Harvard sent me an application.
Harvard sent me an application.
I have found out that I love online shopping.
These stories are so beautiful. I cry almost everytime I read them.
Delicious bow ties (name pending)
*Amounts are to taste
Mini bow tie noodles
Shredded mozerella cheese
-add butter, cheeses, garlic salt, an pepper
My mom made this up. It is so. GOOD.
Well, as previously stated, I make mix CD’s.
I think that’s a hobby.
THAT’S my hobby.
There we go :)
I’m not too sure I’m talented.
I hear I make good mix CD’s and have a good taste in music.
Is that a talent?
Cheryl says I read aloud Shakespeare really well.
Is that a talent?…….
…………….. /: ………………-
OH! I KNOW!
I can do a C.R.A.Z.Y. duck face. Like, it’s LEGIT.
Same song, same verse. People need to get over it. I LOVE this place.
I have only ever been to one Art museum in my life and it was this one in Medellin, Colombia that honored this special Colombian artist that paints and sculpts and does the whole shibang in art about fat people. He has sexual pictures, mimics famous paintings in his style, etc. But in the museum there was also other art. Now, I’m not going to lie: I do not like art museums and I’m more of a modern art person. So besides the fat people, I remembered this 3D painting. It was so. COOL. You can’t really see, but it has paint brushes, trumpets, guitars, violins, tools, and other stuff glued together and splattered with paint. I don’t know why but out of the few “modern” art pieces, this was my favorite. In this same hall/ room there was this other paitning that was cool, like neon colors. I mean, I like the old paintings and stuff that have like secrets hidden in them, y’know? I think right after we saw this picture my brother and I started playing hide and seek or tag or something in the museum. We got in trouble :)
Adam and Eve picture by Botero (said Colombian artist) I saw this one.
Come Away With Me - Norah Jones
So I googled this and from what I read it’s stories…?
This may seem self centered because I wrote it, but these are my two favorite monologues from my show.
But I guess our lives just went on. Isaiah and I adjusted pretty quickly I would say.
Acting light comes up again. This time, L.’s acting double and friend 2 are acting out the story.
I kissed Jason Turner twice in kindergarten. Not on the lips, but on the cheek. It wasn’t anything special. (Laughs) I actually don’t even think he noticed. We were on our way to pick up papers from the teacher and I had had this major crush on him. (Cooties didn’t exist in my world.) As I was walking back to my mat on the ground, he was going towards the teacher in my direction. So, when he passed, I just… well, kissed him. And then, I did it again. (Laughs) It was odd really. This girl kissing a boy…. (Pause) I sometimes wish I still had my kindergarten confidence. I wish I would’ve realized at a young age that I just had to embrace the world, not be afraid of it. Then maybe, just maybe, I could’ve kept that “kindergarten confidence” and used it in the tough times in my life….
Acting light comes one. L.’s acting double is there, alone, acting out what L. is saying. L. and her acting double both have the picture described in their hands in a picture frame.
I fall asleep with his picture next to me every night. You know the one that’s blurry from my birthday. The one where you can only see one-eighth of my face, but you can see his face fully smiling from the side? (Pause) That’s my favorite, you know. .. I know it hurts you. Lately, you’ve stopped trying to be tough about it. It hurts me to see you hurting. It kills me when I see you cry. Because yes. I see and hear you cry because of him. And I want to tell you that life goes on and someone better is going to come along and sweep you off your feet, but I can’t. I can’t because secretly I feel the same way you do. Honestly, when he told me, I wanted to yell and scream until I broke. (Pause) But I didn’t. I didn’t because I couldn’t. Once I saw his old, worn face, I loved him all over again. And that sucks. Because I know you still love him too. I remember when we were all talking and I called him that really bad name because you told us to express our feelings, you told me later on that you never wanted me to think of him that way or call him that because he was my father. And all I could think was, “How can you still respect him after what he did to you?” But I kept my mouth shut. Because I knew you were barely holding it together and I didn’t want to make you hurt more. Because I love you, mom, and everything I do, I do for you, so that I can make you proud. I never want to let you down. I work hard and strive for perfection because I know it makes you happy.
The Intertwinement of Souls by Cheryl Spring Cedillo and Libia Marqueza Castro
I’m tired of trying to make myself special. Of trying to do things that might make me stand out. It’s exhausting! And I know why I do it but I shouldn’t. What’s wrong with NOT being special?
That’s the question I need to ask myself. No matter how hard I want to answer it and tell myself an answer, I can’t do it. I’m so different in my home world that people misunderstand me. I’m so different in my school/friend world that I don’t get responses or my actions don’t get a response. What do I lack? A special talent? Brains? Personality?
I guess that’s the difference between being “different” and being “special.” Being special is almost like an honor and is ALWAYS positive. Whereas being different is just…. there. It’s almost expected now.
What makes someone special? I wish I knew. That way, I could save myself the useless typing and your time.
I guess you could say I’m different.
I decided that for my tattoo I want “health” and “hope” next to each other in Sanskrit behind my ear. People may think I’m a terrorist but who cares. Sanskrit is a beautiful language. Sanskrit or Japanese.
I CAN’T WAIT.