Looks as though this blogging may be more than a suppresion for my bordom. Today, I joined my college news paper and if all goes well I could be the staff blogger. I fall into many activities,but the love of writing may be a profound passion. Wish I could share more, but we know how somethings go. Plus, I'm in my college library discussing this spirited moment in my life. Sadly, I have to leave, American History in 5 minutes.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
back to school
Due to constant procrastination and lack of ideas, I purposely abandon my blog. Carelessly forgetting about those that take the time out of their day to read about me navigating my way through life. My dearest apologies to all of you.
With the fist day of school looming over the horizon, I should have a novel worth of words to describe the ever changing kaleidoscope of emotions I have. For starters, I have never been so excited about going to school; it has never been a place of friendship and first crushes for me. School was less than an institution for learning, and more of a boxing ring every fourth period gym class. As of this day, the sound of a whistle makes want to scream. Today, I am more confident than the 312 pound teenager from high school.
College is the most free spirited place I will probably ever encounter. There, no one gives a damn about who's wearing the flyest khicks, or the guy who walks with a switch in hips. Last semester I arrived to my 8am English late and standing before the entire class; wearing a white tank top with ketchup stains, shaggy ripped jeans, and a pair of sneakers with no designer logo stitched to them . That whole wardrobe is definite fashion faux pas in public school,and if worn to a pep rally or during lunch I would probably have to pack myself in a box and relocate to another country because the teasing will never cease.
My self-esteem wounds are finally healing from the piercing jokes about my weight and my period which made herself widely noticed on the back of my jeans during a school assembly. It was those moments of humiliation when I wanted to tear my flesh and become something other than human.
With the fist day of school looming over the horizon, I should have a novel worth of words to describe the ever changing kaleidoscope of emotions I have. For starters, I have never been so excited about going to school; it has never been a place of friendship and first crushes for me. School was less than an institution for learning, and more of a boxing ring every fourth period gym class. As of this day, the sound of a whistle makes want to scream. Today, I am more confident than the 312 pound teenager from high school.
College is the most free spirited place I will probably ever encounter. There, no one gives a damn about who's wearing the flyest khicks, or the guy who walks with a switch in hips. Last semester I arrived to my 8am English late and standing before the entire class; wearing a white tank top with ketchup stains, shaggy ripped jeans, and a pair of sneakers with no designer logo stitched to them . That whole wardrobe is definite fashion faux pas in public school,and if worn to a pep rally or during lunch I would probably have to pack myself in a box and relocate to another country because the teasing will never cease.
My self-esteem wounds are finally healing from the piercing jokes about my weight and my period which made herself widely noticed on the back of my jeans during a school assembly. It was those moments of humiliation when I wanted to tear my flesh and become something other than human.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
two-step
Sorry If this clip seems a bit strange from all the other apples in the sack, but I had to post this. It's been a year now since I've began dieting. Lately, I've really became bored with the typical thirty minute work out. Dancing have became my primary source of calorie burning. Every moment I'm doing some random jig at work or in the elevator to a disco medley . The routine in the video is a crowd spectacle and the dancer really crush alot of stereotypes about rhythmically challenged Caucasian people.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
life
I received heart breaking news about the passing of a dear friend of my family. He was killed in a car accident on his way to work. Allen left behind a wife and four small children who will never feel his touch or hear his laughter ever again. I've came to the twenty first year of my life, I can sleep with the lights off, tie shoes laces,even ride a bike without falling on unforgiving ground. But death remains one of those childhood stepping stones I have yet to grasp .
What is death and what does it look like? Maybe it's a heavenly translucent figure with wings and a halo, or some ghastly horror ripped from the scenes of an X-Files episode. Death is most perplexing to me when one can have a conversation in the supermarket with a long lost friend , or a wave hello across the street to an acquaintance and within the next day or moment that person is dead.
It's been 48 hours now since Allen has left this earth , and still there is this stubborn part in me that won't accept his death. Although I have heard the gossip of strangers and the confirmation by witnesses of his death, I believe Allen is home with his kids. Maybe If I see his bruised corpse the truth will sink in, or perhaps the dismantled SUV both Allen and his wife were driving in during that dark morning of his death.
I was raised to beleive that earth is not our home, that God has a closing time on all of his children. The most challenging part of this belief is never knowing when it's your time to leave all wordly possesions behind and journy to another realm. After I click the publish post button, I'm going to value human life and thank God for every breath . I'm gonna laugh longer and cry while I'm laughing. I'll give forgiveness a try.
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