Don’t forget to Remember

I, unknown wannabe writer to most of you, haven’t been posting anything for a considerable amount of time. Why? Well, I’m disappointed that you asked, but I’ll tell you anyways.  It’s not because I chose to vanish from the face of this bloggering website, not consciously anyways. Maybe it was a subconscious act buried deep in the back of my mind… or maybe in the front, hidden in plain sight. Either way, the reason behind my inexcusable behavior is because of one simple fact that I loathe to admit, although I must in order to explain my long absence. I forgot. I forgot about the blogs, and the posting, and the reading, and writing, and expressing myself to random strangers via the internet. (random strangers that I loved simply because of their unknown, innocent randomness)  a.k.a YOU. I’m sorry I forgot you. But I did.

It started out innocently enough; my computer would simply refuse to post anything of mine for a while… a very irritably long while. I personally think this is just the start of a worldwide epidemic of technological proportions. An epidemic where technology rebels and attacks! But that’s off topic, just watch out for those “cell phones” devices I’ve been hearing so much about. Now, about my computer… Failed post after failed post, I simply stopped trying to post. I kept content with reading the blogs of others, sometimes even envying their ability to post. A silly envy, but envy nonetheless. They had no idea how they were lucky enough the have the simple pleasure of being able to tell the world anything they desired. Anything at all, while I sat and could not. That was my first stage of forgetting.

Distance.

I soon became tired of swimming through an ocean of recorded memories. I can’t even swim… Well I can now, but I couldn’t back then; oh the majesty of Time. Accompanied by my lack of interest, I wouldn’t even try anymore, preferring to work on school assignments or some other boring activity that I won’t indulge you of mentioning. That was the second stage.

Disinterest.

I’m not sure how many stages there are in forgetting something (especially since I’ve made those stages up as I go along), but everything follows a fairly simple general process. After a couple of days having not been on this site, I eventually forgot about it. The neglected thought crawled into a dark recess of my mind and remained there until a sudden blast of nostalgia awoke it from its slumber. I remembered how much I loved to write (a thought that never really completely abandoned me) and most importantly I remembered how I would love for people to witness my writings. After some contemplation I revisited, and read over my previous long-ago posts. I laughed. I may have changed since last I posted, and my writing style may have changed too ( as does the world around us), but I will continue and hope that they’re as good as my last posts. Not to sound conceited, but I enjoyed them quit a bit. I was so full of whimsy back then, although I sounded like quit a pessimist! Maybe if i would have stayed, this change in myself wouldn’t be so noticeable. My change would have been gradual and undetected. It’s at times like these where one wishes that one hadn’t forgotten. I hope that in time my whimsy will return, although I’ll remain the optimist I morphed into. Some things, like this website, shouldn’t be forgotten. Others…. eh. What I’m trying to put down (and what you should be picking up right about now) is that you should always remember to never forget and not forget to remember what you forgot.

 

In case you forget.

Nostalgia? Maybe

As I stood in front of my school today, ready to hop in my mother’s car whenever the Lord would bless me with her long awaited presence, my mind began to slip into the deep waters of my childhood memories. ( or more like shallow waters since I have a tendency to forget stuff.) Was that nostalgia I felt? Just now? Nah… Let me start from the beginning.

(Five minutes earlier)

I was standing on the sidewalk…. awkwardly… by myself. People rushed by me, wanting to get home as soon as their teenage legs could carry them. (surprised I’m a teen? Yea me too) I waited patiently for my mother’s car to appear. I stood behind a lamp post whose shade was barely able to shield my face from the glaring sun. Grrr, dumb sunlight. As most people do when they’re alone I was looking at the ground in front of me. A stampede of teenagers to my right and the street to my left. Suddenly I got the sudden urge to look up and, as I did, I got tiny glimpses of the school’s lush green field just behind the mass of rushing bodies. A breeze brought with it the scent of he freshly cut and watered grass and memories buried deep within my mind.  But only one of those memories enticed me enough to dwell further upon it.

This is how I felt when with my rabbit, but then again, I was three years old

As a little girl of three years of age I loved spending time outside playing with my two giant rabbits and tiny neighbor, Jose. My backyard, which happened to merge with his, was full of fast growing grass and every couple of weeks my grandpapi would take the liberty of mowing the lawn. Whenever he did Jose and I would each grab one of my rabbits so they wouldn’t disturb Grandpapi and sit on the big blue lawn chair that was on the slim patch of cement that bordered the left side of the backyard. We would each drink a juice box and save one special for Grandpapi. As Grandpapi mowed the aroma of freshly cut grass and apples from our apple tree blended and made us sigh as we inhaled deeply. By this time, though, we would forget the rabbits and they’d jump out of our laps and run and hop all around the yard. Granpapi would turn off the mower and chase them with us. We ran after and slid on the dirt to catch them, but they were always too fast for Jose’s and my tiny legs. Grandpapi always caught them and I grew to admire him for his ability to fool and catch animals. He grew up on a farm and had a good way with all kinds of animals. After the fat rabbits were caught Jose and I took extra care to hold them tight in out short arms as Grandpapi finished with the lawn. When he did, we’d place the rabbits back inside their big chain-link cage and cool off in the pool.Jose and I would pretend we knew how to swim and splash each other while Grandpapi amused us by swimming underwater and pretending to be a shark. As we walk into the house after a fun day we would bring with us the scent of  water and grass under our sandals.

I breathed in the wonderful scent from my school’s field, wishing I could go back to that time. I could say hi to my old friend Jose (if he even lived there still) or pick an apple off our giant tree to munch on and ignore the angry shouts of the current inhabitant. I noticed a small smile was on my face as I contemplated this, but even more noticeable were the pairs of eyes that kept glancing at me. They were the eyes of gossiping teens, and I knew they were wondering at the reason behind my smile. This made me smile even more, knowing that they would never find out even if they wanted to. Then, just as quickly as my smile came, it vanished. I was suddenly self-conscience of their wandering eyes and irritated that my mother hadn’t come to pick me up yet. What was taking her so long? I looked down and resumed my previous position, not making any eye contact.

 My phone vibrated and I answered to my mother’s irritated voice. Apparently, she had expected me to meet her at the side of the school and I had been waiting in the wrong spot. She was waiting for me and had BEEN waiting for the last ten minutes. I hung up, sighed, and made my way to the side of the school, joining the crowd that no longer stared.

Cold Weather Has Arrived!

Alright, who else is completely and unquestionably stoked that the cold season has finally arrived? I know I am. I have already said goodbye to air conditioners, hot sweaty days, and irritability. There is nothing I hate more than the summer, and nothing I love more than autumn. Leaves get their tan and the cool breeze just seems to wash over you. Warm sweaters, fireplaces, hot chocolate, and brisk mornings are some of my favorite things and you can only get them during the cold season

For a small portion of my life I lived in Chicago, Illinois where there were stormy Autumns and snow-filled Winters. At six years of age I would run outside and play in the rain, then have to spend a week indoors with a cold. It was always worth it. During the winter all the neighborhood kids would go outside and play in the sparkly white snow. There were snowball fights and snowman contests. The kids would race to see who could slide down the ice the fastest or make a snow-angel and get up without denting the snow beneath them. The few years in Chicago helped me realize my love for the cold, no matter how far below zero the thermometer said it was outside.

I also think that my strong dislike for the summer heat was discovered there. In Chicago the summers are insufferably HOT and I wouldn’t wish to experience that ever again.

A popular children’s toy that I’ve never actually seen.

The reason I love the Fall so much is unknown even to me. Maybe it’s that the climate isn’t too hot or too cold. Maybe

 

I happen to really like the colorful nature around me. Or maybe I’m a long distant relative of Jack Frost (like a great great grandfathers second cousin twice removed on a full moon). It may be all of the above. Or it might not be any of them, but something completely different with a physiological twist to it. One of the many thing that I love to do during the Fall is to take a walk. Where? you might ask. Well, nowhere in particular. I just walk. Sometimes I get lost, but I always find my way back… eventually. Taking walks in the fresh air to clear my head and reminisce in the quiet is NOT why I do this. I like crunching leaves under my feet. I know it sounds childish, but that’s what everyone needs in their life: child-like joys. This just happens to be one in a very long list. But back to my intended subject.  Err wait, I’m done… Cool beans.

Inspiration

As I sit here, watching a movie and contemplating whether or not to put off my homework until tomorrow, I try my best to think of an interesting enough topic to write about. I wait for inspiration to hit and think of every possible topic, wondering which one to pick. Honestly, none of them appealed to me at the moment. I now realize that I was thinking too hard. I was overwhelming myself by the flood tsunami of ideas. I should let the ideas flow like lava after a volcano eruption. That’s right: lava, because water in a stream just isn’t as inspiring.

oooh! lava

By now, you should have made the obvious conclusion that I will not be doing my homework seeing as I’m currently occupied. If you haven’t, then I suggest you not read any mystery novels or watch “Taken 2”.

    But back to my unknown topic that I will know reveal to you: inspiration. Inspiration can come from anywhere at anytime in any place. It’s something you devour with your mind to light up your soul no matter how dark and evil you are (unless, of course, you’re Hello Kitty). You better be prepared. It could be an insubstantial object set in your path that triggers your hidden reserves of creativity. I ( apart from being a learning wannabe writer)

indeed

am a learning wannabe artist. Drawing, drawing and drawing is mostly what I do on my spare time when I’m not off on a random adventure. Of course my adventures are limited since I’m under aged. Being a drawer demands inspiration and I know how easily it is acquired when least expected, hard when needed, and how quickly it can vanish. It’s quite frustrating. This creative awakening is reached many ways, either by pictures, feelings, or situations.

  But why do I bother telling you what you possibly already know? Why do I bother telling you anything at all? Why am I asking YOU all these questions? Well, because I can. And because I am a naturally curious person. They say: “curiosity killed the cat”. Good thing a cat has nine lives, huh. I naturally ask questions, but that’s a completely different subject. (or is this subject all a lie?) Either way make sure to look for inspiration everywhere you go. (except Disneyland, the well’s run dry over there). Until next time stay safe and imagine the impossible.

NO! That’s impossible! The fabric of the universe would collapse!

Im New!!

 Being new is a hard thing to be. It places us in a place better left uninhabited. “New” demands a profound lack of knowledge in the subject or activity. As the new one you have to rely on others’ understanding, your own instincts, past experiences, or vague understandings. I had once thought that the art of being new is never mastered. You will always stumble into it and reach a point of awkwardness that makes one feel… well… awkward. Once i had thought this, but no more.

 I have been new to many different things throughout my life; so many times in fact, that I consider myself a master at it in my own way. I am neither ashamed nor proud at my continued new-ness. It means that I have taken risks and tried a variety of different activities… but it also means that I haven’t been one to settle down. Moving from place to place is a sure way to continued being new. The more places I visit, the more people I meet. I’m gonna be honest with you; I don’t like people in general. That may change if I meet you, but I am otherwise incredibly annoyed by people and the common stupidities of humans. Don’t be offended, though. I myself make many common stupid acts. This, too, annoys me. But hey, thats life. Without stupid we wouldn’t have any fun now would we?

 Ironically, I rather enjoy meeting new people. I’m pretty contradictory like that. The more people I meet the more I’m widely known for my extreme weirdness and loud randomness. Now THAT is something I’m proud of. I ‘m always myself around people, no matter how overwhelmed they are by my awesomeness. Why would I bother being someone else? No matter how new I am I never fail to express myself. And trust me; I have a lot of expression to express. I am who I am, but we can reach that subject some other time… maybe. Now, I am starting all over again. Being new and loving the idea of trying something new. I don’t guarantee that my writings will be the best, but I know that as time progresses, I will get better. Not that I care if you like it or not. I write what I feel like.  If you don’t like, then don’t read. If you do, then I’m glad I could be of service.

 

 

Hello world!

Hello world and all who inhabit it! I assume that you want to know something about me, the person whose writings you read. Well, let me just start off by saying that if you happen to not like me, you will be rewarded with a total number of ZERO shits. That’s right!

Anyways, I am an enthusiastic weirdo. I love expressing my individuality…. unless of course im with a someone im expected to socialize with. I am super fun (extreme understatement) around my friends and even more around strangers that I assume will never see again, even though we eventually turn out to be good friends. But put me next to or in front of someone I’m SUPPOSED to become friends with and my extreme awkward mode goes into auto pilot…. or better yet, no pilot.

Do I have a name? Possibly.

Will I tell you? Of course not.

Why? Because I don’t want to. Simple. It’s a waste of time to beat around the bush so I’ll be honest with you this one time.

I am a female of 5ft 6in (roughly). If you ask me my favorite color I will most likely tell you I don’t exhibit discrimination towards colors, but on the inside I’ll be thinking of the color blue. Unless you can read minds, which would make you number 2 on my friends list, then you will have no way of knowing. I have hobbies that include writing, drawing, reading, daydreaming, and listening music while I do everything that I do. I love horseback riding, but since I don’t do that as often as I’d like I wouldn’t call it a hobby. I am currently in the process of writing a book, but since I’ve barely started I doubt it will be complete anytime soon. However, if you are someone who has published writings, or even if you just happen to like writing a lot like myself, then your criticism is welcomed. Preferably constructive criticism as opposed to destructive.

I like wearing fuzzy socks in the fall and walking around the house with my blanket over my shoulders during winter. I like the hot chocolate with mini marshmallows and any food deliciously cold; revenge being one of them. Coloring books were invented especially for me to suck at them and the ground can’t seem to accept the fact that I don’t want my face smashing into it. I play guitar, though inadequately.  I am a LOUD person, but I also enjoy the quiet sanctuary within my mind. There are a bunch more this-and-thats about me, but I would prefer not to tell you.

You know too much already.

However, I just might answer any of the questions you send me. There’s only one way to find out….. or is there? Anything you want to talk to me about, go ahead.

Whatever you don’t want to do, do it. Comment, like, follow. Whichever is less appealing. Have fun!