Shades, Colors, and Complexities

Today I went to places I use to go to before I lost myself in the world. I found my legs taking me to the pond as my tears fell from my cheeks and I just sat there crying, choking in pain of untold stories. I have never been so disappointed or felt so helpless for myself in my life. Its noticeable. Through conversations I get the “I’ll call you later” and “why aren’t you laughing.”

My lack of conversations are reflecting on my grades. Going away to college is going to ruin you or that boy is going to distract you and soon I will prove everyone right. But I do not want those things to be true because I am better than that. But honestly, I think I just reflect too much on the negatives because I want everything to be perfect and perfection does not exist and it never will. Perfection is the definition of realities that only exist in daydreams.

I am starting to learn that B’s are acceptable and I should definitely try harder but not beat myself up about it. And a B could be a grade A accomplishment if a B was my goal. I am starting to learn that I need to appreciate the good and understand relationships are about compromise. I know he wants to give me the world, but he must give himself the world first and frankly, I need to find the world for me. I have to learn to accept myself and then maybe accepting the way people react to me will not be difficult.

I am starting to understand that the world is too complex to look at it so simply. Right and wrong are just misconceptions that we use to justify behaviors we cannot understand, kind of like black and white. How many times have we referred to these shades as colors. People may just say, the world is what it is. In reality, the world is what we make it. Look around. How many things can you identify as an invention humans have built? I look at myself and realize I am not just black and white. I am all shades in between and all colors that exist. I am not to be defined so why am I so wrapped up in my identity?

Today I went to places I use to go to before I lost myself in the world and found the world in me, filled with shades, colors, and complexities.

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Power, Passions, and Frozen

I watched frozen with my niece about three weeks ago. During the movie she said that Elsa was mean. Maybe a typical response would have been reassuring her that Elsa was not mean, but I thought it would be more productive to have a conversation. So instead, I asked her why and here is what she said.

My niece: “Because she is throwing snow everywhere and is hurting people.”

Me: “Well, maybe she just does not know how to use her power yet?”

“Power?”

“Yes. Like what she is passionate about and what she is good at. What is your power”

“I like to color in flowers. I do not draw them myself, they are outlined, but I color them to make them look real, but they are make believe”

“Maybe, you could be a florist”

“A florist?”

“Yes, someone who works with flowers and makes them nice and pretty and could organize them for weddings or a nice valentines gift”

*My brother (her uncle) walks in.

My niece: “Whats your power?”

My brother: “I don’t have a power”

And this is the issue. My brother is about to be 30 and it is unbelievable that he does not think he has a power. Not because at the age of 30 people should have everything figured out, but because every person has power with their sole existence. It hurt me to know that he did not believe he made an influence in the world and that his talent (art, medium: air brush) was not considered. This has a lot to do with the educational system.

My niece is four and I wanted her to know that we all have power, but we do not have the space to discover it. And that starts off by paying attention to the children of the world. So often they take in the world without adults even realizing how much of the world children understand. Had I just told her that Elsa was not mean she would have just said okay. But asking her why she believes that Elsa is mean creates a conversation and further understanding. My niece can understand that Elsa is not mean, she just does not know how to use her power because she has not been given the space to do so.  But this also comes with a larger lessons. Sometimes people are not intentionally mean or bad people, most times actually, they have not been given the space to learn who they are and explore their passions. By asking my brother what his power is, my niece is becoming part of a larger conversation in education.

Best Moments of 2015

1. Finishing my first year at college.

Growing up, I never thought college would not be an option for me, but I was unaware of just how great of an option it would be. My parents always told me that school was my job and I had to be great at everything I did. Through my first year of college I did not grow as much as I thought I would. I came into college prepared knowing that I would not be as smart as the others, I would look different than the others, and I would be without family most days. However, I was unprepared for the one realization that would taunt me for the rest of my days.

I realized I did not like her (myself) and most days I still don’t. Maybe thats why make-up has become my best friend. Not because I feel that I lack beauty, but because I often hope that it would cover up the bags left from the tears I cried the night before when I had to sleep with myself.  The more I spend time with myself the less I like her. Unsure if who I am was good enough.  I want to be tough and strong, I am tired of being vulnerable and weak. Maybe in my next two years of college I can learn to appreciate myself, and then maybe, just maybe…

2. Spending Summer with My Parents

My parents were appalled that I did not want to spend the summer with them, but we have never had a great relationship. I was supposed to be in Florida for three weeks and that turned into three months.  During that time I realized how selfless they were not just because of what they were doing for me to have a good time in the best way they knew how, but thinking back to my childhood. Suddenly, the moments I held resentment for became moments I admired where I admired my parents. I no longer saw seeing my dad for half an hour a day as a disappointment in my fatherly ideals, but grateful that he put his blood and sweat into working so that his family could be content.

Summer of 2015, our relationships grew. They saw their little girl growing up,  in ways that maybe they did not approve, but at least they got to see it. And my dad got to spend time with one of his children for longer than a day or two in the last two years since he left. And summer was great, I got my first retail job and learned how to deal with people and their needs, but I also learned that I am not at all a sales person. I guess I do not like to convince people that they need something if they themselves do not believe it.

3. Documenting my Grandmother

Often times I see old video tapes of moments of people’s childhood and realized that I do not have that. I do not even have baby pictures. Then I realized that neither do my cousins. But we do have one person that recorded all of our childhood moments in her memory, and that is our grandmother. She raised us all while our parents were at work. But while planning the documentary I realized that even more so than her grandchildren, grandma did not have any memories of herself. Not even with technology because she hates to take pictures. She says she is not beautiful enough.

I convinced her to be documented and interviewed and learned so much about her love for her family, especially after being a widow. And so next year, I will put the film together where we (the grandchildren) show her how thankful we are for her and how much we appreciate her love and guidance.

4. Finding my signature

For a while, I have tried to find how I would sign all my important documents in life. Like when I get a house, or a car, or pay taxes, or sign credit cards. I wanted something that defined me and I finally found it one day with my godmother who helped me. And I love it. I practice it constantly. My signature is not just something I will get to write on special documents, but its my staple on the world.

5. Losing my virginity

Well that goes left unsaid.

 

Deeper Than Semen

It started off with a no because I was skimming over who he was and decided I did not want to spend time with hurt again. But with his persistence and kind heart that quickly turned into a yes.  All of his friends knew about me. I was “Gawjust!” But I had just gotten out of a relationship and I didn’t know who I was and I wanted to find her. I wanted to be a woman and not the little girl I was with a little boy that couldn’t show he cared or his respect for me because of male societal norms.  And I was hurt, thinking I was destined to hurt again. Too nice for my own good.

I went to his room with my friend and saw him again, but actually for the first time. This time I was not trying to see pass him or avoid his face.  His smile assured me that I was not to be hurt or betrayed again. And after that he kept on trying and soon we turned into pick ups after my 2am shifts where I did not get back to my dorm until 5am or even later sometimes because the conversations were too well absorbed and we rather talk to each other than sleep.  We didn’t even care that our day started at 8:00am. I guess in that sense you could say reality was better than dreaming. And we turned into dates, mostly movies where we often thought the same things. Our minds are often too large for this close minded world. I could express all my conspiracies and see someone look back at me intrigued as if he finally could talk to someone who would understand his thoughts. I knew he understood me when he walked into my study room and gave me a recess. My favorite childhood chocolate. And well, thats when everything fell together.

We turned into long distance for a whole three months, where we talked some more. The cutest thing was when he called at any time without caring if I was awake or asleep. To me, it seemed like a leap of faith that maybe I would pick up and that chance meant everything. We turned into casual conversations about everything but ourselves, about our day and our goals in life, but never too much about the past. Because those were topics we weren’t ready to expose to each other. Maybe timidness looking at each other wondering who would walk away first because we believed our past was too horrid for the other one to know.

And then I finally got to see him, and his birthday present, he wore the same day. My heart smiled because I knew he loved it, maybe more so than the letter I wrote him. But then again, knowing him, probably not. We turned into sleep overs of long talks, hugs, and kisses. Always stopping right before he thought he might cross the line, and that meant everything. We laid on his bed, I was facing the wall, and he was facing me. He told me, “I hope you don’t get scared or walk away (or something close to that). I think I love you.” To which I replied, “I know that I love you.” And days after he asked and I said yes to oral sex and I felt that emotion for the first time. It was amazing to feel someone give me everything, expecting nothing in return. And he was shocked with the puddle I left behind, he was unaware he was the first. And thats when I learned that he would be the first of many things. And he was. And it was amazing, because I knew I waited for the right person and I know no matter what happens, I will never regret that moment. It was perfect. He was perfect.

The sleep overs became more frequent and sleeping naked with his arms around me became our almost daily routine. He kisses my forehead and my cheek, to which he would have to kiss the other so that my cheeks feel even. But that was just to hide my desire of his gentle soft lips on my face. And he would pull me in tighter and hold me closer and tell me that he loved me. We turned into late night hugs and morning breakfast.

My friends warned me that if anything happened I would think back and regret that I lost it to him, but I know I would regret that I lost him. I just hope I didn’t, and if I did, I hope he can look  at me and remember us or that he still reads my blogs and finds little pieces of himself that he left in me. You know, the pieces that fall deeper than semen.

I MATTER

I found myself in a relationship that wasn’t really mine, we were floating in hopes of what could be, knowing that what could be had nothing to do with him and me but him and her. I was the secretary to the doctors office, you know the one that you have to see first before getting what you really are there for. I was a time block keeper as he awaited for the two of them to fall together again. And they did for one whole weekend where I was uninvited and completely ignored.

Right after, my hope accepted his answers and asked limited questions because I did not want him to think that I did not trust him but not voicing my feelings was creating the distrust. The Friday before I left I saw her name with a verification of who she was and two emojis, a heart and a moon. The two things that were special to our relationship. I was just a heart, a.k.a unknown, unidentifiable. We had a conversation about it and I pretended I was over it for an entire week. Speaking about the situation to an outsider made me realize how upset I was and how I didn’t deserve being treated the way I was treated. “I am too nice” they told me. But for now on I am done being too nice forever. I refuse to accept anymore bullshit. I think being lied to for an entire month and falling for a guy who had an entire relationship on the side, having a guy talk to three girls while we were together, having a guy talk to many girls and convince me I was crazy, threaten me, manipulate my mind, shake his hands in front of my face while he was upset, and having a guy sweep me off my feet by being the most amazing guy I ever met and then ruining it with the inclusion of his ex is enough bullshit and guy drama for a 19 year old. I have been fucked over too many times before even knowing who I am and I am not sure I’ll be able to find myself.

Other than this he is great. Loving and amazing. The thing is I matter too and if he really wanted something to happen with me he would try to fix it. And yeah he said that he was sorry and should have been more considerate of my feelings, but this week has not felt any better especially when messages are so limited.

The thing is this has happened with every guy that I have spoken to and the common denominator is me. It’s time for a change, I need to focus on me because I matter.

I am tired of settling for a guy. Of lowering my needs, wants and limiting my happiness for his. I am tired of needing to train a guy to respect as if he were a dog. I am tired of repeating myself and asking for the same things over and over. I am tired of waiting for someone to put me first.

I need to put me first. Because when I didn’t I found myself in a relationship that wasn’t really mine, we were floating in hopes of what could be, knowing that what could be had nothing to do with him and me but him and her.

Seasons

I feel like I need space. Not because I do not want to spend time with him, but because I got use to all the time we use to spend.  We do not share nearly the same amount of time anymore. I should  have not allowed myself to get so comfortable. I knew discomfort was not too far away because something his type of great cannot last a lifetime. He says that what we have now is just a result of our relationship, but I am not sure I am satisfied, with myself that is. I LOVE spending time together. But i am too dependent on him and it is ruining us. I expect constant messages, constant kisses, and hugs, when things were not like that in the beginning. Things were perfect in the middle, when we were new, sex, conversations, sleeping in his arms, But I guess it is all old now, those things haven’t been happening.

I wish to ask him if he ever thought about seasons and how it affects the rose. I have.

It makes my body squeal. The rose is planted in the spring, taking in all the water and sunlight that spring has to offer. It grows and shines all throughout summer. I have never experienced anything this beautiful. Of course some pedals fall, but they regrow. And the growth is amazing because it only makes the rose stand stronger. But fall and winter are sad. The coldness and early nights makes the rose start to droop and shrink until the pedals slowly fall to the ground, unable to regrow. The rose tries everything to survive. It tries to lean into all sunlight available and all the water that falls. But the days end earlier so it is not nearly enough sun and the water turns into snow. It is too cold to inhale. Emptiness lingers and the rose sees all other flowers die until its finally its turn.

We are the rose. And winter is almost here. Are we going to let our rose die? Or is it only winter on my side of the world? Is it still summer over there? Please let me know so that I could feel the warmth of reality and you lying by my side one more season.

Wanted to be.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Imaginary Friend.”

I never had an imaginary friend. My childhood was filled with moments were I tried to act older than my age to fit in with my siblings. Maybe my childhood imagination was fogged up by where I wanted to be and not where I was. And my imaginary friend had no time to be created or step into my life and share my lonely moments with me.

Thinking back now, I probably would have had a better childhood with an imaginary friend. I would have learned to accept my childish behaviors and play with Barbie dolls instead of trying to paint my nails, do my hair, and be in conversations I did not understand. My upstairs neighbor was one of my best friends. She use to come to my house all the time. We went to the same elementary school so we would walk to school and back together. I remember the first day we got to walk to school by ourselves, we felt so grown. Then high school came and we became a little distant, and the college came and we rarely talk. It amazes me how feeling grown turned into distance. I think of her and wonder what she is doing, how she is, and what she has been through. We probably have been through so much separately we may not recognize each other looking from the inside out.

But, she is still my neighbor and one of my greatest memories. When I see her, it is like we never left each other, like we speak every day. It is like we are back to elementary walking and feeling grown. Except we are in college walking the streets of life feeling like times were better as kids, regretting wishing for moments of where we wanted to be.

Speak

I have not written in a while because I have nothing to say. Every time I go to write I think of what might not be present such as correct grammar, large vocabulary, but most importantly my stories. I start to wonder if I have any more stories left. Usually my blog is taken up by past experiences. I am thinking I should start writing about my present experiences and use this blog as a way of documenting my life so that when I am older I will be able to look back and know where I was at, who I was with, and how I felt. I hope to never forget but if I do, I hope someone reminds me that I once had a blog and I could learn who I was from it.

I hesitate to write about my current life now and how I feel because of who might read it. It is making my writing dishonest. But I am going to take courage and write, write, write all of my feelings and all of my experiences as I forget who might have the chance to read it. If I am going to be honest, I need to be unapologetic, Verbally Silence and Scriptly Loud.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly

I am tired of being in the same English class for three semesters now. The titles of the courses may differ, the works as well, but the way my mind has to work is absolutely the same. Many people need to look at the small things present in the text and pictures deeply in order to grasp the larger ideas and themes.

My mind grasp all the small things while connecting them to the large idea. Its not that I cannot grasp that he is paralyzed and could hardly move, however communities through the french alphabet (letters of the language) or the blinking of his eyes. Or what a hermit crab is and how it relates to his dependency on people to work in the world. But why not go into why he might feel this way, and why the timing for this information sets up the story. Or maybe thats exactly what we are doing, but the questions phrased are too simple for my mind to put in energy to answer, what is the point of saying what I see when its so obvious.

I am much more into debates and discussions about the tones and picking out quotes to reason our thoughts. I do not like picking out sentences as a class to analyze what he means. I felt that was part of the assignment when the syllabus said read 1-68 for September 28th. Class should be about hearing the students bring up different interpretations of the text that they read on their own time, not looking at each sentence together to identify our interpretations.

I got a little excited, to the point where I even stopped writing this paper when the question of if we would rather be euthanized than to live like Jean Dominique Bauby. But this conversation lasted all of 30 seconds.

Maybe I should contribute to these conversations to organize my thoughts, but every time I try he tells me my comments will be more useful at a later time. This becomes very evident when I raised my comment of the irony in his use of language while he is almost completely paralyzed and speechless. It makes this book particularly interesting to me because I love to see the combinations that exist that seem nonexistant. But then we talk about the combination of him shaving his father and then someone shaving him, but never really talking about why he chose to mention this specific experience out of all the experiences in his life.

But then of course the class changed to everything I was waiting for through five minute reflection piece where we chose a chapter and wrote our ideas on it. However, even when I talk about my ideas, belief, and interpretations in this section of the class it still does not seem to be taken as highly as everyone else’s ideas. I am wondering if my thoughts are not as advance or intellectual as it was in my first year of college when I constantly got acknowledged of how well I articulated and how important my voice was in the class.

Maybe I speak more willingly in discussions. But as I look around the classroom, maybe being the only person of color has everything to do with the lack of reaction.

Two Week Sadness

My brother called today and it amazed me. I haven’t heard from him in a while. Sometime between life and college we got caught up and did not utter a text or a call from each other. My family and I hardly ever mention anything that is wrong. We were brought up to think that no one should know your business, especially not your downfall. I knew he needed to talk to someone because he opened up so quickly.

It started off with a very excited hello since I haven’t spoken to him in a while and shortly he went into telling me his lack of motivation in the last two weeks. He was at a point where he did not leave the house for two weeks because he could not bring himself to do it. i asked him what he did that changed his pattern today, he told me he got up and just went out. I replied that he needed to go out everyday, that would be his solution. I know how emotional my brother and I are and I expressed that I felt the same exact way and went to seek counseling, maybe the same resource will be beneficial to him. Although i have not gone to the appointment yet, however knowing that it is there is comforting enough. Sometimes talking to the people around you is not enough because you do not want them to know or you do not want them to tell you everything is going to be okay.

It touched me to hear my brother express his feelings of sadness and lack of motivation because it meant he trusted me. His words touched my heart and hugged the feelings that drove me to the counseling center. It is interesting to think that we are both going through the same thing. I wonder if my sister is too?  Maybe we are all in extreme sadness.