy grin was unmistakable.
Even as the high flying act spun she couldn't take her eyes off of his top hat, his spats.

Wreck of the Day.

I had a rough Monday.
I wonder how many tiems in this lifetime and the last people have been saying that, all the while grabbing at their necks and tugging away. How many times have they furrowed their brows and ran their fingers through their hair in hopes that the stress would then lessen?
Prayed to a God that made things harder so they would learn some valuable lesson about patience and time constraints. Oiga a la chingada! Bull shit-- I crack my knuckles religiously in classes and try my best to not freak out on my peers who are just trying to help. Trying to make it better and trying to shake me into not sucking. I respect them, they're good to me and at least i've done something its just I keep finding myself in this dance of homework sleep homework sleep school work sleep homework.

Only I dont sleep-- dreams just whirl around class assignments and regardless of where I am I'm in front of a computer trying to make a UV lay out that doesn't want to work.

The pressure is on.
I can feel it in my chest when I remember to breathe.
Thank God most of that is involuntary, oh respiration. You are so good to me.

One more week.
One more week.
One more fucking week.

Wild Child/As I am

When I was a really young girl my mother would snatch her hand away, hiss through her teeth and shout out "Wild Child!"

I was, I would snarl and growl like a little boy and play in the woods. I would take my barbies to climb trees towering at 6 foot. I scraped my knees trying to rollerblade down gravel ridden roads and dug into mud to find a worm not necessarily paying attention to the dirt that threatened its way underneath my finger nails.

Wild Child; It sort of stuck and even with my mother gone and only seeing my Dad on occasion.
For a good year and a even better summer I followed my girls into clubs, lights flickering over head and drunken girls squealing in delight. I was apart of that and every now and then I still am.

I have no idea what's going on.
Would often be a phrase that would cycle in my head and waking up now.
Waking up in a far more productive state I've become entranced by long elbows and soft hands on my side.
I'm stifled by generous affection and nearly puzzled by honest adoration.

I'm happy.
The more I smile the farther that voice gets.
"Wild child!" becomes less audible with time and I'm reminded how nice it is.

It's okay I'm used to it.

"Do you know how many text messages i've had to read?"

At least I can vocalize when someone stops listening. Well namely being able to open about something new thats happening in my life, knowing that it wont be all I talk about. If you'd just let me fucking talk.

I've had a beautiful weekend I really have. I had to stop re-re-re-refreshing my facebook page to make sure that I was actually quite awake. This week has been pretty nonstop but I got two dates out of it and thus far all is looking well. I was hesistant and nervous with my poofty dress but he still twirled me and I felt like a Dame.



Like a lady and I couldn't help but be like; ahhh this is what I was hoping for.
I felt bold enough to wear those heels for five hours and my feet loved every minute of it.

Crisp Washington Air and kisses by a water fountain were enough to warm my heart back up from previous statements like "fuck it!" and "Damnit all!"

I've been the one to sit on the sidelines for quite some time and right now I'm happy. I just wish I had more people to share that with openly, ah well. Mothers I think are supposed to be good for this kind of thing.

I overly gush I suppose.
I kissed a boy and I liked it.

Pondersome Saturday..err sunday mornings.

After copious amounts of sex and the city and copious amounts of caffeine my body is shaky but willing to see this assignment through.
Finals are looming and after tomorrow it will be week 8. Week rendering they should call it because my nerves are already shot even though my lighting and models are in place.

I dont think i've mentioned before but I do some 3d work. I'm worried about portfolio quality and with some set backs on my own account its been rough trying to stay positive when even you doubt yourself.

It's funny that in the long the biggest competitor you'll ever have is yourself. I've always been forced to adapt to situations that cause me to panic. That cause me to doubt, hate and recycle those feelings but now i'm beginning to understand that I can get mad, I can dwell, I can scream and fight for once and try not to harbor all that shit inside of me as much.
So long that I understand that its MY problem and thats how it's going to be. People may be concerned but I will be the end result of what those trials are when they're put in front of me.

Okay! I'm beginning to sound a little cliche' so with that said this week has been..pleasant at best. My heart is leaping out of my chest and hobbling around to see if it can find a potential and i keep batting at it like Shanda at the Cat's with a swiffer. Outside is alive and booming and even now I can hear the drunks stumbling to their apartments ready to pray to a porcelain God and giggling like five year old girls with secrets.

Intimately I etch most of the details out here in a blog or a poem hoping to my God that I wont forget what it was like to be this age. My parents gave me diaries but I was never able to record my life quite like this.. most of this being for my sake.

Ah yes, in Seattle a enormous joke revolving around the rapture was brought up. I was at work til 8 o clock at night so being that I would of hypothetically died at 6 would of been..kinda sucky. Die at work? no lusty love making? no kisses? God that is not a way I wanted to go out.

Aha-- anyhow, I suppose I ought to end this blog and begin some real homework. It's already one am and I figure i'll work til about two before i wake up and have my maya-thon.

Au revoir kids!

Trouble

My life is hilarious.

Even when I don't ask for it get a bunch of ridiculous situations laid at my feet.

My words can easily misconstrued and even something as intimate as a poem can be stretched to fit around what one would assume is a past love.

Nope, not so. I guess I have to laugh it off and let people be angry at me for a while because not everything will go accordingly in my life. Not everyone will like me, I gather that. I just keep getting blind sided by people who I thought of otherwise.

I can attack someone, I can post all kinds of things on facebook and gather up a tribe to fight against the forces of evil but I'm grown now. I see potential online arguments and I avoid them now. Posting in my blog is my warning, my head. Dont fucking do it. You can light a match to gasoline but expect to be able to blow it out with one breath.

That's what it would be doing, I tend to try to reason with someone that's already upset. It doesn't go over well and I always end up looking like a jack ass.

I guess being me doesn't do it enough, my blatant honest, my obsessions and what I dwell on has limits. Just let me know.

I guess I need to set it in stone that i've moved on. My newest poem; believe it or not had nothing to do with Roy. It's been ages since i've even brought the kid up.

What am I trying to prove?

I'm not as bad as you think I am.

Fuggi, crudele,fuggi!

Only the cool kids listen to the mists of avalon soundtrack and The Mozart Album.
Clearly,
I am passing the time by doing some legit homework, blogging and finish up a maya scene that i've been meaning to work on since forever and ages ago. I dont know how the time keeps passing by so damn fast.
I feel like my day's just go by in quiet numbers, 12pm, 8pm then midnight.
The time inbetween is so much like a blurr that I dont think I can really keep up. It's kind of funny the way things wind up and what can happen in less than a month.

I'm sitting in here on a beautiful sunny day (believe me i've had my fair share of the sun.) pining over a guy I cant have and sipping on some nantucket nectars Watermelon strawberry. Mmm yummy citric acid. You're so good to me.

Today as I was waltzing down the familiar elliot block I thought of a face i've never seen, a face that used to go to this school and is not. I dwell on things and particularly figures that could of resulted in friendship but end up being thrown to the wayside for reasons I have yet to come to terms with. I dont understand alot of things but I will quietly mourn the loss of an opportunity to pick brains with fellow artists.
People tend to want to lead me into believing someone or something is not worth my time however that doesn't keep me from being curious. We dont always get along with the same person, one of my friends will make friends with another that I cant stand and vice versa.

However, that's okay. It's amazing that way because different points of views although may be annoying are always a refreshing source of information.

Most importantly though at least I never had misfortune of being stalked, hurt or mislead into believing someone was my friend when he wasnt. He was just another flake I could dismiss and send him into the world thinking that all was well. What a waste, I guess that's the way some lives work. We're all like little puzzles, if that piece doesn't fit into our lives we let it go.

and find maybe another puzzle they'll fit into. Cheesy, no?

It's expected to be sunny all this week and much like everyone else i'll hopefully be able to soak in the rays before i succumb to my Computer dungeon.

Somebody call whine-one-one

I have been officially called out and I got butt hurt.

To my friends; irritably I am an open book.

Any semi-attractive male I find they will hear about it.

Most of them deal, laugh, pat me on the back and push forward. Some tug me back shake their finger and slap my wrist.

Facebook to me isn't private. It never has been, its been my source of peacocking since day one. Look at how cool I am not! I know this, I never tried to be anyone else but apparently flaunting my blatant attraction to the opposite sex is causing some stir around the man folk.

E-gads. Has it gotten so out of hand that my male friends are pulling red flags on me?

In other news I've managed to be able to go to the gym more than once this week!

Today David and I hit the gym to a hardcore belly dance class and it definitely cleaned us out. We head over to a food court so I could get my noodle grub on and realized I didn't have my wallet.

That's another story for another day-- the Day before I head out to burien for a 2 hour nature walk as well as a BBQ. Spending the day with the coleman family always makes me feel better, My grandma was nice enough to drive me home and the day before that I worked out for about an hour.

Working out has been my segway into being able to concentrated a tad bit better. I feel way more balanced but my eating has to get back on track.

Problem remains the same; I hardly eat. Today along i've only eaten ..some cookies, noodles and I've had a cup of coffee.

Oh and a ton of lime water.

I'm working on it!

I wish i had less sterile news but so far so good. I have had an enormous amount of support from my roommates, my former coworkers and friends.

-----

and now for a poem a retaliation of sorts.

Not nearly as I am shy;

I’ve come to recognize that people that I find myself attracted to I avoid like the plague; serious as the plague. Harmonious as a off kilter balancing act .

I have to walk across the tight rope 80 feet above friends and come out on top.

Top; its tempting indeed but without the words of wisdom from the women in my family how could I?

Nay Sir: I am a lady.

I’ve come from women, generation after generation of women telling me to heed because of the lips we were given.

Moon faces trusted warm and welcoming.

Eyes the curve from its distance and legs long and lean for leaping.

I come from women with hard working hands and fast working lovers.

Your mind typically reels from South America. Forgetting its rich past, colorful pastels and fervent rolling of the tongue.

I come from hand claps and sashays Sir. I come from hips swaying hungrily. Sir.

I come from Latinas that dipped their heads and arched their backs and watched those crazy crazy men coax them into believing that there was white satin sheets in that bed.

History has been written many times and as convincing as your eyes are;

I wont get lost in them. Tiny oceans that lure me in like an incubus.

Take my hand; your voice aches and I know better.

Know from the hand clapping that for years i’ve been warned and even still I’m tempted.

To jump from this ledge to let feet rise up to meet shoulders and nails to scratch backs while hands grip hair.

No sir. You will not be a Story told through tears but of sneers.

Side smiles and hair tossing will be involved and i’ll leave with a slightly moistened seat knowing that it ended well.

Its better this way, because my darling.

My dearest; beautiful as you are.

Tempting as those lips may be.

I wasn’t born yesterday.

Even though late at night I guess I could be..