Roll with the punches

There's something to be said about hardships. We groan and cry and curse whenever we encounter them, but really, without such difficulties in life, we wouldn't have goals, motivation, and perseverance. 

When a goal is made, it almost guarantees a bumpy journey. But if you weren't willing to roll with the punches, you wouldn't have even let yourself get in the ring. The good thing about such a certainty is that it makes the victory that much sweeter once it's acquired. If all things in life were easy, nothing would give us that thrill, the champagne bottles wouldn't break open, and the cheering wouldn't be so loud. Eh, that wasn't so hard; I set forth to accomplish a task, now it's done, onward to the next thing. But if you set a goal that required a journey instead of a walk around the park, the finish line would be all the more rewarding.  

I set a goal to go to a university instead of following the tide into community college. A more expensive way to go, perhaps, but I was determined. I sent out applications, wrote my essays, applied for scholarships, completed my FAFSA, sent my transcripts, saved my money and waited. It was a lot of work and difficult to persuade some of my methods, but I am now about to attend the university of my choice in the Fall, and I know that it'll all be worth it.

Sometimes I think about college and get a funny feeling. Do I really want to do this? Is it worth the money, flying so far away and missing all my friends and family? I knew from the beginning this undertaking wasn't going to be easy, but like I said, it'll just make the end result sweeter. I still have a ways to go. FAFSA proved to be worthless as they never offered me a dime since I'm not considered an independent, and all loans are based on good credit scores, of which I have none. But eventually a way was provided. I'll have to work my butt off during school and in the summer, but I've come to terms with what will need to be done. Some people have it a lot worse, so who am I to complain? 

I guess mainly what I'm trying to say is that if things get rough, don't give up. I write that and I feel like I'm giving a cheesy pep talk, but it's true. And while the road may have a lot of pot holes, things are a whole lot better when you have support. Prayer, friends, or even just an encouraging word will go a long ways, so don't by any means start a journey unequipped and solo thinking that you'll be heroic, it'll just make things a lot more difficult. Set your sights, run the race, expect a few falls, learn and enjoy the experience. 

On my own: Part Two

Waiting at the airport... waiting... and waiting

So after all that's happened between now and when I wrote my last blog, I think there's enough reason for a little update.

No sooner had I posted my optimistic blog about the future and newly discovered freedom with this trip, I began to get my latest update on my flight that was supposed to leave at 5:30 to get to my connecting flight in Denver. It was delayed a whole two hours because of a storm. This didn't bother me at first. What did I care if I had to wait a couple extra hours; I had been able to occupy myself thus far, so I would be able to find something to do with the extra time. Little did I know how much extra time I would have.

As it got closer to 7, I heard an announcement saying how if we had connecting flights that were supposed to go to San Antonio amongst some other places that we needed to see the information counter to reschedule our flight. In other words, we weren't gonna make it into Denver in time to get to our connecting flights. I still took this in stride; as long as I could reschedule another flight, shouldn't be too big a deal. So, I went up to the counter to take care of the situation. When it was my turn to ask how I could reschedule to get into San Antonio that night, the silence and worried looks I got were beginning to spell out for me that this wouldn't be an ordinary fix.

After a few minutes of the clerk looking at her computer screen, she told me that there were no other flights leaving Denver or Philadelphia that could get me back home tonight. The best she could do was reschedule a flight that would leave the following morning from Denver to Phoenix and then finally to San Antonio. In other words, I wasn't going anywhere tonight. Again, no worries, I had a new flight plan, I would just find a hotel that the airline should supply me with, spend the night, and leave in the morning. No such luck.

The way up to Denver was a four hour long flight, but it wasn't so bad. I had reading material, was able to fill up on peanuts and crackers, and talked with a very nice couple to fill the time. Normally I would rather not talk with random people sitting next to me in a contained area (if there was an awkward silence, there was no way out, you just had to sit there and endure it), but these people were very easy to talk to and even offered to stay with me in Denver until I knew what I was doing. We landed, left the plane, and walked into a terminal full of chaos.

Apparently their computers had crashed and so practically all of Denver's planes were on delay until they were able to reboot the system. Needless to say, it was a confusing scene as clerks were dashing here and there trying to fix the situation while there was a lot of people around waiting (many of them not especially happy). Thus seeing it was going to take a while, I thanked the couple and told them that I would be fine by myself, and joined in a long line of people who were waiting to be seen at the information counter. Once it was finally my turn I explained my situation and asked if they could set me up with any hotels. They asked me what the reason for delay was, and I truthfully answered that it was a storm. Wrong answer apparently (truth didn't set me free this time) as she kindly explained that since it was weather related, the airline couldn't compensate me with a complimentary hotel or even a meal ticket. That being said, she did give me a number to call to see if there were any rooms available for me to book in the area and that I should head down to ground transportation for a shuttle to pick me up.

Now the Denver International Airport is a big place. I mean, you have to take a train just to get from terminal to terminal. So I was a little concerned for myself (again, directionally challenged) when she listed off a long line of directions on how to get to ground transportation. Amazingly enough, I was able to repeat what she said and eventually find my way to the exit doors. It is important to note that I never went past the exit doors, but remained inside to make my call.

So. I made the call. Unfortunately since a lot of other planes had been delayed, this meant that while I was figuring out how to get to ground transportation, other passengers were booking their hotels. The person on the other line informed me that there weren't really any rooms available in the area. There was one, but it was 25 miles away, cost $130, and did not have a shuttle, so I would've had to obtain a taxi. This sounded like a bad expensive plan that would probably end with me sleeping in and missing my flight, so I politely declined and said that I would find another option. But that was just it, I was out of options. The only option I had left was to spend the night in the terminal.

Ok. If Tom Hanks could do it for months, I could certainly survive for one night.

So, I turned around to retrace my steps back to where I came from. I was immediately stopped by two security guards.

"Can we help you with anything ma'am?"

"Um, I'm just going back to my terminal because I wasn't able to get a room for the night, so no thanks, I should be able to find my way."

"Yeah, no, we can't allow to go back this way; you have to go back through security."

This slightly annoyed me. I looked from them to the exit sign that I clearly had not passed and then back to them. They were serious. So, I said ok, and they directed me (the wrong way I might add) to the security line. Up to this point I had been pretty cool about everything. As long as I had a plan and things were able to fixed, there was no reason to freak out. This was an adventure after all, so I had accepted it as much. However, the line to go through security was pretty extensive.

 I finally made it close to the front where the line broke off into three separate lines for security to check your ID and plane ticket. I was in one line, decided it was too long and switched at the last minute. When I realized I made a wrong decision as the line I had been in sped on forward and the one I was in was at a stand still I began to feel really distressed. My flights had been delayed, I had been walking around carrying my luggage all day (not the kind with wheels), so I was tired, I had to spend the night in the terminal, and to top it all off, I had chosen the wrong line. Keep it together, I told myself, it's not the end of the world. And it wasn't, I just needed to get to where I was going and sit down a bit.

Finally I made it to the terminal, and settled in for the long night. It was close to 11pm by then, my flight left at 7 in the morning. Since the chairs all had arm rests, I couldn't lay on the chairs, so I laid down on the ground and curled up trying to get comfortable  I managed to get a couple of restless hours, but soon woke up as the cleaning crew rumbled by on their vacuum cleaners. Everyone was gone. It was an interesting feeling being able to wander around with no one in the area. I walked around, I read, watched a movie, even did some hand stands and cart wheels (why not, right?) and was able to survive the next hours on low sleep occupying myself in various ways and texting random people to see if they were still up, until I finally made it home.

This doesn't in any way change what I said before about my being excited to be on my own. I am still looking forward to the future, for the good and bad. If anything, this whole experience has just prepared me further. Now anything will seem like a piece of cake! God was with me the entire time, friends and family were able to pass the time and were very supportive and comforting from a distance. So really, I guess what I took away from this whole debacle is that even though I am finally going to be able to go out and live my life on my own and make my own decisions, I am still glad that when difficult times come, I am never alone and will look forward sharing my life as I live it (good and bad) with those that I care about who will always be around to listen and have my back.

On my own... Almost

It’s interesting how many different individuals come and go through an airport, each with their own destination and story. Kids are running rampant with no care in the world, laptops are open everywhere, phones constantly in use. This is such a technology run world. I guess it’s no wonder that many apocalyptic premises are set with an ultimate loss of power and all things electronic. There would be panic, blood would be had- can you imagine how the stock market would crash? not that it would really matter anymore. Money had never really been worth anything more than a number on a screen and a piece of paper. All gone, and really who would be surprised that chaos would ensue to bring the world down into corruption and destruction?

But anyways, I digress. Airports is on my mind because I am currently stuck in one for about six hours until my plane leaves. So I figured, I’ve got time, nothing better to do, why not update my blog? Certainly haven’t done that in a while. So here I am, in the Philadelphia airport, headed back home to Texas. Why am I so far from home? Well I’m glad you asked (I mean you didn’t, but you were probably thinking it, so I asked myself for you; considerate huh?).

I came on this excursion to go to my college’s summer orientation. I won’t go into details for boredom’s sake (who really cares about math and English placement tests, setting schedules, and taking student photo ID’s? again, considerate;), but I will say a little, because this trip was kind of monumental for me. This would be the first time I would really be travelling by myself.

Okay, so for many of you this may not be a big deal, but if you knew me, you would marvel that I’ve made it this far. I’m what many would call “directionally challenged”; not as bad as some, just not as capable as others. I have a hard enough time navigating the roads at home (wrong turns, passing up my exit, exiting too early, almost went down a one way even). So you can imagine the nervous looks I received when I announced that I would be flying from San Antonio to St. Louis, changing planes from there to Philly (met my brother for a day here, but then was soon on my own again as he had to leave early), then train to Glenside, walk to campus, find my room, leave the next morning back to the train, to the airport, to the right terminal, to Denver, change flights, and arrive back home. Sounds intimidating and confusing all right in a row like that, but so far, with God’s help and GPS, I’ve been able to survive. Hit a few bumps here and there, but made it.

This was an exciting experience. You hear a lot about how “you’re an adult now” and how “you have responsibilities now”, but really you don’t feel like you have that freedom until moments like this. In the question and answer session, someone (ok, me) asked if there was a curfew for when you had to be back at the dorms. At this they laughed and said of course not! you’re adults, so we’re not babysitting you. And that’s when it hit me. I could leave campus without having to be back at a certain time, without having to rely on somebody else to get back in. It was all up to what I decided. I tried this theory out while I was there. They allowed me to stay in one of their rooms, but orientation finished at about 4:30, so I had a key, and had the whole day to do whatever. So I decided to take a walk.

This walk ended up being a three hour long stroll with some disappointments along the way, but even though I was exhausted when I got back, I was happy. I didn’t have to check in, didn’t have to explain where I went, I just went back to the room and crashed. Orientation made me excited for a lot of things, but most of all, I’m excited to finally be starting my life as I take this 1700 miles away from home step forward. It will be hard, it will be expensive, but I am content to trust God and make this my first independent decision. Like I said, it may not seem like a big deal to some of you, but to me, it’s a great first step to make.

Any Number Can Die

Our theatre program did the murder-mystery-comedy Any Number Can Die play last night, and, while it certainly didn't seem so at the time, I think we did a pretty good job. Granted, there was lots of ad libbing, stress, and confusion as nobody quite knew what was going on, but, as is the case with most things, we can look back now and laugh. 

After a very rough first act, those familiar words came out as we gathered together behind stage during intermission; I don't know what happened. But then again, we did know what happened: jitters. Much like the reoccurring lyrics in George Michael's Wake Me Up, the jitterbug had invaded the scene (no pun intended). It was the first time ALL of the cast was there, on stage, in costume with a full audience. When someone skipped their lines, it threw things off, and we were forced to mentally try to figure out what was supposed to come next without letting anyone else know. Like I said before: stressful. But we got through it, and the amazing thing was that the audience had no idea and loved every bit. And as I think back now, with all the practices, the costume hunting, and set building, I loved every bit of it too.

Our first play in the Fall (Antogone) was interesting, but not as fun as it was a Greek tragedy where most everyone died after giving long, solemn speeches. The fact that we had to perform it for a contest where all odds were against us with annoying people and situations at every corner just made it a grim circumstance to look back to. And we didn't mess up those lines hardly at all. While the process with this play has certainly not been as smooth as we would've hoped with a nonexistent budget and an unpredictable cast, this play is one for the books. Experience is important, and being in theatre this year has really provided a new perspective on things for me. There was a lot of work put into this play, and it may not have been perfect, but I am glad for the relationships that were able to be formed, and for the bonding that took place. Friends are easily gained in ideal situations, but by now we all know that true friendship is determined when it remains strong even in times of turmoil.

The play may not have gone according to plan... but then, when is life ever predictable? In my experience  the not knowing is what makes life an adventure worth living;)

Hannibal's first clue 

Agatha (me) smugly confronting Hannibal

"Environmental Dust"- Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

The Daily Mirror
April 12, 2022


It seems, according to most spectators, that the earth has reached a new glory. The Green Life Act was passed by congress nearly a week ago, and already the progress is astounding. Environmentalist Sarah Thistle comments that this is "a big step forward for the earth and the betterment of society. People may not realize the full effect this act will have, but I think that nothing but good can come out of it." The Green Life Act states that "no harm or belligerent act shall come to any plant life within the United States region. If any plant is cut, trampled, or its growth is impeded in any way, fines will be issued, and imprisonment may be enforced depending on the severity of the crime." 

The law was put into immediate effect, but while some are singing its praises, there are others who are not so enthusiastic. Opposition and protesting has been on rise as a new group against this movement has formed known as "The Red Patriots." Hank Seller, one of the founders and a known libertarian, states that "nothing good can come out of this environmentalist wacko nonsense. Our founding fathers understood that there's a process to this world, and wrote the Constitution accordingly. God gave man a responsibility to take care of the world, but also to be available to provide for mankind to use in day to day functions which are necessary to run this country. Next thing you know they'll be shutting down all the oil companies and raising taxes on everything that is not considered 'Eco friendly'. All this is doing is mucking up the system." 

Thus, the question has been put forth. Will the Green Life Act lead the United States in its next stage of evolution for the better, or will it impede its ability to progress as a nation? Time will tell, although optimism is on the rise as people are ready for the world to be a better place.


Anna couldn't move her machete fast enough to cut through the blankets of leaves, thorns, and weeds. They had been walking through foliage for hours now--this was getting ridiculous. Charlotte walked behind her sister as she tucked the old newspaper away in her pocket. There was a penalty for having un-recycled paper these days, but as she watched her sister cut through the plant life with fury, she knew that would be the least of their problems.

They had been walking in silence save for Anna's occasional grunt and groan of annoyance as more leaves continued to block their path. There was no energy for talk right now (conversations would come later with rest). Charlotte had offered to take take turns clearing the path--although she was younger, she was at least four inches taller and had a more sturdy build-- but Anna would stubbornly decline. "I'm fine," she would say, although Charlotte knew that the high oxygen levels had to have been making her light headed. But she didn't fight; she never did.

Before things had changed, life was simple, so simple. The problems of the world used to be who would clean the room, and who would eat the last brownie. Charlotte was organized, quiet, and clever, and Anna was creative, funny, and eccentric. The two were as thick as thieves, and couldn't have had a care in the world. After the incident though, they were both forced to be more responsible about things--their lives depended on it. Frankly, Charlotte was surprised that they were still alive. The small things were important, and noticing the details had never been a strong suit of theirs.

It hadn't always just been the two of them. A family friend had accompanied them at the beginning  He was nice and showed them how to eat the right berries. But then Anna had seen a Green badge slip out of his coat pocket, and grew suspicious. They both left the next night while he was sleeping, and hadn't seen another human being since. It wasn't safe, Charlotte knew, for two girls of 16 and 20 years of age to be travelling the woods of Pennsylvania alone, but what choice did they have? They both walked on.

"Do you know where you're going?" Charlotte finally asked.

"No, I'm just going this way for fun." Ah, sarcasm. 

"Are you?"

Silence.

"Well can we stop for a sec, I need to go."

"No, you always take too long. You can hold it until we stop."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." It was always nothing. If Charlotte thought about it too much, she would get mad that Anna wouldn't press her further to see if it were really nothing (which it never was). But that would only complicate things, so Charlotte would let things be. Anna would often chastise her for not speaking her mind more often. It's not like she would listen if she did; speaking her mind was only good for times of boredom, or if they were important. A loud crack of metal against rock interrupted her thoughts.

"Ahh! Who put this rock here?" the machete was on the dirt, and Anna was holding her arm in pain. "Ugh, stupid." Charlotte watched as her sister gave a look of defiance at the boulder obstructing their path, and she couldn't help but chuckle. Anna turned her head in annoyance. She wanted to stay angry, Charlotte could tell, but a smile soon spread and as she laughed as well. With how serious the world had become, it was good to laugh. These were good times. Anna picked up the machete with a thin, shaking arm and offered it to Charlotte. "Here, your turn."

Charlotte was reaching for the knife when she saw her sister's smile fade, and her eyes grow wide. She was looking beyond her, slowly crouched down, and motioned for Charlotte to do the same. "What?" she mouthed, but Anna just put a finger to her lips.

Something was coming.

And so it ends...

...but with quite a different outcome than T.S. Eliot would've intended. Today, my last official day of high school, ended, not with a whimper, but with a bang.

The start of the day was a little rocky when I woke up to find that I had slept through my alarm (what else is new really) and was going to be an hour late to school. It didn't bother me terribly--it was my last day, so any menial form of misconduct would basically be overlooked. It had been raining hard all night and morning, so I dressed accordingly relishing the opportunity to wear my trench coat (it's only once in a blue moon in Texas that one gets to sport this particular style of awesomeness), but when I walked outside, the rain had stopped, and the sky was clearing. While I didn't get to wear the classic attire, I looked at the shining sun, took it as a sign, and smiled: today was going to be a good day.

And it really was.

As expected, there was no classwork to be had, but instead I was able to spend quality time with friends, watch part of Star Wars for the first time (this seems to be a big surprise for most, so shut up- I know), watch an entertaining basketball game, and see a great movie (Pans Labyrinth) after school with good company. There was no stress, no drama, and nothing bothersome; it was simply a good day to relax and embrace everything.

Spending 13 years at the same school may seem like a long time, but when I look back, it is true what everybody says; it goes by in the blink of an eye. Filled with memories (good, bad, intriguing, funny, embarrassing, and interesting to say the least), friends, inspiring teachers, lessons (academic and pertaining to real life), lots of change, stories, movies, and so much more, I wouldn't trade these years for anything. It may have seemed annoying and rough at times, but as graduating seniors, we can say that we made it and are now on our way to new and exciting things.  

Music is often a good way to express a feeling, and the songs that came on as I drove home were perfect. I smiled when U2's "It's a Beautiful Day" came on and turned up the volume. The sky was darkening with storm clouds, but on the horizon there were breathtaking cloud formations in varying shades of pink and blue. With the windows rolled down I could smell the fresh air and feel the cooling wind that arrives with impending rain. It was a beautiful day, and the perfect atmosphere to end the school year; as is the way that all good stories usually end, I was given the chance to ride off into the sunset. Michael Buble then came on singing about how "the best is yet to come" in perfect succession. Friends will be missed, memories cherished, and tears shed for what is being left behind. But never fear, with college and a whole life to be lived ahead, it's important to realize that yes... the best is yet to come.

"Environmental Dust" (Preface)

Every other Thursday there is a special haven where a select group of writers like to go to in order to express their thoughts. This creative writing club is highly exclusive and only allows the most elite to join in on the discussions of sophisticated ideas to put towards the written word... I kid. This is actually a very laid back writing group where I go either to talk about books, read each other's writings, or simply talk about the daily happenings of life. I look forward to this time every time it comes around as it's a unique opportunity to talk and read with some really cool people. However, I admit that I haven't brought any new stories as of late as I have not had the time or inspiration to do so. With the school year coming to a close, however, I find that I have more of each of those now, and so have decided to present a certain story line I've been thinking about for some time within my blog for you, dear reader.

I presented this idea at the beginning of the year within our writing group, but I soon abandoned it as I no longer felt it unique enough to continue. It had begun as something simple, and I had over thought the plot, made things too complicated, and decided against writing it. However, months later I find I am willing to come back to it, but not as the complicated mess it had been left as, but rather as the simple version from which it began. This time I'm not going to plan ahead with what happens next; I will just write and see where the story leads me.

So, without further ado...

Environmental Dust

PREFACE

From tiny seed the Great Oak began. From nearly nothing came life. When a plant starts to grow, it desires nutrients from the earth, thirsts for water from the sky, and absorbs energy from the sun. Most of all, though, when that tiny seed releases that first root, it needs time. Much can happen if time is given; all one has to do is wait. Decisions, emotions, growth, bonds, catastrophes, cities, the world—life revolves around time, although sometimes we forget.

Is it so unheard of then, if time was allowed to pass without interference, that the unexpected would take place? None would know for sure unless they waited to see, and patience is a rare thing.

A tree supplies the perfect environment to sustain life for many creatures. The bugs, birds, squirrels, and even humans thrive off this little piece of creation. Though time would have us forget, there once was a tree that sustained life beyond what could have been imagined. Not only did it provide for the organisms around it, a new creature was forming within it. Beneath the bark, nourished by the soil, water, and sun, a child grew. She was of human appearance in every way, and yet still remained very much a part of the vegetation that nurtured her. If the tree had been cut down, destroyed, she would've perished as well without anyone knowing of the loss. But if she were given time, she would grow slowly with the tree into maturity until she was able to breath the air outside the bark for herself.

This tree was the oldest the earth had ever known, and had been given time—lots of time to be able to nurture this child into a woman, who was nearly ready to breathe the air for the first time. All that was required was the perfect environment.

From a tiny seed her life began.

Little did she know, however, that from nearly nothing she would fall. 

Inspiration: The Notorious Epiphany

You ever have that moment when you have an innate moment of realization that just completely, for lack of a better phrase, blows your mind? Some may recognize this as the renowned instant of inspiration that the creatively inclined desire for in order to influence their work to make it great--the epiphany.

This is a rare occurrence (I mean, if it were an everyday thing, it wouldn't have such a renowned reputation), and thus is to be grasped and held onto upon inception. I myself can remember one time when one came upon me. I was so excited that I simply had to tell someone about it. The only one in the room was my mother, so I attempted to explain the great moment of transcendence which had struck my brain. For those of you who have experienced the epiphany, you'll know what I'm talking about when I say that it makes a lot more sense in my head as opposed to on my tongue. I found myself stumbling over my words, trying desperately to make her understand just how magnificent this thought was--to no avail. All I received was a blank stare as it failed to offer the same effect.

Inspiration is a funny thing. There have been countless books, articles, and speeches written on this subject on how to gain this kind of revelation. Is this really something that is able to be attained by following a set of steps? How exactly does one acquire this state of mind? When I show people my art, one of the first things they ask me is "what was your inspiration?" Unable to answer them right away, I had to take a moment to really think about it. How was I inspired? It's not really something I think about when I'm actually painting or drawing; some things I create simply because I personally think it would look cool. Does personal taste count as inspiration? Perhaps not, but I am still able to function with it all the same. Why do we need this great moment of clarity then? It is then that I am able to think of the projects when I did have this marvelous feeling. I think the best way to describe it, is that it just makes things easier. With its presence, the process suddenly seems simple in all of it's complexity. A newly found joy is present, and the creativity just flows in a way that doesn't seem like the tedious work it feels like other days. The epiphany just adds to this and lasts a little bit longer--it is why it is so coveted.

Now I know that some of you may be wondering, what exactly was my astounding epiphany? Well, even though I hate it when people do this and I apologize accordingly, my lips are sealed on that subject. I already tried to explain it once and failed, so I would be doing you a disservice to set it up to fail again. It's like when someone builds something up so much, greatness is the only thing expected. Then once the content of their tall tales is revealed, if it isn't described properly to match the built up assumption, disappointment is then quick to follow. I believe that an epiphany should be a closely guarded secret; something to tap into from your own personal reservoir of inspiration so to say for those times when none of your creativity seems to sound amazing enough. If this secret was divulged, a little piece of something special would be lost in the inability to explain it. Inspiration is not always around, but when it is, it's imperative

that we make the best of its presence and hold on to what we can to save for future bland moments--and therein lies the key to the creative process. 

[These are a couple of my art pieces; the one of the left is one I completed with Inspiration on my side; the one on the right was done because it was assigned--notice any differences?]

The Ticket

So I recently looked over my first post and saw all that had been promised forth within concerning the contents and layout of this blog and would like to clarify the turn it has taken. Obviously I have not been posting drawings or reviews for "books without pictures" as this requires time, which I don't always have. In order to think of illustrations to do, one must first read a book in its entirety, which I have not done for a few months now (consequently, I have started and not finished about six different books, but this is pretty normal for me--what can I say? I get distracted). But, I've decided not to worry about sticking with formalities; it is, after all, my blog, so I will post what I will, and that will be that.

Thus having said that...

I've been thinking about my speeding ticket lately. Is it just me, or have there been more cops on patrol lately? As I was driving to the store today, I saw about three different flashing lights. Anyways that, and the fact that my defensive driving deadline is rapidly approaching, caused me to think about the actual day when I was pulled over myself, and I had to laugh at how insignificant it all seems now, and what a big deal it was when it happened. And then I remembered that I had written an entry the night after to just get my thoughts on paper. As I read it now, I feel slightly ridiculous and feel the need to apologize for how trivial this may be for probably most who read this, but then perhaps it will be pathetically entertaining, or... something. Anyways, without further ado, my recount of my first ticket...

"Something happens to a person when they receive their first speeding ticket. As those flashing lights come up as you’re driving, a surreal feeling of guilt comes over your being as you realize that those sirens are meant for you and not some other law breaking vagabond.The world becomes more real and dangerous as you realize that yes, the law applies to you too. I am not a law breaking vagabond, or a speed demon on the roads (not really). I do prefer to go fast as opposed to a granny slow, but I automatically cease pressing down my pedal once I’m about five miles over. This was the night when my innocence was snatched away and I felt as if I had become part of that crowd. A big deal? Perhaps not. But in the eyes of an 18 year old driving not yet a full year, such an experience creates some perspective.

"I had been dreading my first speeding ticket ever since I was given my license. It happened to everybody, why would I be the exception? While there were days when I thought that perhaps I would be the perfect exception and never see those lights flash behind me, there was always the recurring question of what would it be like? In the movies and TV shows, things are much more dramatic, and the drivers always found something witty to say or were even able to get off with an excuse. As is usually the case, movies do not prepare you for real life. However, before we jump the gun to when the sirens first sounded, let’s take a few steps back and set the scene.

"It was a cold Friday night, and I had just got clocked out from my job at the local frozen yogurt establishment. Being close to midnight, I just wanted to get home, take a hot shower, and wind down. I had pulled out of the parking lot expecting to go the way I usually do, when I noticed the blockades on the road and heard the sounds of construction. The quick way thwarted, I was forced to take the winding back roads. My music was turned up loud, and I was in a daze as I made the numerous turns just going through the motions as I usually would. This night was the same as any other night. The streets were dead, and I had one last turn to go before reaching the turn in to my neighborhood. Turning at the light, I would be on this last road for less than 30 seconds before I turned again. 30 seconds. There was a car in front of me. There were no speed limit signs on this short stretch, and I unthinkingly tried to match this car’s pace. Bad idea. I pulled into the neighborhood, and then heard the sirens behind me. This was it. Those lights were for me. I pulled onto the side of the road and waited, not really believing that this was really happening to me right now.

"The cop, a large muscular guy with a bad haircut, approached my car with his official flashlight and shined it in my face--completely unnecessary. Before he spoke, I quickly ran through the reactions I had imagined for such an occasion: hysterical crying, angrily disputing the accusation, a witty banter that would make me and the cop best buds, or a polite excuse that would get me off the hook. In the actual instance, however, I felt guilty more than anything, and that probably did not help my case at all. He asked me what the speed limit for the road was, and I truthfully answered that I didn’t know. He then of course let me know, and continued to inform me that he clocked me going 53 in a 40. I didn’t dispute this, thinking that it was certainly possible I could’ve been going that fast, but there was no way to be sure. It was late, I wasn’t looking at my speedometer; I was matching the speed of that other car... that other car. I mentally kicked myself and felt resentment.

"Despite the fact that the speeder in front of me got off easy, I did not think to mention this, and simply signed and accepted the ticket. What else could I do? It certainly seemed like that was the only solution at the time. Calmly accept the ticket and drive away. As I think about it now, I realize that I might’ve been able to explain my situation and maybe get off with a warning; after all, it was my first time. Thanks to my tendency to not think well on my feet, this will always remain a speculation, and I am now forced to take defensive driving  in order to ensure that this does not go on my record--fun stuff:P

"This was not a fun situation to be in, and as soon as I started driving away the tears began to flow. It was past midnight, I was tired, stressed, and now had the feeling that I was a criminal. I now use my cruise control more than ever, and cringe every time I see a police officer. That thing that changed? I used to look at the police cars and think that we were on the same team. I used to laugh at those who got pulled over. I used to think that my record would forever be spotless. Just goes to show that despite any plans or expectations we may have, nothing is certain, and movies are not an accurate representation of reality. Big surprise."

Thank you for your indulgence in my innocent rantings on paper.

College: Is it all Worth the Trouble?

As a graduating high school senior, it shouldn't be surprising that I would be going through some kind of college application process. It is simply the thing to do. Practically every senior I know is announcing their choices, acceptances, and awards to various Universities, and parents are singing praises with them. But sometimes I wonder, is it all worth it?

Unlike my proud peers, my experience of wanting to go to college (more specifically, a snobby University) has been a topic of shame within my house. Why can't I just do as all my siblings had done before and go get my basics done at community college, and then, if I really have to, transfer to a university in town. Why must I go to college if all I want to do is start a career within the Fine Arts department? Time and time again, I am bombarded with questions and comments concerning my life choices, and it's stressful to say the least. So I put the question out there: why does the up and coming generation, which includes myself, feel a need to attend a prestigious university, when you could get by with less? After all, community college, as Dave Ramsey would say along with my father, is the logical choice to save money and graduate debt free (insert infomercial and guitar band here)!

Speaking first from my own personal observations, despite what the bad quality commercials would have you believe, community college is not where it's at. All my siblings before me went to San Antonio College for their first two years, and from what they've told me, it was not a fun experience  Credits were misplaced, the system was unorganized, people were inconsiderate, and the campus is a bit run down. This was not a place you go for an experience; this is where you go to get through and survive. People will tell me that I'm being pretentious, but it is true what they say: you do get what you pay for. Granted, I believe that community college would be wise if one simply felt a need to go to college without a clue as to what they wanted to do in life. Then that would be a good test to see which subject you felt inclined towards before writing a hefty check. But if you know what you want to major in, and can point to a career waiting for you on the other side, I would say to strive for what would be most helpful towards that goal (shoot for the moon, as they say).

The fact is, society is no longer taking people's word for it; they look for a degree, not a independent self made wild card. The Bachelor degree is the new determining factor with a lot of companies, and the Masters degree is rapidly rising up to take the cake. One of my friends told me how her brother, who is graduating with a technical writing bachelors degree, was denied a position because another candidate (who wasn't necessarily more qualified as far as talent was concerned) had a masters degree. It's all a game about who can one-up who, and money is apparently not an object for people as loans are taken out without a second thought.

On the subject on loans, I would like to say that I'm not a supporter of them. Who would be? It's not a fun process to have to endure, so why do it unless you had to? And therein lies the punch line: have to. I believe that one should exhaust all other means of financial aid  before turning to loans, but the idea that one won't take out any loans to attend college is one of ignorance. The reality is that universities are getting more and more expensive as the years progress, and America is getting poorer and poorer. While it's an unfortunate position to be in however, I think that in the long run, taking out a loan wouldn't be the end of the world. The statistics are on our side as one who earns a degree compared to those who don't earns a much larger paycheck.

Another answer as to why I would choose to get out of the house and go to a university is for the experiences and connections I would gain on the way. For practical minded people, this would be a completely foreign concept. Experience? Pah! All you need to do is get in, get your degree, and get out. I disagree, which is why I encounter so much opposition. I could've gone to public school if I wanted; that certainly would've been the logical choice as it's cheaper with more resources. However, I wouldn't trade my high school years at the small private school I've attended since Kindergarten for anything. And being committed to a school all four years is the best way to make relationships, connections, and really establish yourself, which would be beneficial to your future as well.

Advice?

Stay determined. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you should always stick to your convictions. I'm tempted to waver as I consider all the possible failures that could occur myself, but if we questioned ourselves about everything, we wouldn't get anything done. Someone once told me that the obstacles on the way just make the success at the end that much sweeter. Stay strong; if it's meant to happen, it will definitely happen, no matter what anyone will tell you.

Really get to know your University--get personal. One of the determining factors of which University I chose was based on how much personal attention the staff was willing to provide. I mean, I would be paying an arm and a leg to go there, so the service should be good. For instance, I knew that the college which kept transferring me to automated voice messages and then calling back during school hours was most likely not going to be the best fit. Its helps to know that you'll be replied to swiftly when you're turning in important, time-sensitive items such as a financial aid appeal for instance. How will you know? Believe me, you'll know.

Scholarships...? I place a question mark on the end of this because this is a piece of advice that all will give you, but, if you're a white American, it is often worthless. I've applied to many a scholarship with no luck as of yet, but that doesn't mean I'm going to stop trying. This gives you something to do to sort of keep you going. Sure, rejection letters are no fun, but it's helpful to have a driving force to keep your mind occupied and motivated.

Prayer. It is important to keep God in the picture instead of attempting to figure it all out on your own. The decision making process is an excellent opportunity to grow in your relationship with God. Believe me, He has a better idea for what's best for your life than you will ever have.

These are the random rantings of one without sleep, so take it as you will. I won't force my ideals, as that would be the opposite of what I would hope to accomplish, but still--if nothing else, it is something to think about.

Insomniacs Anonymous

So this post doesn't have any pictures... yet, but there may be some illustrations later. This is just a short comedic story I was able to complete in my spare time:) hopefully it's as entertaining as I think it is...

“Insomniacs Anonymous”

“Hi, I’m Steve.”
“Hi Steve.”
“And I’ve been an insomniac for about ten years.”
The wave of compassionate looks was slightly disconcerting as he took his seat, and the next poor soul stood to state his name and reason for being here. He really didn’t know why he was at this IA meeting (Insomniacs Anonymous); as if discussing your stress levels and reasons for staying awake ever helped anyone. In fact, he was fairly certain that he was sleeping even less because of this torture. It had been weeks since he’d been able to sleep for more than a few minutes. The other day he had finally managed to fall asleep at the respectable time of 8:30, had a dream even, and woke up very proud of his accomplishment until he looked at the clock which showed 8:45. His instructor, Candy, enthusiastically called this “progress”. He called it “pathetic.” But, he still had to be there. They all had to be there.
They said it was because somebody loved them, but in the back recesses of his mind, Steve sometimes wondered if this was just some cruel joke the world was playing. Perhaps it was all a conspiracy; everything always seemed to end up being connected to some form of espionage or some wacko with a sign. This he could understand. Everyone needed their own form of excitement he supposed. Perhaps this was why his wife left him; for his lack of adventure. He remembered vaguely of a fight concerning his lack of emotion, but one wouldn’t ditch a commitment for something so trivial, would they?
This was why he didn’t sleep. Once he let himself think, one thought would just lead to another, and another, until he was overwhelmed with boundless questions about his own life, and then life in general. He realized this, and had an effective coping mechanism to be able to gain at least a few hours of rest; just don’t think. Take everyday as it comes, and don’t think too much about the past or the future. Of course, this all went through the window once the instructor laid out the “lesson plan”, if you will, which often included “speaking our thoughts” and answering questions like “so what makes you lie awake in the middle of the night? It ok to be honest, this is a judgement free zone.” True, but most likely because most everyone here are incoherent walking zombies.
As far as Steve was concerned, his sleep patterns were of no concern to this bright eyed communist... okay, they most likely specified that in the contract. But let’s be honest, when you sign on the dotted line saying that you have “read and agreed to the terms and conditions”, you don’t really know what was “stated above”, but when a belligerent wife is threatening divorce papers, you really don’t care and sign any way despite your lack of commitment. Of course they don’t show you the extra fine print stating that you’re committing to a whole year through which your once beloved sends you the papers anyway.
He still came to the arduous meetings though, but it wasn’t for the therapy; it was for a girl. She was pretty much the only one he’d seen who could pull off the dark circles under her eyes look and still retain a unique beauty. She was also quiet, which he was able to appreciate, especially when Candy would start talking in her chipper voice about wellness, sleep, and other nonsense like that. It was aggravatingly clear that the bright eyed instructor was one of the “rested”.
Many times he had tried to score a seat next to Sarah, but the setup of assigned chairs always managed to place him in the farthest corner from her. The forces had smiled on him today though, as he somehow ended up just one seat away from his newfound interest.
The only problem was that he was still one seat away.
The gentleman in between them was an older fellow who was constantly nodding his head, fighting sleep instead of inviting it. It was “Mixer Monday”, where another therapy group would combine with their own to supposedly increase effectiveness. Ironically, the other group today was the “NA” group (“Narcoleptics Anonymous”). The instructor had staggered the group to where the sleep deprived had two comatose sleepers flanking each side; hence his chances at sitting next to Sarah were nixed.
Steve didn’t understand this concept at all and looked on in annoyance at the drooling man beside him as a deep rumble began to emanate deep within his throat with every breath. He thought he would envy these people who could drift in and out of dreams on a whim, but as he looked from narcoleptic to narcoleptic, he was suddenly grateful for his “problem”. At least he didn’t have to worry about collapsing in the middle of a department store and looking like a complete moron; at least he could function perfectly well in society... for the most part. For this reason, you’d expect he would feel pity toward the man next to him, but he just couldn’t shake the feeling that even though he could function better, the man was still taunting him with every snore. Perhaps he was annoyed simply for the fact that the sleeping giant was allowed to sit next Sarah, when he couldn’t. Candy’s voice rang out, interrupting Steve’s thoughts, and arousing Mr. Sandman with a start.
“Alright, now that we know each other, and why each of us is here today,” as if that weren’t obvious, “we’re going to start our first exercise that will eventually lead toward a better and more rested or, for our guests, attentive lifestyle.” The instructor paused and smiled in excitement.
This can’t be good. It never was.
“I want everyone to grab a partner from the opposite group, with whom you will then conduct a short session of providing each other with suggestions on how the other is able to sleep or not sleep. This will be very fun and educational, and I’m very excited to try it since it is one my own exercise ideas. So, without further ado, start mingling!" Gramps turned toward Steve first (which he thought was an odd first reaction when the old man could’ve been with Sarah), and he shrugged when the man asked him if he wanted to be partners saying “sure, why not,” even though he could think of a million reasons why not.
The man’s name was Donald, he was a retired veterinarian who had never owned an animal in his life, but had saved many lives in his career, and bla bla bla, bla... well, then again, bla bla... It was amazing how much Steve could tune out as he focussed in on Sarah sitting directly behind Donald. She looked wonderfully tired at the moment, and he smiled at how uninterested she looked to be towards her partner (who was aggravatingly handsome for his age). Donald didn’t suspect a thing as he continued to pour out his life story. It was a long process of Steve staring at Sarah while catching on to only tid bits of his partner’s long winded speech. Something about “lonely life”, “the war effort”, and him having his fair share of “quack scientists”. These all seemed to be basic conversation topics that Steve was able to not listen to. It was when he heard his mother’s name that Steve’s attention snapped back to Donald.
“I’m sorry, what was that you said?”
“I was just saying how, even though I’ve been a lonely old coot with sleep problems for a while now, in all my years, I did manage to find one thing that was able to keep me awake- all night in fact- and her name was Helen Jackson, and man was she a spunky little thing back in the day... what’s the matter son, you look a little disturbed.”
“My last name is Jackson.”
Donald didn’t look like he saw the point.
“My mother’s name was Helen.”
Realization started to flicker within his eyes, and he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“Are you saying you slept with my mother?”
At this, Donald opened his mouth as if he were going to explain, but just before the first syllable left his mouth, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he was out. Steve stared at him incredulously for a while, not sure what to think. What a cop out, he thought as he sat back in his chair and turning so that he wouldn’t have to look at his disgusting partner anymore, and get a better view of Sarah at the same time. He was disappointed by the view when he saw her partner passed out, and Sarah herself, gone. He was about to go and try to find out where she went, when he heard a loud scream.
After that, everything seemed to turn into chaos.
The scream had come from the narcoleptic lady who had been on his right and kept going until she fainted- or fell asleep, it was hard to tell- and collapsed on the ground. This led to a domino effect among the other narcoleptics as almost all of them fell at the same time. One of my fellow insomniatic friends started whooping and running around like a madman. Someone else had apparently cut off his hand in response to the suggestion that intense pain would definitely keep them awake (it was an attempt at a joke, but that quickly became besides the point). Steve didn’t know what to think, and indeed, could do nothing but stand and watch.
The lights had started to flicker, people began disappearing, and the air conditioner had apparently gained the power of a tornado as items started flying in the air. He thought he saw his ex wife for a moment, and even his mother at one point. Above all the screaming, the yelling, and the snoring (from Donald, who had not stirred once despite the tumultuous environment), gleeful laughter was heard to erupt out of Candy’s mouth in increasing hysteria. What was happening?
And then there was Sarah, standing in the middle of the room and looking at him.
Nothing mattered anymore. Those dark eyes had his complete attention. Chairs flew, blood was all over the floor, and nothing made sense, but he started walking in her direction with determination. A narcoleptic collapsed on him, he pushed her out of the way. A table was knocked over in front of him, he stepped calmly over it. He managed to walk without obstruction or stumble and was soon holding her close. She looked up at him expectantly, and he said the first thing that came to his mind.
“My friend over there told me a great idea on how to spend your time staying awake, and I think we should try it out.” She smiled, leaned toward him, and...
...everything went black.
Steve sat up from his chair with a start. He was in his apartment, alone, and still very tired. He sighed when he looked at the glowing numbers on the digital clock.
It was only 8:45.