Dear blog,
Spending time with my "insignificant other" and mistress earlier this afternoon and evening, I had the sudden urge to simply ask the both of them individually, "Are you happy?" Soon after I was conflicted with answering my own question when they had asked me. At the moment I answered, yes, I was happy. However, that question and answer continued to linger in the back of my mind throughout the entire evening, second guessing myself if I really was happy.
Who would have ever thought such a simple question like that could be so complex to not only answer, but also understand. I needed a time and place like this to simply diagnose my ambiguity. According to Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary, happiness means a state of well-being and contentment or a pleasurable or satisfying experience. There is a pretty straight forward definition of the word.
Well let's see. All I know is that I am at the peak of my adolescent career where I am truly finding who I really am and who I want to be. I face each and every waking hour with life changing struggles and overwhelming feelings of failure. I am tortured with the unpredictable possibilities of my future and troubled with the priorities I endure in the living present. I am surrounded by narcissistic, psychologically damaged, deranged, analytical, selfless, selfish, careless, vile, egocentric people who are nevertheless intellectual, one of a kind, affectionate, passionate, warm-hearted, inimitable, self-assertive, steadfast, soft hearted, talented, hard on, and strong. I am in a constant battle with my physical appearance and independent life. And, I spend each day with a big smile on my face, a positive attitude, and an eagerness to learning new things.
So, responding to my own uncertainty of self happiness, I now laugh and simply still answer YES I AM VERY HAPPY. Every imbalance and hardships in my life only make me happier and content because the trials that I face to overcome these obstacles are the ones that make my life worth living. And, having a purpose to live is what makes me happy.
Sincerely,
Carla
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
you'll never know how i feel until you have your own kids
Dear blog,
Have you ever heard of the saying, "Mothers know best?" Well I didn't believe this during my crazy teenage years, but I somehow do now. My lack of understanding led to multiple quarrels and verbal violence with my mother during my entire young adolescence time. No matter what she did, what she said I was always against her.
She held me for nine months without complaint and suffered giving birth to me on the seventeenth of October. She brought me into her life, fed me, nourished me, gave me life. She loved to dress me up in beautiful dresses, punished me when I did, said something wrong. She entertained me with nursery rhymes and "when I was your age" tales. She made me cry, she made me smile, she loved me for who I am.
When I was five years old my mother left me, my sister, father and younger brother. Don't worry she did it for our own good. She moved here in America for a better opportunity in life for her family. We soon followed, though this is a rather complicated topic to discuss. But, long story short after two years of separation from our mother we were finally complete again, ready to start a new life with all of us together... well kind of. What I meant by that was, yes we were complete but not really because our new unexpected addition to the family didn't arrive yet, not until four years later. Anyway, my mother was the reason I am where I am now.
Years have gone by and behaviors from the homeland slowly faded away; I became somewhat "Americanized." My new way of living didn't agree with her traditional aspects in life. Because of that, angry, non meaningful words were exchanged, hands slapped faces, tears shed from all four eyes, eyes weren't met for days, silence between mother and daughter was acknowledged, feelings were hurt, hearts were mended, night and days continued to pass.
She hated the way I looked physically. She blamed my father for that. "I never had pimples growing up, my skin was always smooth," she would say, "When I was your age, I always looked sexy unlike you," she would continue. She hated my first boyfriend. She rejoiced our breakup other than comforted me, saw that I was hurting. I never really felt that kind of comfort from her, that she actually cared how I felt about certain things. These actions made me angry with her and that's why sometimes I rebelled but not to the point of loosing myself, just talking back and lying behind her back. I didn't like arguing with her, but sometimes I just couldn't take what she said.
Sure that may seem like a horrible mother but I know she only wants the best for me. She doesn't want me to end up like one of those obese teenagers out there and it didn't matter if she liked my first boyfriend or not because she knew he wasn't the right one for me from the very beginning. And if I just listened to her, I would have never gotten my heart broken by some careless bastard. Mothers know best.
We still get into arguments often, but most of the time we get along. She's only looking out for me because she doesn't want me suffering in the long run. I love my mom. We've been through so much together and we're still here together fighting the hardships in life. Why is it the ones you love most end up the one you're always hurting? Is it because that love they have for you is the unconditional kind and at the end, no matter what happened, they are the ones who will still be there for you when no one else will? Hmm... maybe.
One thing my mother always tells me when I get into an argument with her is, "You'll never know how I feel until you have your own kids." I think about this sometimes and she may be right. What mother wants to see their own child hate her? I have friends with no mothers, too many mothers, mothers that abandon them, and have mothers but don't respect them. Sometimes I don't realize how lucky I am and I become one of those who have mothers but disrespect them. I'm trying not to because I now know that my mother shows her love for me through many ways: yelling, kissing, insulting, hugging, staring, and annoying phone calls. Sometimes when I realize that I'm very disrespectful I allow her to slap me in the face and then I go and cry in my room.
Happy Mother's Day Mom. I know I don't say this much but, I love you, I really do.
Sincerely,
Carla
Have you ever heard of the saying, "Mothers know best?" Well I didn't believe this during my crazy teenage years, but I somehow do now. My lack of understanding led to multiple quarrels and verbal violence with my mother during my entire young adolescence time. No matter what she did, what she said I was always against her.
She held me for nine months without complaint and suffered giving birth to me on the seventeenth of October. She brought me into her life, fed me, nourished me, gave me life. She loved to dress me up in beautiful dresses, punished me when I did, said something wrong. She entertained me with nursery rhymes and "when I was your age" tales. She made me cry, she made me smile, she loved me for who I am.
When I was five years old my mother left me, my sister, father and younger brother. Don't worry she did it for our own good. She moved here in America for a better opportunity in life for her family. We soon followed, though this is a rather complicated topic to discuss. But, long story short after two years of separation from our mother we were finally complete again, ready to start a new life with all of us together... well kind of. What I meant by that was, yes we were complete but not really because our new unexpected addition to the family didn't arrive yet, not until four years later. Anyway, my mother was the reason I am where I am now.
Years have gone by and behaviors from the homeland slowly faded away; I became somewhat "Americanized." My new way of living didn't agree with her traditional aspects in life. Because of that, angry, non meaningful words were exchanged, hands slapped faces, tears shed from all four eyes, eyes weren't met for days, silence between mother and daughter was acknowledged, feelings were hurt, hearts were mended, night and days continued to pass.
She hated the way I looked physically. She blamed my father for that. "I never had pimples growing up, my skin was always smooth," she would say, "When I was your age, I always looked sexy unlike you," she would continue. She hated my first boyfriend. She rejoiced our breakup other than comforted me, saw that I was hurting. I never really felt that kind of comfort from her, that she actually cared how I felt about certain things. These actions made me angry with her and that's why sometimes I rebelled but not to the point of loosing myself, just talking back and lying behind her back. I didn't like arguing with her, but sometimes I just couldn't take what she said.
Sure that may seem like a horrible mother but I know she only wants the best for me. She doesn't want me to end up like one of those obese teenagers out there and it didn't matter if she liked my first boyfriend or not because she knew he wasn't the right one for me from the very beginning. And if I just listened to her, I would have never gotten my heart broken by some careless bastard. Mothers know best.
We still get into arguments often, but most of the time we get along. She's only looking out for me because she doesn't want me suffering in the long run. I love my mom. We've been through so much together and we're still here together fighting the hardships in life. Why is it the ones you love most end up the one you're always hurting? Is it because that love they have for you is the unconditional kind and at the end, no matter what happened, they are the ones who will still be there for you when no one else will? Hmm... maybe.
One thing my mother always tells me when I get into an argument with her is, "You'll never know how I feel until you have your own kids." I think about this sometimes and she may be right. What mother wants to see their own child hate her? I have friends with no mothers, too many mothers, mothers that abandon them, and have mothers but don't respect them. Sometimes I don't realize how lucky I am and I become one of those who have mothers but disrespect them. I'm trying not to because I now know that my mother shows her love for me through many ways: yelling, kissing, insulting, hugging, staring, and annoying phone calls. Sometimes when I realize that I'm very disrespectful I allow her to slap me in the face and then I go and cry in my room.
Happy Mother's Day Mom. I know I don't say this much but, I love you, I really do.
Sincerely,
Carla
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
i'd rather be physically abused than mentally destroyed
Dear blog,
I admit it I'm scared. Elaborate? Sure why not. I don't really know how to start this but here it goes. It's been a while since my last relationship and ever since then I have not changed my views of other "fish" out there, which is unattractive. I don't mean that in a mean way. Sure there are good looking guys out there and others with great hearts, but none have caught my attention. I hate to admit that I was in love once because honestly I'm not really sure if I really was in love. The feeling was strong, yes, and that's why I want to stay away. I was heartbroken and I don't think I would ever get over it. Heartbroken to the point that I'm scared to ever commit again with the opposite sex. Sure I'll get over it, but I'm not so sure when that would be. Please don't take that the wrong way. I'm not trying to say I'm not over my ex because I am.
My last relationship traumatized me. Because of love, or whatever that was then, I have made a complete fool of myself. I fell hard with no one to catch me in the end. I hit the ground hard enough for me to break in a million pieces and there was no one there to sweep the mess away. In a way I'm still broken. I've yet to rise from my ashes like an unborn phoenix. I gave myself completely then. Stayed oblivious to everything around me and focused myself to the only thing that was mine not knowing the consequences, not knowing it will destroy every bit of me.
I knew he wasn't the one, but after the breakup something told me otherwise. Desperation got the hold of me and I couldn't stop it. I wasn't myself at all. I became the person I never wanted to become. I lost my dignity, lost it because of him. I was a mess for a while believing he would come back to catch me and sweep me away. Begging for him to love me the same way he did before. Wanting him for myself and no one else. Jealousy took over me too. I became that "psycho ex girlfriend," someone I never thought I would become. I cried over this boy for countless nights. He destroyed me, made me a fool. I got over myself in due time and glad I did. I felt so stupid, so disgusted at myself, so completely pathetic. I hated myself for that. I lost control of my being. Because of that I made a promise to never love again for a long time. I haven't broken that promise yet, and I don't intend to anytime soon.
This has been hard for me. I don't want to become that ugly person again. So I'm staying away... far far away. I only have one thing left for myself and that's respect for my body. Yes, I'm nineteen and still a virgin and proud as hell of it. That is the one thing no one has taken from me yet and I want to keep hold of it for as long as I could. I've lost love, I've lost my mind, but not that. So, for all my friends who wonder and think why I don't want a boyfriend or why I'm still a virgin I have a perfectly good reason why.
Sometimes when I look at my friends with their other halves, I stop and wonder when I would ever have that again. It seems so far from my grasp at the moment and it hurts sometimes to think that I may never have that again. I don't know what else to do. I've been mentally destroyed and honestly it hurts as fuck to completely lose my mind.
There is only one thing I want to say to my ex if I ever see him again, "FUCK YOU, BURN IN HELL."
Sincerely,
Carla
P.S. No, I don't want to talk about it ...
I admit it I'm scared. Elaborate? Sure why not. I don't really know how to start this but here it goes. It's been a while since my last relationship and ever since then I have not changed my views of other "fish" out there, which is unattractive. I don't mean that in a mean way. Sure there are good looking guys out there and others with great hearts, but none have caught my attention. I hate to admit that I was in love once because honestly I'm not really sure if I really was in love. The feeling was strong, yes, and that's why I want to stay away. I was heartbroken and I don't think I would ever get over it. Heartbroken to the point that I'm scared to ever commit again with the opposite sex. Sure I'll get over it, but I'm not so sure when that would be. Please don't take that the wrong way. I'm not trying to say I'm not over my ex because I am.
My last relationship traumatized me. Because of love, or whatever that was then, I have made a complete fool of myself. I fell hard with no one to catch me in the end. I hit the ground hard enough for me to break in a million pieces and there was no one there to sweep the mess away. In a way I'm still broken. I've yet to rise from my ashes like an unborn phoenix. I gave myself completely then. Stayed oblivious to everything around me and focused myself to the only thing that was mine not knowing the consequences, not knowing it will destroy every bit of me.
I knew he wasn't the one, but after the breakup something told me otherwise. Desperation got the hold of me and I couldn't stop it. I wasn't myself at all. I became the person I never wanted to become. I lost my dignity, lost it because of him. I was a mess for a while believing he would come back to catch me and sweep me away. Begging for him to love me the same way he did before. Wanting him for myself and no one else. Jealousy took over me too. I became that "psycho ex girlfriend," someone I never thought I would become. I cried over this boy for countless nights. He destroyed me, made me a fool. I got over myself in due time and glad I did. I felt so stupid, so disgusted at myself, so completely pathetic. I hated myself for that. I lost control of my being. Because of that I made a promise to never love again for a long time. I haven't broken that promise yet, and I don't intend to anytime soon.
This has been hard for me. I don't want to become that ugly person again. So I'm staying away... far far away. I only have one thing left for myself and that's respect for my body. Yes, I'm nineteen and still a virgin and proud as hell of it. That is the one thing no one has taken from me yet and I want to keep hold of it for as long as I could. I've lost love, I've lost my mind, but not that. So, for all my friends who wonder and think why I don't want a boyfriend or why I'm still a virgin I have a perfectly good reason why.
Sometimes when I look at my friends with their other halves, I stop and wonder when I would ever have that again. It seems so far from my grasp at the moment and it hurts sometimes to think that I may never have that again. I don't know what else to do. I've been mentally destroyed and honestly it hurts as fuck to completely lose my mind.
There is only one thing I want to say to my ex if I ever see him again, "FUCK YOU, BURN IN HELL."
Sincerely,
Carla
P.S. No, I don't want to talk about it ...
Monday, May 4, 2009
poetry
Dear blog,
I just want to say that I really hate poetry! Writing it is horrible =/ I had to write a poem about a piece of furniture and I was suppose to play around with language. What the hell is that suppose to mean? I can't even write proper English sometimes and my professor expects me to play with language. I have a feeling I will fail my creative writing class because of this!
This is what I wrote...
My Piece of Furniture
As a queen it lay in the middle of the room
bare and white; naked until fresh new garment
covered it's soft silky texture with colors like
mint green, tangerine, or daisy yellow.
Pillows roofed it's tip like overlapping clouds
and multi layered sheets protected it's inner core.
It's peppermint feel stung my delicate skin
like frost bite as I pressed myself against it.
I allowed the warmth of my body to simultaneously
work with its icy surface to reach equilibrium.
It slowly accepted my shape, engulfing me,
embracing my outer being with its cotton touch.
Sincerely,
Carla
I just want to say that I really hate poetry! Writing it is horrible =/ I had to write a poem about a piece of furniture and I was suppose to play around with language. What the hell is that suppose to mean? I can't even write proper English sometimes and my professor expects me to play with language. I have a feeling I will fail my creative writing class because of this!
This is what I wrote...
My Piece of Furniture
As a queen it lay in the middle of the room
bare and white; naked until fresh new garment
covered it's soft silky texture with colors like
mint green, tangerine, or daisy yellow.
Pillows roofed it's tip like overlapping clouds
and multi layered sheets protected it's inner core.
It's peppermint feel stung my delicate skin
like frost bite as I pressed myself against it.
I allowed the warmth of my body to simultaneously
work with its icy surface to reach equilibrium.
It slowly accepted my shape, engulfing me,
embracing my outer being with its cotton touch.
Sincerely,
Carla
Thursday, April 30, 2009
short
Dear blog,
It's 2:50 and I'm still up. I have class at 8 and I have to wake up at 5:30 to get to school before that. I like being early. Anyway this entry will be very random. I left my house crying about something. As I was walking to the bus stop, I passed by these two kids and they saw my puffy eyes and me sniffing and wiping my tears away. One of them goes, "Aw what happened?" I just kept walking and ignored them. I will fail my anatomy quiz on the brain tomorrow.
This has to be my worse entry so far :)
Sincerely,
Carla
It's 2:50 and I'm still up. I have class at 8 and I have to wake up at 5:30 to get to school before that. I like being early. Anyway this entry will be very random. I left my house crying about something. As I was walking to the bus stop, I passed by these two kids and they saw my puffy eyes and me sniffing and wiping my tears away. One of them goes, "Aw what happened?" I just kept walking and ignored them. I will fail my anatomy quiz on the brain tomorrow.
This has to be my worse entry so far :)
Sincerely,
Carla
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
no words
Dear blog,
Today was quiet an interesting day. It kind of started off bad due to this man on the train who gave out a rather strong stench that was definitely not soothing for the nose. The subway car, cooled down by a fresh cold air conditioner, was perfectly fine until this man entered the car and completely destroyed everything. I was there sitting, patiently waiting for the subway to reach the 6th avenue stop and this man walks right inside the car carrying with him the disgusting scent of cigarettes. I knew I wasn't the only one bothered with the smell because the lady's nose right in front of me wrinkled in disgust from the stench that just slapped her and the rest of the people's faces who surrounded him as soon as he entered. Now, I sat there continuously trying to concentrate myself with other scents so that the stench of the man wouldn't bother me. But, the odor was just so strong that nothing could've overpowered it. The fact that there was ventilation in the car wasn't helping at all, it just made it worse. I had nothing else to do but to take the awful stench, and if I couldn't I breathe through my mouth.
I believe it reached 90 degrees today, if not nearly 90. It was really hot. It didn't feel like spring at all, rather summer. The humidity was just too much for me to handle. All I wanted to do was stay indoors where it was cool and pleasant. Of course that didn't entirely happen. But hey, a girl can dream right. Anyway, my "lovely" friend Nico here took me to a journey trying to find this Thia restaurant that was supposedly a train stop away from Hunter College. Now the next stop going uptown after 68th street is 77th. Nico said that this Thia place called Spice was on 83rd street. So under the blazing sun we walked from 77th to 83rd. When we reached 83rd and didn't see it, he goes and checks his handy dandy iPhone for it's location. The iPhone pinpointed that it was located on 73rd street. With sweat accumulating on every inch of my body, we decided to walk from 83rd all the way to 73rd. Guess what we found when we got there? NOTHING! So much for a "handy dandy" iPhone. We finally gave up and ended up walking to and getting McDonalds on 70th street. After, we walked back to Hunter on 68th. He made me walk all of that under the cruel sun just so he can satisfy his hunger with an Angus burger, fries, coke, and sweet ice tea. Thanks Nico, THANKS!
Apart from all the rubbishness that occurred during the day, I ironically had a beautiful evening. Ron, Lorelie, Florann and I spontaneously walked the Brooklyn Bridge. We arrived at our destination at around 10 o' clock. The angry sun finally decided to rest and allowed the crescent moon to cool down the city. The weather was perfect; the soft cool breeze, the 70ish temperature, and the light humidity mixed so well into the night. The ancient wooden bridge was brilliant with it's structure and the way it showed off it's bright fluorescent lights made it so much livelier into the good night. The skyline of the lit city was perfect in view from where we stood. The essence of the breathless air made our minds wonder at the mind blowing view shown in front of us. Pictures definitely had to be taken, for this was a night we wouldn't dare forget. Just when the ladies in this journey thought the night couldn't have gotten any better, Ron surprised us with another location underneath the bridge. There lay a beach like area where we could see the beauty of the Brooklyn Bridge from afar and the Manhattan bridge up close. Boy was it a perfect night to go site seeing. Everything was so relaxing. Just what I needed.
Some low phone quality pictures of the night. Not as good as Ron's pictures, but pretty lights nonetheless.
Today was quiet an interesting day. It kind of started off bad due to this man on the train who gave out a rather strong stench that was definitely not soothing for the nose. The subway car, cooled down by a fresh cold air conditioner, was perfectly fine until this man entered the car and completely destroyed everything. I was there sitting, patiently waiting for the subway to reach the 6th avenue stop and this man walks right inside the car carrying with him the disgusting scent of cigarettes. I knew I wasn't the only one bothered with the smell because the lady's nose right in front of me wrinkled in disgust from the stench that just slapped her and the rest of the people's faces who surrounded him as soon as he entered. Now, I sat there continuously trying to concentrate myself with other scents so that the stench of the man wouldn't bother me. But, the odor was just so strong that nothing could've overpowered it. The fact that there was ventilation in the car wasn't helping at all, it just made it worse. I had nothing else to do but to take the awful stench, and if I couldn't I breathe through my mouth.
I believe it reached 90 degrees today, if not nearly 90. It was really hot. It didn't feel like spring at all, rather summer. The humidity was just too much for me to handle. All I wanted to do was stay indoors where it was cool and pleasant. Of course that didn't entirely happen. But hey, a girl can dream right. Anyway, my "lovely" friend Nico here took me to a journey trying to find this Thia restaurant that was supposedly a train stop away from Hunter College. Now the next stop going uptown after 68th street is 77th. Nico said that this Thia place called Spice was on 83rd street. So under the blazing sun we walked from 77th to 83rd. When we reached 83rd and didn't see it, he goes and checks his handy dandy iPhone for it's location. The iPhone pinpointed that it was located on 73rd street. With sweat accumulating on every inch of my body, we decided to walk from 83rd all the way to 73rd. Guess what we found when we got there? NOTHING! So much for a "handy dandy" iPhone. We finally gave up and ended up walking to and getting McDonalds on 70th street. After, we walked back to Hunter on 68th. He made me walk all of that under the cruel sun just so he can satisfy his hunger with an Angus burger, fries, coke, and sweet ice tea. Thanks Nico, THANKS!
Apart from all the rubbishness that occurred during the day, I ironically had a beautiful evening. Ron, Lorelie, Florann and I spontaneously walked the Brooklyn Bridge. We arrived at our destination at around 10 o' clock. The angry sun finally decided to rest and allowed the crescent moon to cool down the city. The weather was perfect; the soft cool breeze, the 70ish temperature, and the light humidity mixed so well into the night. The ancient wooden bridge was brilliant with it's structure and the way it showed off it's bright fluorescent lights made it so much livelier into the good night. The skyline of the lit city was perfect in view from where we stood. The essence of the breathless air made our minds wonder at the mind blowing view shown in front of us. Pictures definitely had to be taken, for this was a night we wouldn't dare forget. Just when the ladies in this journey thought the night couldn't have gotten any better, Ron surprised us with another location underneath the bridge. There lay a beach like area where we could see the beauty of the Brooklyn Bridge from afar and the Manhattan bridge up close. Boy was it a perfect night to go site seeing. Everything was so relaxing. Just what I needed.
Some low phone quality pictures of the night. Not as good as Ron's pictures, but pretty lights nonetheless.
One of Ron's own♥
Monday, April 27, 2009
too much
Dear blog,
A lot has been going on in my mind. Well actually, a lot goes around in there all the time. It still surprises me how well contained I still am even with all of those things in there. I try so much not to let them overwhelm me. I just think to myself, get it done so you won't have anything to worry about. And, that is exactly what I do. Sometimes there are certain things that get in the way and mess up my flow. That's when I've hit my turning point and all hell breaks loose.
Sometimes I feel like I'm such a bitch. Deep deep down, I know I am. It takes over me at times and I can't hold it down because it's been buried alive for so long that it needs to escape once in while to get a little bit of air. I try to suffocate it as long as possible. But, certain people likes to unconsciously dig its grave and pull it out so they can see for themselves. Why can't these people understand that what's buried is buried for a reason, so why not keep it that way?
Yesterday was family day and I couldn't have been happier. I was finally able to enjoy the beautiful weather outside with the fam bam. The usual Sunday routine is to go to church then drive somewhere to either eat or hang out. Green Acres Mall was the distinct location. Not really a suitable place for such a nice weather, but I didn't complain. As long as I was with the people I loved and missed most this past week I was as overjoyed as a baby playing peekaboo. My mom bought me a new wallet and perfume. I've been wanting the DKNY green apple scent for so long and I finally got it! I love my mommy. We haven't been arguing lately and I'm glad :)
I'm suppose to be writing a poem for my creative writing class tomorrow, but I can't seem to start it. I'm not a poet. I really suck at writing poetry. I love Shakespeare's work though. He has his ways with words♥ Anyway, I should stop procrastinating and get to writing that poem. I came home early today just so I can give myself a head start, but obviously that didn't happen. EPIC FAIL.
Sincerely,
Carla
A lot has been going on in my mind. Well actually, a lot goes around in there all the time. It still surprises me how well contained I still am even with all of those things in there. I try so much not to let them overwhelm me. I just think to myself, get it done so you won't have anything to worry about. And, that is exactly what I do. Sometimes there are certain things that get in the way and mess up my flow. That's when I've hit my turning point and all hell breaks loose.
Sometimes I feel like I'm such a bitch. Deep deep down, I know I am. It takes over me at times and I can't hold it down because it's been buried alive for so long that it needs to escape once in while to get a little bit of air. I try to suffocate it as long as possible. But, certain people likes to unconsciously dig its grave and pull it out so they can see for themselves. Why can't these people understand that what's buried is buried for a reason, so why not keep it that way?
Yesterday was family day and I couldn't have been happier. I was finally able to enjoy the beautiful weather outside with the fam bam. The usual Sunday routine is to go to church then drive somewhere to either eat or hang out. Green Acres Mall was the distinct location. Not really a suitable place for such a nice weather, but I didn't complain. As long as I was with the people I loved and missed most this past week I was as overjoyed as a baby playing peekaboo. My mom bought me a new wallet and perfume. I've been wanting the DKNY green apple scent for so long and I finally got it! I love my mommy. We haven't been arguing lately and I'm glad :)
I'm suppose to be writing a poem for my creative writing class tomorrow, but I can't seem to start it. I'm not a poet. I really suck at writing poetry. I love Shakespeare's work though. He has his ways with words♥ Anyway, I should stop procrastinating and get to writing that poem. I came home early today just so I can give myself a head start, but obviously that didn't happen. EPIC FAIL.
Sincerely,
Carla
Sunday, April 26, 2009
up late
Dear blog,
It's 3 in the morning right now and I don't know what I'm doing up. I should go to bed soon. I've been practicing for the past three nights and it's so tiring. Because of it I feel like I haven't seen my family in so long. Since my class starts at 8 in the morning I leave my house at half pass six and practice usually ends really late and I don't get home until pass 11. The POH show is next week Saturday so we're getting ready for it. It just sucks because I haven't been able to spend time with my family that much lately. It's more like a goodbye and goodnight kind of thing now and it makes me really sad :(
Today was Franklin's birthday. We ate dinner then we went lounging. He made me try cranberry and pineapple soju shots. It was pretty good, but it doesn't compare to midori sour.
Anyway I love Ron, he's amazing. I want to kidnap him with Lorelie and hide him in a far away land where no one can find him and start off a new life with just us three and random native far away landers. I WANT TO KEEP HIM AWAY!
Ok. That's all :)
Sincerely,
Carla
It's 3 in the morning right now and I don't know what I'm doing up. I should go to bed soon. I've been practicing for the past three nights and it's so tiring. Because of it I feel like I haven't seen my family in so long. Since my class starts at 8 in the morning I leave my house at half pass six and practice usually ends really late and I don't get home until pass 11. The POH show is next week Saturday so we're getting ready for it. It just sucks because I haven't been able to spend time with my family that much lately. It's more like a goodbye and goodnight kind of thing now and it makes me really sad :(
Today was Franklin's birthday. We ate dinner then we went lounging. He made me try cranberry and pineapple soju shots. It was pretty good, but it doesn't compare to midori sour.
Anyway I love Ron, he's amazing. I want to kidnap him with Lorelie and hide him in a far away land where no one can find him and start off a new life with just us three and random native far away landers. I WANT TO KEEP HIM AWAY!
Ok. That's all :)
Sincerely,
Carla
Saturday, April 11, 2009
aerobics class
Dear blog,
My cousin Phillipe came by a few minutes ago. I normally call him 'Kuya' Phillipe and not just by his name. In a Filipino household it is custom to call someone who is older than you, apart from parents and grandparents, by a certain name. 'Kuya' for an older male relative and 'Ate' for an older female relative. It might seem degrading, but we do it as a sign of respect. Anyway, my Kuya Phillipe brought some beef and chicken patties over. Cocoa bread on beef patty is quiet the combination. After eating, we just hung out in the living room, rested on the sofa and started catching up on a few things. My younger brother then began bothering my cousin by kicking and sitting on him. Kuya Phillipe retaliated by tickling him.
My younger brother is nine years old. His name is Daniel. I wouldn't say he's fat like he's obese, but he is pretty heavy for his age. Because of his annoyance and the fact that he's "fat," a conversation of starting a new nontraditional aerobics class for fat children somehow came up. It was pretty hilarious actually. My Kuya said, just jokingly, that maybe he should start a new aerobics class for heavy kids and for their workout he will threaten them with tickling. He would chase them the entire session and tickle them when he catches them. Imagine that, fat kids locked in one room running for their lives just so they wouldn't get tickled. Fat kids between the ages of 7-9 screaming and crying for their mothers. Pretty funny to me. Now, this plan wouldn't work of course if the kids weren't ticklish. So he thought maybe instead of tickling them, let them get chased by one or two rabid dogs. He would put retainers or something to cover the dogs' mouths so they won't bite the children and just chase after them. Regardless, the children will still be afraid and run from them. This is kind of ridiculous, but it's amusing to the mind.
Sincerely,
Carla
My cousin Phillipe came by a few minutes ago. I normally call him 'Kuya' Phillipe and not just by his name. In a Filipino household it is custom to call someone who is older than you, apart from parents and grandparents, by a certain name. 'Kuya' for an older male relative and 'Ate' for an older female relative. It might seem degrading, but we do it as a sign of respect. Anyway, my Kuya Phillipe brought some beef and chicken patties over. Cocoa bread on beef patty is quiet the combination. After eating, we just hung out in the living room, rested on the sofa and started catching up on a few things. My younger brother then began bothering my cousin by kicking and sitting on him. Kuya Phillipe retaliated by tickling him.
My younger brother is nine years old. His name is Daniel. I wouldn't say he's fat like he's obese, but he is pretty heavy for his age. Because of his annoyance and the fact that he's "fat," a conversation of starting a new nontraditional aerobics class for fat children somehow came up. It was pretty hilarious actually. My Kuya said, just jokingly, that maybe he should start a new aerobics class for heavy kids and for their workout he will threaten them with tickling. He would chase them the entire session and tickle them when he catches them. Imagine that, fat kids locked in one room running for their lives just so they wouldn't get tickled. Fat kids between the ages of 7-9 screaming and crying for their mothers. Pretty funny to me. Now, this plan wouldn't work of course if the kids weren't ticklish. So he thought maybe instead of tickling them, let them get chased by one or two rabid dogs. He would put retainers or something to cover the dogs' mouths so they won't bite the children and just chase after them. Regardless, the children will still be afraid and run from them. This is kind of ridiculous, but it's amusing to the mind.
Sincerely,
Carla
the start of something new
Dear blog,
This is the first time I ever did something like this. I've always enjoyed reading other peoples blogs, but I never thought of creating one of my own. I normally don't like sharing my own thoughts with others because I'm afraid they'll just get a big laugh out of it. When I was younger, around eleven I believe, I started writing diary entries on my very first Blue Bear stationary booklet. There I spilled all the things that were going through my mind at the time. Every little thing I did, every guy I liked, every emotions I felt. It was something meaningful I did when I was stuck home with only the television to keep me company. I was never really a big fan of watching TV, so instead I started to pour out my thoughts on paper. I still have this Blue Bear booklet and read it once in a while. I've written on every leaf, front and back, and filled it with nonsense. I would laugh at the stupid things I wrote. My handwriting in the beginning was disgusting and big, but throughout the years it got better and smaller. I didn't finish writing on it until two years ago; it took me six years. You're probably wondering how big this book is. Well, it's not that big. It just took me a long time. I didn't write in it everyday, even though I tried, rather I wrote in it every few months. My experiences from when I was eleven until I was seventeen was written all over that book. Ever since I haven't had the chance to start writing on a new book which saddens me because I liked keeping a diary. It was the one thing anyone couldn't take from me. My very own life written in bounded stationary. This is why I started blogging because it's like a diary, but modernized. Since I'm on my lap top all the time, I mind of as well make better use of it.
Did I mention I was on my spring break. Well I am. I don't really have any big plans, but I am going to the Poconos for two days next week. I'm excited. Last time I went there I went with three of my girl friends and had the best time. This time I'm going with a different group of people, a much larger and more interesting group, that's why I can't wait because I know this time it's going to be so much better.
Well I'm about done with my first blog. Sorry for my grammar, I'm not really good with it. It's a good thing I'm majoring in Nursing and not English. I'll try to update this everyday, which may be highly unlikely considering it took me six years to finish my stationary booklet. But, yea until next time :)
Sincerely,
Carla
This is the first time I ever did something like this. I've always enjoyed reading other peoples blogs, but I never thought of creating one of my own. I normally don't like sharing my own thoughts with others because I'm afraid they'll just get a big laugh out of it. When I was younger, around eleven I believe, I started writing diary entries on my very first Blue Bear stationary booklet. There I spilled all the things that were going through my mind at the time. Every little thing I did, every guy I liked, every emotions I felt. It was something meaningful I did when I was stuck home with only the television to keep me company. I was never really a big fan of watching TV, so instead I started to pour out my thoughts on paper. I still have this Blue Bear booklet and read it once in a while. I've written on every leaf, front and back, and filled it with nonsense. I would laugh at the stupid things I wrote. My handwriting in the beginning was disgusting and big, but throughout the years it got better and smaller. I didn't finish writing on it until two years ago; it took me six years. You're probably wondering how big this book is. Well, it's not that big. It just took me a long time. I didn't write in it everyday, even though I tried, rather I wrote in it every few months. My experiences from when I was eleven until I was seventeen was written all over that book. Ever since I haven't had the chance to start writing on a new book which saddens me because I liked keeping a diary. It was the one thing anyone couldn't take from me. My very own life written in bounded stationary. This is why I started blogging because it's like a diary, but modernized. Since I'm on my lap top all the time, I mind of as well make better use of it.
Did I mention I was on my spring break. Well I am. I don't really have any big plans, but I am going to the Poconos for two days next week. I'm excited. Last time I went there I went with three of my girl friends and had the best time. This time I'm going with a different group of people, a much larger and more interesting group, that's why I can't wait because I know this time it's going to be so much better.
Well I'm about done with my first blog. Sorry for my grammar, I'm not really good with it. It's a good thing I'm majoring in Nursing and not English. I'll try to update this everyday, which may be highly unlikely considering it took me six years to finish my stationary booklet. But, yea until next time :)
Sincerely,
Carla
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)