Scintilla Catch-up.

Yes, I am well aware that I am behind in Scintilla. So, let’s get started

For the Twenty-Three things I have decided to do twenty-three lines of poetry describing my life/events from January to now. Not really poetry, though…

Two more weeks and I will be a freshman.

I’m excited and nervous (surprise, surprise.)

E.T. is noticing me again and I don’t know why

School is okay; a lot of work and a lot of anxiety.

Lonely. The exact thing everyone told me it wouldn’t be

The guy in my math class asked for my number

No matter how mature I try to be, they are going to stick to the common view

Do not make the mistake of thinking I am like them.
With glares that say, “You’re a bitch,”
I am running out of hope, out of everything
Nothing seems to numb the pain
I wish I was fixable, and lovable

One of my classmates said, “Mi favorita mujer es Cecelia.”

Other people notice me: Math Man talks to me less and less

Told Math Man that I will not be able to hangout with him tomorrow.

Her reasoning is “I’ve learned by lesson with the others and I am not so naïve anymore.”

They have beautiful bodies, gorgeous faces, awesome personalities,

Really talented, and they’re tall.

I am a really stupid, ugly little shrew with nice teeth

I don’t know what is worse: losing the man you like, care for, love

—what have you—to a girl and watching them ride of into the sunset

Or losing him to a girl who only liked him to get to another guy

But have her still fuck up your relationship.    

 

Interesting poem but makes no sense.

 

Pet peeves….. Okay, the first one that springs to mind is people who act a certain way but when they meet the actual thing, they reject it. Who? Well, like the people who act dark, grunge, and such. I was the real thing and got rejected. I was the one who wore actual animal bone earrings, painted animal skulls, actually enjoyed strange music, voiced my opinion and didn’t conform to what others believed. I thought and believed what I believed because in my heart that was what was true. I never thought something because someone told me to think it.

I never bothered lying about how I felt about something. I don’t hide things because I make it a goal to only do things that aren’t… shame-worthy? Sure, I fuck up, and I have fucked up royally several times but who hasn’t when it comes right down to it? What counts is if you change or not.

Back to the point, though: I hate posers and liars. Why bother pretending to be something else? Honestly what are people going to do to you? Act like little brats? Yes, I get that words can deliver more pain than a brass-knuckle punch but why hang around people who don’t like you? Stop lying and seek out those who don’t hurt you, and stop ostracizing those of us who are what you pretend to be.

I am not going to do Scintilla eleven because I have never been interviewed and I changing how a story ends only hurts because It is usually how I wanted it to end.

Scintilla Eight, Running.

1. What are your simplest pleasures? Go beyond description and into
showing the experience of each indulgence.

My indulgence besides reading and sleeping is running. As difficult as it is I enjoy the release of endorphins and how no matter whether you on the verge of sobbing or an unbridled rage: It always makes you feel better. Making yourself go faster or increasing the incline, and feeling the burn as well as the knowledge of how powerful your body truly is. Something so simple as sweat running down your face, the fatigue, and the funny wobbliness afterward when you push yourself can make things better for a while.
Then the hell yeah feeling when you look into the mirror day after day and you see your body improve little by little. The fuck-you-very-much feeling you get knowing that even though that girl swiped dream-man out from under you, she hasn’t taken the joy of knowing your own bodies power. She hasn’t taken that knowledge your body is just as strong as your will. It is the feeling that reminds you that you are worth more.

Running is a lot like drawing for me, it is my sounding board; my dance floor and stage; my therapist. Running has shown me that I can I pound out every one tears with every step I take.

Scintilla Day 7

1. List the tribes you belong to: cultural, personal, literary, you get
the drift. Talk about the experience of being in your element with your
tribes.

2. Talk about a time when you saw your mother or father as a person
independent of his or her identity as your parent.

First Topic:

Um… okay. I am Catholic, and I love being a Catholic. I am a Libertarian. I am a foodie like the rest of my family and an artsy kind of person. I can’t resist the urge to make something. Food, drawings, poetry, songs, music now that I am learning guitar, books and well, blogging. I do not stop thinking about making things.
I love to read. Reading has saved my from so much and has given me friends, although fictional, when I felt I had none. There where I still sink into my mind and pretend I am in that world instead of mine. I guess I do that because I am not proud of who I am. When I see myself as a fictional character, living in that books world, I see myself as brave, strong, fit, really smart, mature beyond my years, kind, talented, and cool headed; able to handle any situation with grace and a sure-mindedness that clams everyone down. I imagine people seeing me as level and someone you can go to for help, not a weak and fragile, pixie-like person that I am truly seen as. Or the melodramatic problem causer who is the one who needs help. Or the myopic bitch.  What is funny is that two nights ago I realized what I despised in people were really qualities that I had and after all this time I didn’t hate people, I hated myself and projected upon others. I am told I need to love myself, that I am a good person. That I deserve to love myself yet I find it hard to believe when I hear people say that I have characteristics that I hate.

Myopic
Bitch
Melodramatic
Problem bringer
Week
Whiner
Dumb
Hot tempered
Immature

I hate those thing yet I have been said to have every one of those. There is always the reminder that if I am do not like these things I can change. I am trying really hard, seriously. I am doing my best.

_____________________________________________________

Topic Two:
I think there was only a brief time in my life where I didn’t see my parents as individuals, and that was when I was very young. My parents, especially my mother, made sure that we didn’t see them as just “parents” and as actual people. Teenager I might be, I do have a lot of respect for my parents. One thing that gets on my nerves is that people say you can’t be friends with your children. Bullshit. That it utter bullshit. My mother is my parent and one of my best friends. If I hadn’t had her as my friend as well as my mother at certain times, I would have killed myself when I was eleven. Yet because my mom wasn’t conventional, I am still her writing these words.
I am not a parent but I speak from a different kind of experience: befriend your children. It might actually save their lives one day.

Ink.

Scintilla Day Four

Talk about your childhood bedroom. Did you share? Slam the door? Let
  someone in you shouldn’t have? Where did you hide things?

I had a few childhood bedrooms. The first real bedroom I had I shared with at least one of my sisters. It was either my sister Rachael or my sister Sasha, both of them older than I. I remember getting moved between the two a lot. It seemed like every week I’d be in a different room of the house. with Sasha I would be in a bunk-bed, and with Rachael I would be in a twin bed. Then when we had to move from Houston to Austin, I ended up sharing a bedroom with my brother who was five years older than I, (he was ten and I was five) when we had to live in our Grandmothers house. I am going to tell you right now that sharing a bedroom with my brother was disastrous. I shared a bedroom with him twice. Once in my Grandmothers house and another time in an apartment.

The room I have now I do not share with anyone because when my mother designed the house she made sure everyone had their own bedroom. With this bedroom I have slammed the door a few times but I don’t do it very much at all.
I don’t hide things in my bedroom because I don’t have anything in there that I would need to hide.

 

In things besides Scintilla…. I have made a work out schedule and have completed the first round.

Scintillia: “Money Can’t Buy Me Love.”

Ever since I started thinking about more seriously, I have become very unsure of “my dream.” I have goals, sure. What about the lifetime, though? It was not until I was watching a freaking Disney movie (Princess and the Frog) that it hit me. All I actually wanted was to love someone for everything that they are and to have that love returned. I know some of you snarks are probably thinking, “Well, not all of them. You’re not going to love their snoring when you have a headache,” guys, I am talking about deeper stuff. I want someone who will love me even with my horrid temper, the fact that I don’t look like a model—ever—or that I am slightly insane; if he can see past my families house, my race, and my body. If I find someone who will truly love me in spite of all that: I will return that love ten fold. I don’t need him to have a fancy ring, a fancy house, Italian model looks, lots of money, or to shower me with gifts. After the hell I’ve seen, being finally and genuinely loved by someone will be enough. That will be more than enough because if there is really someone who can genuinely love me for all that I am, and not, then I know that person will be for me.
That is why the song, “Money Can’t Buy Me Love” by The Beatles reminds me of what I want most.

 I’ll give you all I’ve got to give
If you say you love me too
I may not have a lot to give
but what I’ve got I’ll give to you
For I don’t care too much for money
For money can’t buy me love   The Beatles. 

Thankful (Scintilla Day 2)

When did you realize you were an adult?

I haven’t really had that yet because I am not yet an adult. I would like to think of myself as an adult but deep down I know I am not. I know I am more mature than most kids my age, experience has shown me that, but that doesn’t mean I don’t try to act like an adult.

 

No one does it alone. Write a letter to your rescuer or mentor (be
it a person, book, film, record, anything). Share the way they lit up
your path.

Oh, boy. So many people to name and then you add books and music on top of that?

Well, let’s go with the person who brought me into this world: My mother. She has been there for me for everything. She has watched me go from little baby running around it diapers, topless, to a college student who wouldn’t dream of running around topless. She was the one who was there when I had to go to my therapy appointments and cheering me on during the getting into college process.

She has done a lot more for me than I have written and I am ever thankful to her for all that she has done.

A Mistake Isn’t a Mistake if You Change

I am guilty of this but I can explain the reason behind it. I get hurt easily and I hate to admit that but I have come to learn that if I admit my faults, I can gain control over them. I ignore people for a while and then start talking to them again predominantly because I need time away from them, from the hurt. If it seems like the situation which caused the hurt isn’t going to resolved I try to forget about it thus giving off the “act like it never happened” effect. To some of you this explanation probably sounds lame and to be honest I have come to the realization that there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
I just do not get why people hold on to shit; I do understand being hurt and never wanting to let another person in your heart or mind. I get that but here is what I do not get: People preach about forgiving people, learning to love in spite of mistakes yet ninety-percent of people I have met fail to do this and some don’t even try. They’d rather hold on to grudges, lose a possibly good relationship, and stay grouchy. I know I am not a perfect advocate for forgiveness; in fact I am a very shitty one but at least I try, and eventually do forgive them.
What I am hoping to convey is that I am tired of meeting people who claim to be peace and love when they really are grudges and selfishness. I have forgiven horrible things even if it took me a while to do it; the least everyone could do is try.