Vanilla Milkshake

Our assignment was to write a few paragraphs or the intro to a short story based on some dialogue we overheard. The dialogue that I picked up on was rather simple, but definitely could have been turned into a dirty joke if no one knew the context of the conversation: studying. So, here's the few paragraphs. I'm downright awful with dialogue. I've got to work on that. And I wonder why "dialogue" isn't in my computer's dictionary. It keeps telling me I've spelled it wrong.

Vanilla Milkshake

“Girls that have guys line up for them, and are completely oblivious to it, must have something wrong with them,” I complain to Zahara, who is seated on the bar stool next to mine. I can’t help but think this every time I’m in line at the Bank of America or in the Starbucks drive through. I guess you could say I’m impatient. Whenever I’m left waiting—for anything—I’ll find myself thrumming my fingertips on the closest available surface (right now, the side of my chilled mug of Blue Moon) or absentmindedly picking at the chipping pink polish on my fingernails. It comes naturally, I guess—my impatience. I’m impatient with stutterers and slow drivers; I’m impatient with people who can’t articulate, and boys who line up, and girls who are oblivious.

Like, the other night at dinner. It was me and Zahara and Zahara’s friend Beth. We went out to this new, quirky little corner café with rainbow Christmas lights hanging low from the ceiling and an all-Vegetarian menu (a magnet for deck hipsters) that we’d all been dying to try.

So, we sit down, and we’re about to order when, out of nowhere, Beth says, “Oh, I almost forgot, I invited Rob to dinner.” I don’t know Beth that well, but I know that guys line up for her like the apostles lined up for Jesus (she’s always got some new Matthew, Mark, Luke or John doting on her hand and foot).

Right about then, Rob rolls up in his black pea coat and his maroon corduroys and an expression on his face like he’s a Litebrite or something and Beth just shoved a ton of pegs into him and flicked his switch on. Seriously, this guy is fucking glowing.

So, Rob sits down diagonally from Beth, and you know what the first thing he says is? He says, “Was it better in the library or in the room? In the room, right?” He waits for a cue from Beth, a vigorous nod of her head and a toothy grin, before he continues, “Yeah, I thought so too!”

And now all I can think is, “What the fuck?” I’m trying to fight it, but I can tell that my eyes are shooting daggers at Zahara and she’s trying to keep her panicked expression under control by shrugging it off. But, seriously, all I can think about is how my jealousy is wringing my heart out like a wet sponge and shoving paper towels into my lungs to soak up all the oxygen and how I need to just keep breathing and smiling and keeping my cool or else, I swear to God, I’m going to kill Beth right now.

About then, I shove the straw of my vanilla shake into my mouth, take a quick, heated glance between Rob and Beth, and suck the freezing liquid down my throat.

There is Nothing After This

I've been in a bad mood all week. I don't know what's going on, but it seriously needs to stop. I'm not digging the bad mood thing, especially since I'm typically a pretty cheery person these days, and now that all of my friends have been asking what's up with me, I'm even more determined to get out of this bad mood.

I guess, maybe, I feel lazy. I dropped my Politics of the Underdeveloped World class. I had 18 units and now I have 13. All of my classes were writing based, and I felt like it was way too much. I still have 8 AP units to make up for it. If I disperse all of those, it's like I took 17 units each quarter this year. That's still 51 units by the end of the quarter, which still has me into sophomore standing by 6 units, and I'm definitely going to make up for it next year.

I also haven't been going to the gym. Going to the gym alone really sucks,, but I'm going to have to start doing it again because I feel gross and there is no way that I'll ever be able to convince someone to go with me everytime. I'm going to do Cardio Kickboxing on Monday and Wednesday with Hali (and possibly Chanel?) and Ab Attack on Thursdays. Zumba is also on Tuesday and Thursday, but it starts at 6:30 and that's when I get out of class, but I want to try it out. I haven't gone running in a few days either, which makes me feel bad. I really want to run that course with Aunt Jessica and Indiana this summer. I guess that should be motivation enough to get up and do it. I will. I told myself I was going to run because I love running, and I do! I'm just not motivated at all right now.

Next week is Coachella, and I honestly don't think I'm going. That's fine, but I was really looking forward to it. There are so many bands that I absolutely LOVE there this year, and it's so close. I guess I shouldn't be disappointed. It was never a fershure thing anyway, and now I'm just complaining. On top of this, Good Luck Thrift Store Outfit is playing Strawberry, THE WEEK BEFORE FINALS WEEK. Strawberry last year was one of the best times of my life, and I can't believe I'm going to miss it this year.

I'm missing too much. I hate this place. I don't really, but I'm a Family based person. I'm missing shows and weddings and babies and just hanging out with everyone on the Tea Farm. I miss Pancho and Aaron and Pops and my Moma (and it's going to be even longer until I see her).

I'm homesick, and it's only the beginning of the third week of school. I guess I'm going home for Mary's wedding on the 24th, but that's also a predicament: I don't want Aaron to have to drive down here and pick me up after work, drive back up there, go to Mary's wedding the next day, then drive me back down and himself back up on Sunday. That's about 1600 miles in two days, which is bad on the car and a total waste of time. I've been trying to find cheap plane tickets, but I am having no success in finding one that is cheap enough. I also have no clue of how to search for plane tickets and I haven't been on the phone with Aaron long enough to actually talk about it. It always seems like I'm busy or he's busy or I'm busy or he's busy, back and forth the whole week.

After that, I only have six or seven weeks of first year of college left. It's going to fast. It's like, I wake up, I go to class, I see what everyone's up to, I do my homework, on some days I go to the gym, I do more homework, then I do my own thing. I mean, I love it here. I absolutely love all of my friends and I'm going to miss all of them so much over the summer; it's good almost all of us are from Norcal, so I know that we're probably going to hang out at least once over the summer. I didn't think I would get so close to people. At the beginning of the year, I was so determined to get the hell out of Riverside, and now I would never think of leaving. I love it here. Now that I've been here and I have a solid group of friendies to do anything with, it's great. Sure, there's not that much to do in Riverside and we usually have to make up our own thing to do, but that's what's fun. It makes us more personal.

At the same time, though, I feel like I'm losing touch with all my friends at Home, which CANNOT HAPPEN. I miss them all so much, but our relationships with one another definitely aren't the same. Maybe it's just me. I don't know. I feel like I'm going to have to work pretty damn hard this summer to get to KNOW all of them again, which shouldn't have to happen. Less so with the Tonks to my Remus, which is weird, but most definitely with Sarah. I have barely talked to Sarah all year, which I think about a lot. I've seen and talked to Bethany so much more than I've communicated with Sarah, and she's my oldest friend; she's been like my sister for a long time, and suddenly... I don't know. I know it's going to fine when we both get Home and start hanging out again, but I miss her now. I've missed her for most of the year, and I don't know why we don't talk more. We're both busy people, doing our own thing.

I guess I'm just being a pessimist. I need to get it together. The sun's out! I've been barefoot for two days! My writing is getting better all the time! I have an apartment next year! I have the best roomie EVER next year! I'm getting two hamsters this summer, and Chuck, Hiroko, Mia, and Ana are coming to visit for a month!

It's time for me to get my head straight and my act together. It's time for me to play my guitar in the room even though it's a violation of policy and time for me to go to the gym this afternoon and time for me to eavesdrop on some conversations so that I can write an awesome Creative Writing piece for tomorrow. It's time for me to call Aaron and Moma and my Grandpa. It's time for me to write Papou a letter and Bon Farley a postcard. It's time for me to be myself again.

This whole bummed-out Heaven thing is not going down anymore.

Zombie Leftovers: For Jessica DeTomasi

This is the first piece I've written for my Creative Writing: Intro to Fiction class. I plan on making it a full-on short story eventually. I guess you're just going to have to deal with the foul language from now on.

Madison Valencia carried a shotgun. She carried a machete. She carried a sewing kit, a scalpel, a blue moon tattoo on her wrist, and two-hundred-sixty-five-home-made-third-degree-burn skin grafts across her body. She carried her father's last name and, after the incident, it had become who she was. After Madison Square Garden burned, she ditched the first name; after she had come home one afternoon to find her gray, deteriorating father smothered in blood and advancing on her from the sunlight filled kitchen; after she had loaded a round into the barrel of the shotgun and feebly stuttered, "I-I-I'm doing th-this bec-c-cause I-I-I-I-I love you," ; after she had blown his fucking brains out. That was when the outbreak had turned into an epidemic. And because of globalization-because of the Internet and airports and fast food restaurants, because of oppression and censorship and because the government could never quite wrap their heads around the fact that Reaganomics screwed the working class-the epidemic had turned into the apocalypse. So, Valencia: Valencia was all she had left, the identity she struggled to maintain, the childhood memories she desperately clung to-but after a teenage daughter has to blast the mindless gourd off of her own father's decayed body, it's not so much about reflection anymore than it is about survival.

Valencia stood poised on the hill watching the city burn below. The skyscrapers engulfed in flames stretching toward the red and black sky, ash rain falling all around her like leaves in autumn or flower petals at a wedding-this was Hell, and it was beautiful. She fingered the matchbook in the pocket of her leather jacket. This was her doing. This was the world now: fire and murder and constant movement-collaborating with fellow survivalists in urban regions and travelling alone through sparsely populated lands. New York had burned; Chicago had burned; D.C. and New Orleans and San Francisco. Every major city was a now crematorium. She carried the weight of thousands of tons of bricks and concrete and shattered glass and the dead and dying dreams of a young idealist. She carried a sketchpad, drawing pencils, crumpled song lyrics, headphones. She did not carry an iPod. The crackles and pops of the dying embers of a city reduced to ash and rubble were her lullaby.

In Seattle, she had stolen a leather-bound copy of the Necronomicon from the public library before she had torched it. She kept it in her backpack. On cold nights, she would take it out and thumb through the pages and look at the India ink script on the thin, yellowing pages. She carried the words, but she never read them- Lovecraft's fantasy was nothing like reality. At the same time, it was everything. Corpses reanimated. She carried the incantations, but she had lost her imagination. There was no magic left in the world. There was no magic; there was just a virus and a lot of people got sick and before she knew it she was alone and there were zombies everywhere. There were fucking zombies everywhere. She carried the virus exceptionally close. She collected tattoos. It was dangerous. It was stupid. For every zombie that had come close to killing her, she checked for tattoos. First was her father's. After his brain had been successfully destroyed, she carved the Celtic cross from his arm with her scalpel and stitched it over her heart. She was no surgeon. She gagged at the sight of blood. Her first patchwork-her father's cross-grew infected. It oozed pus. If she moved wrong, the skin would tear and bleed. Her skin around it had begun to gray. The virus was slowing eating through her flesh from the outside in. After she learned about cremation, after she had burned her first town-her hometown-she thrust the blade of her machete into the flames, allowed the metal to glow white-hot, then held the burning steel to her infected wound, cauterizing it. Over the past two years, of the thousands of zombies that she had destroyed, she had collected two-hundred-sixty-five tattoos, but her father's was her favorite. She was her own Necronomicon, bound in human skin and inked in blood. She carried the natural cycle of life and death externally, but she carried oxygen in her lungs and blood in her veins and perseverance in her spirit. She left destruction behind her.

But destruction meant survival. Survival meant life. Her father had once told her to cherish life, for life is beautiful. These were only threads that Valencia could knot together anymore, the only understanding that kept her human: if life is beautiful, then destruction must be equally as beautiful. She turned her back to the blazing city and walked away. She did not look back.

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.