Just a Little More Time

Spring break is officially over. This is not alright, but I have to deal with it. It's the way things go right now, you know. So, yeah, it's over, but it was a GREAT spring break, and I wish that I had time to go into super detail about it, and I guess I do, so here we go.

On Friday, I was driving along with Kat and James, and the moment that we saw Bakersfield from the Grapevine, I could not stop laughing. A sea of lavenders spread out on both sides of I-5, so vibrant that both Kat and James asked, "Is that a lake?" No! Wildflowers! YES! Kat and I were in the middle of a conversation in Bakersfield when I had a brilliant idea... instead of going to San Francisco for two days, why not get dropped off in Patterson like before, have Pops come pick me up, and then go to San Francisco the next night. Of course, there was the problem of GETTING to San Francisco, but that could be resolved with a couple of phone calls. I called Pops and it was arranged that I would call him and he could come pick me up. Arranged a ride with Emily and friends to get to San Francisco, but then I called Aubrie and she said she was going fershure, so we were going to drive up together. Got to Patterson early, Pops get there late, but it was alright. PANCHO WAS THERE! It was awesome!!!! I drove back through the country and as soon as I got home Pancho and I went for a walk. It was great! :D

Hung out with Jessica that night. We drove around, went to Michael's and got temporary henna tattoos, tried on foam animal hats. Went over to Chaz's house and made mischief... and by mischief, I mean I ran up to Jesse's window twice with a bottle of sprinkles screaming SPRING BREAK!!!! and threw sprinkles through his window! I WAS going to leave a wonderful surprise whole shelled eggs on his car with phrases such as "Happy Easter!" and "Repent!" but someone was walking out of his house as soon as I was about to cross the street to leave them there, so I booked it out of there (it's rumored his dad keeps a 2x4 with a nail in it close to the front door, and he's got artillery in the garage that I definitely don't want to mess with, haha). So, sprinkles it was. After awhile of talking and laughter on the sidewalk, I took Jessica home then headed home myself. Built my nest on the floor with Pancho under the covers close by my side and went to sleep. :)

Saturday!

Saturday was chill and slow. I got up in the morning and had no idea of what to do. Jessica D. was at the beach, Jessica Leu was with her family. I ended up watching the new Star Trek movie with Bepherny Boren, which was AWESOME! Spock is a G! I thought of ideas for my tattoo, but it wasn't until Bethany mentioned the Tree of Gondor that I really got a good idea of what to do. After Bethany went home, Pancho and I walked around... don't really remember what else happened. Eventually I drove to Oakdale with Pops, and then Aubrie and I hit the road. Drove half of the way. Got to San Francisco, and I was on will call with Troy and Robert, but they couldn't find a taxi for an hour, and I couldn't get my ticket until Troy was there, so Aubrie bought me a ticket after GLTSO had played two songs. It was great. Being there made me so happy, I almost cried. I love Home so much. I mean, there are always elements missing, pieces that don't fit together, you know, like Aaron wasn't there, and Moma is part of Home too and she's not there, but it's beautiful. Home fills my heart up; I couldn't stop smiling. I didn't get to dancing until the last song, but that's alrighty. The next two bands should either have been booked BEFORE GLTSO or not at all... whereas people were dancing and cheering for GLTSO, lots of people cut out for the next two bands. There were no insorouts for minors, though, so I had to sit through it while everyone else was outside partying. After awhile, someone walked in and said to Troy, "Troy's bleeding outside" (Troy's response was, "I'm Troy.") Apparently, Robert and Joe Plante were playing and they headbutted and Robert's head split open and he was bleeding everywhere... two songs into the Pine Box Boys set, we had to cut out because Robert had to go to the hospital. An ambulance pulled up and he had to get eleven or twelve stitches. Although it's not that noticeable, his scar is pretty sweet. Spent the night at T+R's. Because Aaron wasn't there, I finally got to sleep on the couch! YES! I would have given up the couch in favor of Aaron being there though. It's alright. What's over is over, and I DID get to sleep on the couch, and Aaron was there "in spirit."

Sunday!!

On Sunday, we drove back to Turlock from San Francisco and as soon as I got home I finished designing my tattoo. I was on my way to the tattoo parlour to book an appointment, when I thought, "I should call Lexi!" So I did! Together, we embarked to the tattoo/skate/smoke shop to see how much this tattoo would cost and when I would be able to book an appointment... $90, but he was completely booked until the next week. Egh. "Alright, nevermind, thanks though!" I responded. He looked up at me surprised and said, "Wait wait wait! Tuesday!" Tuesday wasn't good either. Tomorrow (Monday?)? Still not good for me. He then offered to keep the shop open late, just so that he would be the one to give me the tattoo (just so he would be the one getting paid). Total deal! Lexi and I hung out for awhile, just talking and whatnot, went to visit my cousin Depeche (and Sebastian! Jewel is adorable, babbling away, and Depeche's new puppy is adorable!)! Lexi went home for an hour, and I prepared myself, calling everyone who I thought should go with me. I picked up Lexi and Jessica Leu, and we went down there, and a few minutes later Jessica Detomasi rolled up, and then Depeche! Played hack while I waited for the appointment ahead of me to finish up. As we were waiting inside, none other than ZACHERY showed up... a total surprise! I screamed a little bit, I was so excited. So here we are, six teenagers in a skate/smoke/tattoo shop, all gathered into one little room. This tattoo definitely hurt a lot less, especially since I knew what to expect and because I had a whole group of people to talk to... the first time with just my mom, and not even getting to have my mom in the room (plus it was 4 1/2 hours, one session) was terrible and beautiful all at once. (P.S. I love my tattoos, they're the BEST!) This one only took about an hour, and then we all decided to go get frozen yogurt, and who did I see walking down the street as I drove to Yogolicious... JORDAN MILLER! I stopped and rolled down my window and yelled, "GET IN THE CAR GET IN THE CAR!", unlocked the door, and he jumped in and we took off. (I've noticed that this blog is sort of just like a sequence of events with not much substance with written word, but good memories indeed). After yogurt, everyone parted ways... I took Jessica and Lexi and Jordan home, and Jordan showed me his fish pond in his backyard WHICH HAS DUCKS IN IT (totally jealous). Went home and made my first attempt to watch Wizard of Oz, but I fell asleep within the first ten minutes.

Monday

I woke up super early on Monday and drove out to Escalon to pick up Aunt Jessica so that we could go visit Grandpa in the hospital. It was really hard to see him sick like that, and even harder to see him cry and not understand why he couldn't go home. I wish that he would take of himself better and learn how to be nicer, but it's just Grandpa and I love him no matter what. But seriously, when he gets better, he better take care of himself or I'm gonna have to have a sitdown with him and be like, "Seriously, Grandpa? Seriously?" I honestly doubt that it would work, but I always feel like I've had a special connection with Grandpa and that maybe, MAYBE, it could work. We were only able to stay for two hours, and then I had to drive back to Escalon, where I waited for Carter and Indy to get out of school, just so I could holler at them. I was awful tired, so I headed back to Turlock and ended up passing out on my floor for an hour; Yvette's call woke me up. I spent a few hours that evening with Yvette, Janelle, Zach, Jessica, and Jessica, playing at the park and making videos for Anna. It was an alright night. I cut out early and kicked it at home with Pops for the rest of the night. Another attempt to watch Wizard of Oz was made, but once again, it was a fail. I got maybe twenty minutes into it and fell asleep.

Tuesday was my last day at Home.

I didn't really do much, either. I kicked it at home, went with Jessica to visit Mr. Tribble at THS, went for a walk to Depeche and Pancho. And that's about it. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening at home, just kicking it, which is something that I don't really do that often. I watched LOST, the Richard Alpert episode, which was like watching an enhanced Spanish soap opera, as in... it... was... AWESOME! Lost. Seriously.

Final attempt to watch Wizard of Oz was, AGAIN, a failure. I got to the Scarecrow song. Luckily that's the best song, so I am content with my inability to stay awake during such a good movie.

Wednesday was a sad, sad day because...

I won't be home again until late April, if I can even get home. I might miss another wedding, which I'm sick of doing. Aaron's telling me that I'm not going to miss it, but I don't want him to drive to pick me up, drive back to Knight's Ferry for the wedding, and then drive all the way back to Riverside and Turlock again the next day. That is WAY too much driving. Either I'm going to have to figure out a different way to get to that wedding or I might not be able to go. It breaks my heart a little bit everytime I miss a huge Family gathering like that, especially a wedding. Especially an OAKDALE wedding. There's just something about Oakdale weddings that's different from all the other weddings that I've been to, maybe because they're all outdoors and the bride's always barefoot and they're in the places that I love with the people that I love. Anyway, I'm definitely digressing.

Wednesday at 7 a.m., Troy, Robert, and Aubrie picked me up and we headed to LA. I slept until Bakersfield, and then I was going to go back to sleep again, but I decided that I couldn't miss the last glimpse of my valley, so I stayed awake and bid farewell. When we got to LA, we went to the Griffith Park observatory. It was really neat, but LA is UGLY. I hate it. I would never want to live here for long periods of time. I always thought that I would want to, but after being in an airplane and looking down at it, and seeing it during the day from the Observatory... no. Never.

I'm going to skip all the inbetweens and say that the Admiral Radley show at the Bootleg Theater was terrible. It wasn't AdRad, it was the sound engineer and the venue and the promoter, everything about it besides the band was absolutely terrible, and so eventually the band stopped caring (it seemed). The sound was godawful, the room was so small that you could barely move when people actually started showing up. Everything was just disorganized. Johnny Garner and Souther Salazar were there, though, and that was cool, and there was a nice back patio where everyone was hanging out after the show, so that was cool. I've never really talked to Souther before, but it was neat and his girlfriend's real sweet too.

Thursday was spent driving to Venice Beach, where we were checking out the skaters at the new skate park, finding shells, walking up and down the pier and looking at the little shops. After we had left, Dios was playing a show at Hollywood Forever cemetery, which was really weird. We headed out there and we actually had to park IN the cemetery. They went and they were scheduled to play for 45 minutes, I think, but when they were playing, after the third song the guy running the show walked up and said, "This is your last song." Joel announced, "So, I was just informed that this is our last song, so, luckily, it's a seven part song." They played one song, and then they started a fifth one! Awesome! Joel totally owned. But then the guy running the show shut off Joel's mics and kept turning on the lights and it was totally NOT cool. Talked to Jimi for awhile afterward which was really cool; like Souther, I'd never really had a TALK with Jimi before, but we had a little one and it was pretty neat. He's a great dude. :)

We went and had a sleepover with Troy and Robert that night so that we could get up in the morning and go to DISNEYLAND! I went on everything that I've never been on, Splash Mountain Space Mountain Captain EO Matterhorn (On Friday, I did the California Adventure stuff... INCLUDING THE UPSIDE DOWN ROLLER COASTER!!!! I'm really proud of myself for that one. Troy said, "It's only a twenty minute wait, so think about it!" and I said, "I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO THINK ABOUT IT, LET'S GO!!!!") Disneyland was awesome. I love it. I really want to go with Dave and Jenny, and I might in April for David's birthday. I'm going to try to get a job there next year, through the college program, but we'll see. Hopefully I'll be able to work there while I'm down here at some point in time, even if it's only for a few months on weekends.

Now I'm back in Riverside. I am going to ACE all my classes this quarter and I am determined to be able to run between three and five miles straight by the time finals are over, and I'm going to keep running in the summer and everything is going to be great.

Ben just told me to write, "Poop."

So, yeah, I guess this is the update. I invested in a pirate flag FINALLY, and next is an Israeli flag, a California flag, and possibly a Mexico flag. I'm going to hang them from the ceiling next year and everything is going to be swell.

Alright, this took a long time and everyone wants me to stop writing now so I'm done.

There Were Bugs Under My Skin and they Came from Under My Fingernails

I would just like to say that tonight has been one of the best nights of my life.

I had THE BEST conversation with my friend about this INTENSE philosophical movie "Waking Life" and he forced me to think about it and, like, we created a dialogue between us and it was... wow. Mindblowing, most definitely. I like how he forced me think about this stuff. Like he would pause the movie and explain everything and then give his thoughts and then make me give my thoughts and it was brilliant.

Wow. I am definitely going to have to write down as much as I remember. In the morning. Because I seriously need to get some sleep. I woke up at 5 this morning and, yeah, I took some naps, but I officially feel tired.

Got back to the dorms and got duct taped by Anthony and Max for no apparent reason except for kicks and giggles. Definitely hurt ripping it off and I've got duct tape marks all over my skin, but whatevs.

Last final is on Friday, then San Francisco, then Home, then modeling for Jessica's painting, then Pancho, then Pops, then maybe Grandma and Grandpa, then back to LA for Admiral Radley and MAYBE Disneyland and then hangoutage with the Fambly and then back to Riverside for another super awesome quarter of fun and not studying enough and panicking and then pulling together and studying last minute and passing the class when I thought I was going to fail and laughing and taking random trips and missing Home and

then it's SUMMER TIME and Chuck and Hiroko and Mia and Ana will come and I'll go to Tahoe and Ben and Anthony and Chanel and Persiah and I will meet up and everyone will come home from their different colleges and MAYBE we'll take a trip to New York to see Anna but I highly doubt it and then...

and then who knows. Who knows if any of this will really happen. I'm looking forward to too much. I'm making too many plans. I need to be here. I need to be now.

I need to go to sleep because I have to get up early and turn a paper in.

Conversations With a Friend on a Starry Summer Night

This is my FINAL draft, along with comments that people left on it.

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Conversations with a Friend on a Starry Summer Night

Part I: Father and Son

When you were a boy in Turkiye, your father would pick you up, his great hands embracing yours, still young. He would wrap his fingers securely around your wrists and begin his tumultuous cycle, spinning in circles like a carousel, the world a blur surrounding you with his laughing face the only clarity before you.

“You,” your father encouraged, “are going to fly someday,” and you believed him.

Those days were always sunny. Because you lived close to the sea, you reveled in being able to run free, shoeless and shirtless, basking in the warmth, soil clinging to the soles of your feet. Your gaze never turned away from the clouds.

As you grew older and nobler, your line of sight shifted from the sky to the sea, and you grew quiet, inquisitive. When your father noticed, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I want to sail,” you replied, a visionary glaze coating your coffee eyes.

He stood beside you, his hand lightly squeezing your shoulder, overlooking the cerulean waves. “Then you will sail,” he affirmed.

He never twirled you around again, and you were perfectly fine with that.

Part II: Plumeria

When you were fifteen, your parents moved you to California and you had to put your shoes back on. Even though you lived within walking distance of the Pacific, the steaming asphalt scalded your feet and the water was dirty and the guffawing of seagulls frustrated you.

Once, you dared to lay your head to the ground to listen for a healthy, thrumming heartbeat below the surface. You began to notice how your soft breathing rustled the blades of grass, and when you blew harder they rocked like palm trees in a hurricane. For a moment, you were omnipotent, ferocious.

But then you closed your eyes. Took a deep breath. Listened.

Nothing.

The rush of traffic and the chattering of people on cell phones was all that reverberated in your ears. Everything was ragged and uneven and ugly.

“California is a death trap—an asthma attack!” you thundered, and you ripped a clump of grass out with your fist and sobbed until you were hoarse.

But one day, after you had become accustomed to the static and monochromatic concrete city, you witnessed a miracle. From the withering palm bush in your front yard, a dying creature you never deemed revivable, bloomed a kaleidoscope plumeria—

and you realized there was still Hope.

Part III: Kissed by the Sun

Your father used to pluck dandelions and rub them under your chin. Once, as he performed this ritual, as the petal’s playful nipping teeth tickled your neck, a grin broke across your face like a burning sunrise on the golden savanna. His eyes softened as he smiled and inquired,

“Do you love her, son?”

to which you responded, “I love the idea of her.”

It was May—a May of celebrating independence and growing your hair out and sleeping beneath a patchwork quilt on your back porch—the May the birds returned and you earned your sea legs. That was the May you held your head high, chin tilted toward the lens of your father’s camera, declaring, “I do not fear today nor tomorrow.”

That summer, your father set your bearings for Home, and the caress of Turkish sunshine on your skin was the same as in California.

Part IV: Rebirth of the Phoenix

Poised solitary, barefoot on the seaside cliff, you gazed toward the Mediterranean horizon. You plucked a wish flower from the ground and proclaimed, “My only real motivation in life is that everything has the potential to be beautiful,” before a tempest rushed from your lips, scattering the feather-fingered seeds like newborn spiders parachuting into the world.

Part V: Tenthousand Princes

Leaning nonchalantly against a light post, waiting for the traffic signal to flash to green, you suddenly panicked, throwing your hand up to your mouth, eyes darting back and forth suspiciously. It was too late though. I had seen it. You had coughed and a monarch had escaped your lips and fluttered away. “What just happened?” I asked, eyebrows arching, but you protested,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” coyly wiggling your way out of the predicament.

But I understand. I know what you are composed of:

Ten thousand butterflies. Ten thousand princes of the soil and sun. Each unique. Each distinct from his brothers, but all singing joyously the same philosophy:

The Earth is my Mother; the Sky is my Father.

But the light turned green before I could say anything more, and you disappeared smiling into the crowds of phone-babblers and chit-chatters.

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1.) This piece was styled different with an awesome Part I-V system, I'm not sure if that was due to the prompt. Nonetheless, it was touching with its basis of a child's relationship with their father. Every line virtually paints a vivid image. This work had me entered into it with its diction, such lines as "you had become accustomed to the static and monochromatic concrete city". Also, it has a sense of mystery to it so that not everything you read-you quickly understand. The contrast of the two locations of California and Turkiye, shows the universal struggle people have when coming somewhere new. Also, the word choice is poetic and I really enjoyed the idea of having it divided into parts. This piece inspired me to write something similar; it also made me wish to rewrite my project into such a manner, but I hadn't thought of this formation before.

2.) I absolutely loved this story, although loved is abstract. It was special because of its cleaver imagery that made me think twice, also with its witty lines such as “do you love her” … “I love the idea of her.” When reading this, you have to be careful to read slowly because there is so much to take in at every sentence. The story coming together in the end was great because it ties everything in to the girl. I liked how the story started off with the background info of the writer, got more complex as the story progresses on his background info then all of a sudden there is happiness to where he lives now due to the glimpse of the girl. I found it interesting how the writer broke up the structure into parts with titles – it made the story seem like a written play

3.) I thought this was the best piece because it was written so eloquently, and it came across as a beautiful poem. I like the fact that it was written differently, and so it kept my attention throughout the piece. The descriptions that came from each stanza was rich in detail, which was interesting to read. This was a piece that I had to read more than once because it was not only interesting, but it made me think. I also wanted to read it more than once, so I could grasp the meanings it held. One line that resonated very well within the poem, was when she described kneeling, and crying within the grass. It brought a direct image to my mind. Overall I felt this poem was written in a very artistic way which made it interesting to read.

4.) Love it. Love how she wrote it, outside of the box, trying a new approach that no one else did. Loved how it was broken into different parts, made it easy to read and understand. Loved the lifetime it covered even with the tight word limit. Love the images that connected to each age, ex no shoes when younger, having to wear them once the boy grew. I loved all of the quotations in it especially, ““My only real motivation in life is that everything has the potential to be beautiful,” . The imagery throughout it was so beautiful. When it ended, I felt sad, like I had lost something. I don’t know a 100% what the author was trying to convey though.

5.) This entire piece breathes sunshine. From Turkish beaches to the very different California sun to Monarch butterflies, it’s a teleportation to someplace brighter. Along with the visual clarity is a very honest voice, the sensation of all laid bare. The aspects of magical realism and the vignette format are compelling together, letting the scenes flow like a daydream.

Matt Ward gives me good news.

Chanel and I are officially going to be living in Falkirk, in a double occupancy double room. That means that there will be both of us in one room, and one or two girls living in another room (we're not sure who they are yet... eek!). I'm super excited because that's the one that we were shooting for and when we went to sign our contract, it was the only one left!! We get the last one! How totally awesome is that. Chanel is going to be the best roomie. ;)

I can't believe it. We're going to be living in our own apartment. I mean, yeah, we have to share, but we have to share OUR OWN APARTMENT. Wow. That sounds so weird. It's $380 a month, plus utilities and internet between us, PLUS parking, so I'll probably be paying around $400 a month, plus however much a parking space will cost. I'm stoked, to say the least.

I also registered for my spring classes yesterday. I hate being a freshman because they limit our classes (for example, psych and bio classes were only open to juniors and seniors, they've cut freshman and sophomores from English 1C classes, etc) and it's a scramble to get ANY classes that you actually need.

So, for spring quarter, I have 18 units:

-Computer Science 8 - Introduction to Computing (with Ben, Anthony, and Chanel!!!!!)

-Creative Writing 57A - Introduction to Fiction (workshop! which means there's only 15 people in this class!!!!)

-Islam Cultures

-Politics in the Underdeveloped World

So, by the end of first year, I will have a total of 56 credits (granted I pass my physics class, which I'm not very optimistic about... hopefully he curves the class, which I'm 80% sure he will at this point), putting me 11 units into a sophomore standing. WHOO!

I am getting on an airplane in two and a half hours for the first time, I will see my dog, my dad, Pops, my best friends...

Tomorrow is Germain's wedding, so that'll be like one giant family reunion in itself...

Sunday, King Tut exhibit with Moma and Mike and I get to see TROY AND ROBERT!

This is going to be an epic weekend.

February is the Pluto of the Roman Calender

This is how I figure it will go:

February is a great month! It's short and sweet and every four years there's an extra day added to February and everything is all good, right. Well, eventually people are going to be, like, February is like Pluto. It was cool for awhile, but then people decided that Pluto wasn't a real planet. Only 28 days? February isn't a real month! So then they're just going to break February up and add extra days to all the other months.

AND THEN THERE WILL ONLY BE ELEVEN MONTHS! And we all know that odd numbers are MUCH better than even numbers, and anyone who says otherwise doesn't know what they're talking about.

Time goes by fast these days. I don't like it. I'll be nineteen in less than three months. I feel like I just started college, yet I've only got about four months to go until I'm officially a second year. I'm getting an apartment... TOMORROW. I don't even know what I want to do with my life.

But it's all good. Nobody ever knows fershure what they want to do because THERE'S TOO MANY THINGS TO DO! I want to do everything! But I want to be a writer first and foremost, so that's where I'm at. I'm trying to get better.

In fact, today I resolve to write at least one thing everyday, short long poem story dialogue

--ANYTHING--

as long as I'm writing.

I'm probably going nowhere, but as long as I'm happy, nowhere's a beautiful place. :)

(P.S. I'm going so many places it's un-frickin'-believable!)

That's all I really have to say right now. I just got off the phone with Zachery and I'm talking to Jessica now, and then I'll do homework with Anthony and Ben and my crew of peoples, and then I'll go to the gym and it will have been an alright day.

Farethee well, February. It's been a cold month. Happy half-Birthday to Aydin, because the 29th isn't for two years. Two days of celebrating? Once they abolish February you'll have to move your birthday to March 1st officially. :P

AIGHT. PEACE.

Wednesday is a heartattack.

I am exhausted. I don't know what's going on, but I've just been really really tired for the past couple of days. I would write about what I've been doing but the only thing I would be writing about is homework and working out and hanging out with my friends while they play Call of Duty, which isn't very exciting. I WILL post an exciting blog this weekend, though, because it's been too long since I've reflected on the things that I've learned (or, maybe just a week) so it's about time I do that (and keep the fam updated through this stupid internet journalmajig).

But, yes. I'm tired. So very tired. I woke up at 9, decided I wasn't going to psychology (at 10), but then at 9:50 I woke up and felt guilty for even saying I wasn't going, so, of course, I got up and threw my shoes on, grabbed my backpack, and ran out. I didn't even have a chance to change my clothes because I might have missed Brittany and Jason (but not Ben because he missed class because he thought I wasn't going too, haha) on their way out. So, I went to psych. This is the first time in a week I haven't fallen asleep in that class. She's a boring lecturer and it's hard to stay awake through the drone of her voice, even though she thinks she's being exciting. I don't really fall asleep; when I hear her say something that I think is important, or when I know she's changed the slide, I'll open my eyes, take some notes, and then go back into my quasi-slumber.

Following psych, I went to physics, which was just another day in physics-- boring and confusing. Michael, Max's friend who is in my physics class, is probably the only reason I'm surviving in that class. Without his help, I would definitely fail everything in that class. The title deceived me: Color and Sound Dimensions in Communication! Oh cool! But no. What it meant was, "Let's spend 10 weeks together learning about light waves and sound waves, and let me do my best to confuse the living hell out of you." Physics has been successful in doing this.

After physics was Islam discussion. Harold (my T.A.) is a really cool guy, and it's great that we have him as a TA all year. Professor Aslan, although a well-respected, famous scholar, and a fantastic lecturer, is... a douchebag. I said it. He's an ass. He's so pompous and egotistical that it makes me sick. I have been excited for months for him to be my professor because he's a Creative Writing major-- and at first, it was awesome. Don't get me wrong, his CLASS is great, but his personality is definitely not what I was expecting. Reza Aslan is MEAN. He's publicly humiliated my peers in class, making them seem stupid. He doesn't care about any of us like Dr. Muhamad Ali did. I'm not sure if he cares about anything but Iran, Islam, his physical appearances, and his salary. He dresses really hip, super casual, but he's always got his nose turned up in the air, and he never looks any of his students in the eye-- he lectures to the back wall. Yesterday, Tuesday, was what officially made me stop and say, "Hey, Aslan is really not that cool at all." Yesterday, Professor Aslan was talking to our Harold about office hours, which we are required to attend for the program Islam is part of, and I heard him say this: "It's a cute idea, really it is, but I don't have the TIME to sit and talk to sixty KIDS." He has open office hours for a reason: for us to come talk to him, to ask him questions and clarify anything he says in lecture. But, really, who WANTS to go see a professor who intimidates you and makes you feel like crap because you're not the same level of brilliance as he is. At the end of lecture yesterday, here is another thing he said, "Oh, and one more thing. I swear to God, if I see another person texting while I am talking, I will take their phone and I will throw it out the goddamn window." Word for word, that's what he said. And I find it funny because the classroom doesn't even have windows. There's two doors, and that's it. So, I'm disappointed, but what can I do but accept the fact that he's a jerkface and move on.

After Islam discussion, I did homework for an hour, then walked to the student services building so I could take care of scholarship business, then did more homework. Then I went to the gym and did cardio for an hour. I've been good about going to the gym regularly, even on weekends (although I didn't go at all this past weekend, which I felt pretty guilty about) and I'm definitely getting into a lot better shape. My muscles are strengthening, and I can work out for an hour consistently and feel tired afterward, which is good. Tuesdays and Thursdays are ab attack still, and I have gone to every ab attack this quarter, and I'm going to buy her video so, when there is a time that I won't be able to go to ab attack, I will still be able to do it bi or triweekly so that my abs don't get super weak again. But, yeah, I actually like going to the gym. It helps me keep my stress down, or helps me get my mind of off problems when I am stressed, and it's healthy. I'm trying to eat healthier too, which is still pretty difficult with the meals served in the dining halls (tonight, they had potatos and fried chicken, haha), but I'm drinking lots of water and eating fruits and vegetables throughout the day instead of Cheez-Its (even though they're AWESOME). So yeah.

After gym, I did laundry and took a shower. Went to dinner. Got back, finished my laundry. Did more homework. And now, twelve hours after waking up, here I am, and I don't think I'll be going to sleep soon. It's a pretty chill night after this is done being written, but I'll probably be working on homework for another while-- Creative Writing and maybe psych.

Picking out classes for next quarter is going to be really hard. Everything's filling up fast and my registration date isn't for another week. Ugh. But, after that, I get to head up north for Germain's wedding, for King Tut, for Pancho and Aaron and Jessica and everything that is Perfect, everything that is Home. It's only two days, but it's going to be great.

It's coming quick too. I can't wait.

Creative Writing Project Part 2

Portrait of a Turkish Flower

Part I: Father and Son

When you were a boy in Turkiye, your father would pick you up, his great hands embracing yours, still young. He would wrap his fingers securely around your wrists and begin his tumultuous cycle, spinning in circles like a carousel, the world a blur surrounding you with his laughing face the only clarity before you.

“You,” your father encouraged, “are you going to fly someday.” You believed him.

Those days were always sunny and warm. Because you lived close to the sea, you reveled in being able to run free, shoeless and shirtless, basking in the warmth, soil clinging to the soles of your feet. Your gaze never turned away from the clouds.

As you grew older and nobler, your line of sight shifted from the sky to the sea, and you grew quiet, inquisitive. When your father noticed, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I want to sail.”

He stood beside you, his hand lightly squeezing your shoulder, overlooking the cerulean waves. “Then you will sail,” he affirmed.

He never twirled you around again, and you were perfectly fine with that.

Part II: Plumeria

When you were fifteen, your parents moved you to California and you had to put your shoes back on. Even though you lived within walking distance of the Pacific, the steaming asphalt scalded your feet and the water was dirty and the guffawing of seagulls frustrated you.

Once, you dared to lay your head to the ground to listen for a healthy, thrumming heartbeat below the surface. You began to notice how your soft breathing rustled the blades of grass, and you blew harder and they rocked like palm trees in a hurricane. For a moment, you were omnipotent, ferocious.

But then you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and listened. Nothing. The rush of traffic and the chattering away of people on cell phones was all that reverberated in your ears. Everything was ragged and uneven and ugly.

“California is a death trap—an asthma attack!” you thundered, and you ripped a clump of grass out with your first and sobbed until you were hoarse.

But one day, after you had become accustomed to the static and monochromatic concrete city, you witnessed a miracle. From the withering palm bush in your front yard, a dying creature you never deemed revivable, bloomed a kaleidoscope plumeria, the most beautiful flower you had ever seen—and you realized there was still Hope.

Part III: Kissed by the Sun

Your father used to pluck dandelions and rub them under your chin. Once, as he performed this ritual, as the petal’s playful nipping teeth tickled your neck, a grin (usually the reflection of sunlight on the moon) broke across your face like a sunrise (this is the real thing). His eyes softened as he smiled and inquired,

“Do you love her, son?”

to which you responded, “I love the idea of her.”

You must have lived outside that summer because your hair is sun-bleached, your head the embodiment of the laughter of summer. Head held high, you tilt your chin towards the lens of the camera as if to say, “I do not fear today or tomorrow.” The sun cups your cheek in his strong hands, humming congratulations.

Your father took you Home that summer, and the caress of Turkish sunshine on your skin was the same as in California.

Part IV: Rebirth of the Phoenix

Poised solitary, barefoot on the seaside cliff, you gazed toward the horizon where sky meets sea. You plucked a wish flower from the ground and proclaimed, “My only real motivation in life is that everything has the potential to be beautiful,” before a tempest rushed from your lips, scattering the feather-fingered seeds like newborn spiders parachuting into the world.

Part V: Tenthousand Princes

Standing on a street corner, waiting for the light to turn green, you suddenly panicked, throwing you hand up to your mouth, eyes darting back and forth suspiciously. It was too late, though. You had coughed and a monarch had escaped from your lips and fluttered away. I had seen it. “What just happened?” I asked, eyebrows arching, but you protested,

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” coyly wiggling your way out of the predicament.

But I understand. I know what you are composed of:

Ten thousand butterflies. Ten thousand princes of the earth and sun. Each unique. Each distinct from his brothers, but all singing joyously the same philosophy:

“The Earth is my Mother, the Sky is my Father.”

But the light turned green before I could say anything more, and you disappeared smiling into the crowds of phone-babblers and chit-chatters.