Almost There

If you're dancing to Michael Jackson's Thriller in the shower during final exams week, you must be a pretty damn happy person- If I may say so myself.

It's all coming to an end (just to start once again in about a month) and I'm not sure how much I've accomplished. At this very moment I'm just happy I'll get some time off to write and do nothing. And well Christmas is just around the corner.

What wouldn't I give for a clone... life would be so much easier.

You Were, You Will

His name was Nicholas. Also my neighbor. My friend's dad. Andrew and Charlie- if I remember correctly. He used to talk to me when I'd sit outside. He'd actually listen to all the things a 13-year-old had to say. I really liked him. I liked his attention. The way he looked at me with kind and wise eyes. He'd ask me questions only someone like me could answer. He knew I enjoyed that. He knew.

"I'll never understand why Charlie doesn't like you that way," he'd say. Funny thing is that I had a crush on Charlie for the longest time. I used to think that he'd be just like his dad. "You're smart, funny, athletic, witty- you're such a catch. I am in love with you but he doesn't see what I see." This felt nice. This "love." I wanted it- almost needed it.

The same way you ought to take a test and be of a certain age to drive, I think you should also take a test and be a certain person to treat others. Growing up, I learned two important things, respect the older and protect the younger; I was basically trained to care for others. But most people don't grow up to this. Most people grow up to make fun of the kids for being innocent and make fun of the older for being slow.

As I made my way to the Math Lab, a lady (over 60) walking the other direction carried her umbrella open. "It's not raining inside, grandma," someone said. She wasn't hurting anyone. If anything, I think she was just trying to protect herself from us.

What is it about grownups and their need to take advantage of a child's innocence? What is it about teenagers and their need to laugh at the elderly? You were a child too. You'll be old later also.

Hidden

I've always been told by the wiser that it is absolutely necessary to find pleasure in the small things in life-

As a writer, I make simple things look like a big deal. I mean, you can't never know what story could be behind an empty cup left unattended next to the stove. Was my roommate getting ready to pour a drink when someone called and she had to go? Did she have a guest who changed his/her mind about a refreshment?

There's a story hidden in everything and it is my duty to find it. And if there isn't one- I just find an excuse to make one up.

For tonight, I find pleasure on "Shy Ronnie."

Illness

The second Tylenol Cold pill makes its way through my throat and I keep hoping that this will be the last one. I don't seem all that sick anymore but I still feel sick. I'm beginning to think that at this point it's all in my head- and maybe I had too much fun taking three sick days (away from school, work, life) that I want to hold on to the idea of being sick.

Isn't this another story in this book I keep writing? How I made my way back to success from taking a week off? How I'll be able to recover and smile at the end and get away with things as I usually do?

At this point I don't know. I do regret being away from writing. I regret that. Every day. And yet I do nothing about it. Life sucked me up. I can't live in wonderland while I'm busy in real land.

I begin to care. Grades don't matter as much as people do. At least to me. At least that's how it is now. I know I won't remember what I learned in my Stats class in 30 years, but I will remember who I took that class with.

I'm trying to focus in what is really important. What really matters. Brands don't matter either. We're our own brand.

Life and Me

Alright, let's try this again.

I've been watching Marley and Me for about 30 minutes now and it is so hard to see people writing all happy and not want to write myself (and look that happy). I vaguely remember when this movie first came out but I do remember vivdly that I wanted to see it. However, the whole idea of a dog being the main thing in the movie didn't thrill my friends enough to come see it with me and I guess I didn't think it was one of those movies I'd be okay with watching alone (yes, I do go to the movies by myself sometimes). Also, I gotta admit that the only reason why I wanted to see this movie was because Jennifer Aniston was in it and I'll forever love Rachel (from FRIENDS)- I know, silly reason to wanna see a movie. Good thing I have HBO and they're playing it now. After I've had one of the best breakfast I've ever had.

I love to mix all sorts of foods when I eat. I told Sarah the other day that I used to put smoked ham in peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. They were heavenly. Haven't done it a while though. This time around I made me some delicious eggs (which I can actually flip inside the pan so they cook well) and added some leftovers of Indian food. I know it was some weird sweet white rice and chicken with yellow sauce but don't ask me for names because food wise I remain very ignorant. Did I mention that I also had amazing toast and orange juice?

At this point you're probably wondering why I get so excited writing about breakfast. Well, I'm a college student and reality being, my grades are a priority so due to homework and studying, I miss a lot of meals- breakfast being one of them. For the past month, I've been eating a blueberry bagel with cream cheese for breakfast (which may explain why my jeans fit funny nowadays) and my usual hot caramel macchiato. So I guess having something besides a bagel must have really made my taste buds happy.

But that's not the only thing that changed today. I feel I've been consistently irresponsible for the past few weeks (if you're my boss, AGS president, professor or mom, this is all fiction. I'll be sharp at the office on Monday!). I just haven't been on top of things because I've had too much in my hands and my brain eventually shut down on me without no warning. And maybe the fact that I'm in a relationship now kinda gives me a reason to slack off and have some fun for a bit.

But where am I now? In my living room watching Marley and Me. Yes, that was my attempt to make a joke. I got into Auburn University but no longer considering the idea to go there (So long 45 dollars that I paid to apply there!). Applied to Cal State LA and realizing that the idea of me continuing my education is way more important than where I do that. Working on my UC statement; still not sure of what to say.

This makes me happy. The part where I spend my morning drinking coffee and writing. So remind me how I got to the point where I'm too busy all the time to do this? I don't know either. But it is good because I'm living and life is good.

Yes I'm a very optimistic person. And after a conversation I had last night, I realized that I was raised to be optimistic after growing up in a country like Colombia where hope is perhaps the most real thing you have to hold on to.

Growing up has been an adventure. When I was little I used to dream of seeing my name in books, as the author. It's funny how some things never change. Not even this Friday morning, when all I wanna do is write.

Well, I better go back to reality, finish the movie and get some homework done. After all, if I ever wanna graduate, I better keep that GPA up.

Help Me

I'll be turning 21 in about 18 days so it's time for a reality check. I fell asleep during my Italian midterm. Just thought I should share.

I have not done much writing this semester and I'm not happy about it. I also don't want this post to be about whining of things I haven't done. I just really wanna write for you, those who read. So I want to hear what you like to read and I'll write it.

Looking forward to your feedback :)

Became My Hero

Here comes the Yankees. Don't hate, I will always be a Yankees fan. Actually, the Yankees is one of the reasons why I haven't written lately- I really wanted to wait 'til we'd win the championship to update. However, the more I thought about it the more I knew it had to be now before I'd get busy with something else.

This semester has not been what I expected. Who would have thought that doing what you love could cause so much stress? Maybe I'm not doing what I love? No, it's not that. I hope (fingers crossed).

When I was little, I happened to read Leonardo da Vinci's biography and the guy kinda became my hero. He was a polymath, scientist, mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, painter, sculptor, architect, botanist, musician and writer. It was the first time that I knew of someone being able to do so many things in only one lifetime. I wanted to be just like him. I still do.

This is what created the problem= me wanting to do more than I can do. Or maybe I can? At the end of the day, I don't know. I'm tired and have been since I can remember. What I do know though, is that if I can make it through this semester successfully (including good grades and keeping my GPA at or above 3.9), I know I'll be able to make it through anything.

But for right now, we're up by 2.

About To

I should really be in bed. I'm not gonna lie, I WANT to be in bed. Every single night I think the same thing "I'm not getting enough sleep." I can't help it. Really, I can't.

However, I'm happy. Really happy.

So far I've only applied to Auburn University (which has now become my last choice) and they accepted me. It feels weird. I've been dreaming about going to college (like an actual university) for as long as I can remember, and now it's becoming a reality. It's nice to know that I have a future- that I can keep going.

Next stops= UCLA, Berkeley, UC San Diego, University of Southern California, LMU and UNC.

The trip is about to begin.

My (Hi)story.

Is it weird that I think about writing every time I'm eating chips and salsa? Right, I didn't think so either. Chips, salsa, writing. . . it's all related anyway.

My International Politics (IP) and US History (USH) classes are really opening my eyes to things I never had the chance to see before. We watched a documentary about Germany invading Russia during WWII in my IP class. It was pretty shocking and heartbreaking. I saw actual footage of people during those times. I saw hunger, sadness, blood- lots of blood. It wasn't easy to watch.

And then my USH class just provides so much information that I never had access to (right now how the US reacted towards WWII). I mean, I honestly feel a little jealous of kids that went to school here, because I went to really small schools in Colombia and I think my history classes were limited and provide little information. I feel like I've been missing out a lot. But thankfully now I get to have it.

It's also helping me to come up with new ideas for future writing so I guess that's a good thing. Oh, and I've decided to double major in History- ta ra!

Things are good. I like the way things are going. I'm hoping that I'll be able to do more writing once I'm done with my committee (for Alpha Gamma Sigma)- which should be some time soon. I'm ready to spend Thanksgiving with my best friend and her family. I'm ready to be 21. I'm ready to go home for Christmas. But I'm not in a hurry to get there yet. Things are good now. And they'll just keep getting better. Hopefully.

If it's not clear, the picture reads "I am one of the 25,000 people that die because health care doesn't cover me.

A Couple Of Maybes

Let me lose.
Let me crash and burn.
I don't know if I can do good no more.
Tell me I'm done and that my chances are none.
Save me from my own insecurities and simply let me go.
Cover my eyes with your ways and do me wrong.
Don't you save me now if you will be the one to do me worst.
Walk away while I pick up the pieces from the floor.
Walk now while my pain is numb.
Walk know when I don't know love.
I was not meant to win so I should be able to deal.
I'll forget you or so I say.
You'd be nothing but a frame- in a line, in my hands.
Shame.
We weren't meant to win.
Just walk away.

As I was eating dinner tonight (a corn dog and chips and salsa), it hit me that I needed to write something. Life has been pulling me away from you- and that is supposed to be a good thing. But then again I'd like to think that you missed me and were waiting to hear from me.

Ever since I've been living on my own, I have been putting my tough face on. You know, the one that says to the world that I can take anything. But always knowing deep inside that most of the time this doesn't apply; I'm human- I get hurt, angry, happy, excited, etc.

My problem is that I wanna help everybody. All by my little self. I wanna take care of people and make sure everyone is fine. I wanna make people happy. That is after all why I write. I wanna take people's mind into this world I have the power to create. But I always run into this wall that reminds me that I CAN'T help everybody.

So how do I know when I'm supposed to stop? How do I say to myself, "this a lost cause, let it go." Do I even wanna do that? I don't know. But I do know that I don't like waking up one day wanting to put everything aside, and wanting to be five, and sleeping under my mother's arms.

Maybe I need to write more. Maybe I need to actually create those stories and hope that they would eventually reach someone who needs them- and they will actually help them.

I wanna start taking pictures again. I wanna show people how I see the world because I see the world being well. I see the world changing and I feel it can only get better from here. Hold me accountable for this. Ask me for pictures if you don't see them soon. I need your help to remember.

Rain

I saw the Angelenos walking hurriedly with their umbrellas. It was raining- something so unknown to them. Nobody would pause or slow down; the faster they could get inside a building, the better.

I looked around and couldn't make eye contact- everyone was looking down. I was looking up, I was smiling. I was happy. Happy to feel the rain.

I sat on a bench. A bench that it's usually taken, but not today because it was wet. I sat there. I smile and promised myself some things. People that passed by seemed confused because of the lonely girl sitting under the rain.

But somehow I think that lonely girl was happier than anyone that walked by her. Point made.

The Morning After

After watching the movie 500 Days of Summer, I realized that I was better off by not believing in Forever. And here I am today, with life reinforcing this thought.

During one of the greatest moments in my life, I thought a lot about the future, about what was gonna happen next. I made plans, daydreamed about things, envisioned my upcoming days. But after that great moment, nothing else happened. Well, I moved to L.A. because there was nothing else left for me from that moment.

Yesterday was such an amazing day. From beginning to end. Even the not so good parts of yesterday don't even look so horrible anymore. But today, the story is way different. From beginning to end.

I'm glad that yesterday, I enjoyed my moments, and not even once gave tomorrow (today) a second thought. It didn't matter. The only thing that matter is what I had right in front of me.

Friday Mornings

I really don't like waking up early but it is almost my duty to do so on a daily basis. Today was different though, because today was Friday and I'm beginning to really like Friday mornings.

Even though today is about the only day out of the week when I could potentially sleep 'til 9 (that is the latest I could ever sleep these days. Crazy, I know), I'm giving that up to have breakfast with two friends of mine. And why would I ever do that?

Ever thought of something you really wanted to see yourself doing when you'd grow up? When I was little, I used to walk by restaurants filled with people doing business. Maybe important business or maybe they just wanted to eat kind of business. My point being is that I thought it would be cool to be one of them at some point.

At that was me this morning, talking about business over a cappuccino and a California omelet. It's happening one by one. The more I live, the more I see my dreams coming true before my eyes.

Quit reading this and go live!!!!

Maybe

I was always a little jealous of the girls that kept diaries growing up. I thought that they could always find bits of their own history in them while I would probably forget most of it at some point. I was right, I did forget lots of things.

Yesterday, I saw a picture of my cousin, Stephanie. I think she was 5 the last time I saw her and I think she's 17 now. It's been a while. We don't even really talk. She looked all grown up in the picture. I only had this image of her as a little kid and whatever happened in the middle got lost in translation.

I cannot remember much of us being little. And I really wanted to. I wanted to think that we were family and acted as such once. Maybe I was too little. Maybe I should have kept a diary.

Get Closer or Hide

And then DARPA said, let there be internet!

Ever been thirsty and yearning for water, and when you're finally drinking some water, you feel like you've been born again? Okay maybe not to that extreme but you get the idea- that's exactly how I feel right now. I finally have internet again.

Am I really that technology needy?

I carry a cellphone around and if I'm not in class, I'm probably using a computer or playing video games. I guess I somehow just answered my own question.

But if I didn't have my cellphone, I couldn't keep in touch with my family (I live VERY far from home) or text Taylor, or talk to my friends, or check my email (meaning AGS-related stuff, or even your comments!). And if I didn't have a computer. . . well I suppose I could write on paper but it's not nearly as fun or fast as doing it on a computer. And don't even get me started on video games, that is seriously the only way I relieve stress!

Some people fear technology because they think some individuals stick to their toys and alienate from the world. I don't do that. I use technology to be closer to the people far from me. Even with you, dear reader, believe it or not, I wanna be closer to you. But I wouldn't change human interaction for the world. You could never compare touching a machine with the feeling of touching some skin.

Where has technology taken you?

photo taken from http://www.unescap.org/unis/press/2007/aug/space.jpg

About Time I'd Show Up

News:

• UC application is now available online = I'm freaking out
• My Auburn application has been completed = I will finally be officially a Tiger. Even if I go to Berkeley.
• Got yet another scholarship = thanks for the love, donors.
• Some of my peers told me this weekend that they enjoy volunteering more this semester than they ever did during the Spring = We are doing an awesome job.
• I will finally get internet at home this week = I will once again be writing here on a daily basis. Yay!

I'll Never Stop Trying

The lights and movement woke me up. My grandpa, grandma and brother were getting out of the truck. I got ready to follow them but my grandma told me to stay where I was and not to make a noise. She was crying. I didn't understand what was going on. I looked out the window and saw my mom. She was crying too. Next to her there were about 8 men. They all looked like soldiers with their uniforms and their big guns- but they weren't. "Why is the little girl still in there? Get her out! Everybody out!" one of them said. Grandma came and got me out. She held me against her and I was able to feel her tears falling on my shoulders. I still didn't know what was happening. I just heard my grandpa tell one of the guys to take all the money we had but not to hurt us. That we were a family. Grandma's sobbing became even louder.

I must have been 4 or 5 when The Guerrilla, a rebel group in Colombia, pulled us over. They were known to do this- stop people on the road, kill them, take their money and burn their cars. Somehow, we're all still alive.

Today somebody told me that I take life too seriously and therefore I stress myself and over think things way more than I should. Perhaps I do.

But if I gotta be serious so no one goes through what I've been through- then I'll be serious. If I gotta stress myself in an attempt to change the world- I'll stress as much as I can (even if my voice is never heard). If I gotta over think things to make sure I can help you (whoever you are) with whatever you need help with- then I'll over think things until I can think no more.

This has got to be the most difficult thing I've ever written in my life. I just got back from volunteering at the "Alive & Running 5k" which was an event to raise awareness and funds for suicide prevention. At this event I was told I take life too seriously.

There was a banner at this event with pictures of people that had committed suicide (posted above- sorry I couldn't turned it around but it was taken with my cellphone). I had a chance to see this banner and look at the pictures. Most of them were smiling. They all seemed so normal and happy and I couldn't help but wonder what could have possibly gone wrong. Maybe someone didn't take their lives too seriously.

A little boy and his mom stood by my side at some point. "Which one is it mommy?" the boy asked. She pointed at the picture of one of the guys that were smiling. "That's uncle Jeff, honey."

As I stood there I promised myself to never stop trying to change the world. Even when people think it's lame or even when they tell me that what I do won't change anything. And maybe it won't, but it's a start. I promised them. I'll never stop trying. Whatever it takes. Even if it means taking life too seriously.

Moments Like This One

No I didn't die and yes, it has been a while.

I was recently chosen as Committee Chair for one of Alpha Gamma Sigma fund raisers so now I'm in charge of 40 people. That and class, and work and volunteer work- and I could seriously go on and on.

But enough of that! Yeah, let's discuss something even more important than the reasons why I don't sleep much.

Today, I volunteered on a course-marking event. I was the header for this event and in charge of four more people. My idea of marking a course (for a 11k/18k run) is walking, maybe even riding a car, and stopping every now and then to put a sign or something. This couldn't be farther from the real deal.

This run apparently is for people that are hardcore into running (the whole 11k/18k should have been enough of a clue) and this run wasn't a flat one- but one that would at some point reach an elevation of 1226m! I've been whining about not being able to work out for the past three weeks but I think that today I was able to make up for that one.

I don't think any of us was mentally prepared for a hike ('cause that's really what it was) but no one backed off when we were given the instructions and I felt very proud of my crew. After the first mile- a very steep one, I was wondering how much longer I could go on because my poor shape was already giving up on me. But then I looked back and saw these four bodies behind me, with their backpacks on their back, with the sun on their face- I asked them if they were okay and they nodded with a smile. This REALLY took my thoughts of giving up somewhere else. As the leader, I had to stay on top and set an example- and with a group so ready to do what needed to be done, I just found some extra strength from I don't know where to keep going.

Our hike was about 6.8 miles long. I'm so very proud of my crew. We did it and I know we got our strength from each other.

Moments like this remind me why I do what I do. And they also remind me that there are things worth fighting for.

What are your moments?

photo taken from http://images.publicradio.org/content/2005/01/21/20050122_point_mugu_2.jpg

I'm A Murderer

I make decisions on a daily basis (and I'm sure you do too). It doesn't matter how small they are (Should I take the bus to school instead of my car; should I sleep ten more minutes this morning; etc), I know they will affect me somehow at some point. Sometimes I feel like I'm too young for some decisions, and old for other ones- but there's always a decision somewhere to be made.

I dropped table tennis last night, in order to rearrange my work schedule, and have more time to write- because after looking at my schedule for the past three weeks, I didn't set time aside to write (shame on me). I also gave up some sleep yesterday so I could catch up with my Stats homework; but I did give up breakfast this morning in order to sleep 20 minutes more than usual.

Now, when it comes to writing, it's just about the same- As much as I'd love to explain in full detail what I'm writing about, I am one of those who thinks that there's a chance someone may take my work and just put their name on it. Right now I'm working on a scene where James (my lead's dad) has discovered that he has a heart condition. His immediate reaction is to keep to himself and protect his family from such daunting fact. Now what's the problem?

Should he die through my story or not? One of the best feelings in the world (at least for me) is to be able to create something. Every time I write, with every single keystroke, I get that feeling (no wonder I'm a writer). James is my creation and even if you may think what I'm about to say is silly, it breaks my heart to think that he would die- and what's worst, that Jenny (my lead) would have to go through it.

Why am I considering his death? Because his wife is set on a decision that I need to change and his death may change her thinking. Notice how it sounds like I have little control over the characters? It's true, I don't. There may be some things I can change but others that I definitely can't.

I'm no longer sure why I started this post to begin with but I do know something, I'm working to make a decision on James' life and I'm thinking hard about it (so hard that I'm sharing it)- but when it comes to something that affects me, I just do it with little or no thought.

Are we all so careless about ourselves or have I forgotten that what I do today will come back at me tomorrow?

photo taken from https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaI8JQdeWg8J3JihJ_CYBHb9jD6VHHsMeXacP0AUIeXo1kzJA1wtZsi7igUb-atnnIjqalU8-1YBdJxZPSBwybIqEfys8DimZ-uGfnstBYVdKywESkJYzBmfjz-XZJdVdHqozrF3fRiiKo/s600/Jesse+James-Death+photo-1882-age-34-St.+Joseph,+Mo.jpg

For A Good Cause

I just got back from volunteering at the Huntington's Disease Association of America (HDSA) 5k run/walk. I'm tired and hungry and have LOTS of homework to do so I'll let you enjoy some bad quality pictures I took with my cell. Oh! And forgive my I-just-woke-up face.

I was one of the tattoo artists for the little kids =D

And also did some face painting!

At this point they were letting the runners know that the race was about to start.

These ladies were runners who kindly let us paint their faces and they also were kind enough to pose for me!

And the winners are...

Little People Count Too

Boss: Ashley, do you remember when I interrupted yesterday?

Ashley (puzzled look): Uh. . .

Boss (cutting me off): Well I did that because I told you to only receive training from me, don't ask Jimmy (not a real name) any questions.

Ashley: When was this again?

Boss: Yesterday. You don't remember?

Ashley: Are you sure it was me?

Boss: Of course I am, you were asking about the computer.

Ashley: I don't remember.

Boss: This did happen yesterday. But don't worry, you didn't do anything wrong.

Damn right I didn't. I didn't work with Jimmy yesterday and I'm hella sure you didn't interrupt me asking questions about computers- I'd only ask people that have been formally trained in computers (I'm pretty computer savvy).

What is it about people that have a title that makes them think that anyone who works below them know nothing about anything? I have an awful memory, I'll say that- but I didn't work, with Jimmy- that's a fact (I looked in the schedule). Getting called on something I didn't do doesn't bother me as much as the fact that people with titles (usually) don't believe in the "little people."

In "Nickle and Dimed," Barbara Ehrenreich mentions how people would ignore her just because she was a maid or a waitress- only people "at her level" would greet her. Now I'm aware this is way different but all the rivers eventually fall into the same ocean- When I was still working at the theater and I was up for review, I approached my manager and said "My review was up about two weeks ago, am I still waiting for you to call me into the office?" That same day she called me in. She said I was a great worker, and in the last part, during "comments and suggestions," she said: "You shouldn't be so insecure." I asked her what she meant by that and she said that she didn't like the way I asked her about my review. First, that comment has NOTHING to do with my performance at work, and two, insecure? really? No wonder why you're a theater manager.

When do we get to stand up to these bosses and called THEM on their mistakes? Life works in a funny way- people move up, they get greedy and they forget things that matter.

Photo taken from http://vacascom.blogspot.com/2006_09_01_archive.html

Small Things

I always find a way to whine about not having time in whatever I do. If I'm having a conversation, there's always an "I never have time to sleep" line. If I'm writing, there's usually a "this has been a hectic week" comment; that I positioned strategically just so it's not too obvious that I'm whining (or maybe I have the illusion that it isn't. Shame on me).

But the thing is, even though when my play time (parties, BBQs, Time to Relax, etc) is limited, that doesn't mean that I don't have time to:

• smile to the cashier at the store.


• greet when I walk into a room.


• hold the door open for the person that is coming behind me.


• offer my assistance to those who claim that they need help with their schoolwork.


• make small chat on a line (cafeteria, bookstore, etc).


• give way to the car that's trying to get on my lane.


• And more. . .
  

I know we're all busy but I can assure you, that the things above take less than a minute and you can make A HUGE DIFFERENCE IN A PERSON'S LIFE.

Maybe the cashier at the store is losing faith on people because every customer he/she had to take care of that morning were rude, and here you come with a smile- perhaps the cashier will get some joy out of your kindness. Or maybe the guy in front of you has been waiting in line for a while and really needs to talk about something that happened to him earlier.

These things are really small things but they can always lead to bigger things. See that stranger a few feet away from you? He/she can be your friend with just a smile or a hi. Maybe he/she needs some assurance from you or maybe you will get that from him/her. Or maybe it will just be a nice conversation- but it's only in your hands to make it happen.

The small things you do CAN provide happiness and they cost you nothing- if anything, you'll benefit too. So, will you make time to make a difference today?

Photo taken from http://www.martincreed.com/exhibitions/small_things/MC_SmallThings_03A.jpg

Let's Try Something

One of my gifts (well not really but just roll with it for a second*) is my ability to keep an open mind when trying new things. I don't like it too much when things change and that change is out of my control, but when I'm the one making the change, that's a different story.

My brother and I fought a lot when we were little. I said "fought" because there was always some sort of physical contact involved and trust me if I could have avoided that somehow, I would have. However, there are two things my brother and I will always have in common (maybe more but I'm too tired to think straight), we're both Steelers' fans, and we like ping pong (or table tennis, if you like the fancier term). Actually, it's more like we like to play against each other. Ping pong was just one of those one-on-one games where we could prove who was better. Although the game was pretty even most of the time.

One day though, I decided to do things differently- attempt to spin the ball (like the really good players did it on T.V.), maybe move differently and so on and on. With some time, I got fairly good at the game- to be precise, I had gotten better than him (in your face, big bro!).

Today I had some sort of instruction on the game. Even though I've never played seriously (other people may think this, but my bro and I were pretty serious about our games), I can do things people that have never been instructed can't. Why? Simply because I gave it a try.

Don't sit on your couch to watch T.V. tomorrow, make plans to try something new. Invite a friend, a relative, or just yourself. Use your days wisely because you don't know how many you got left.

I'll be volunteering tomorrow**, what will you be trying?

*Not sure if that's a gift.

**I'm not new to volunteer work but I am to what I'll be doing tomorrow in particular.

The Writer

Yes, I'm a cheater. Bear with me, crazy week. This a post I wrote a few months back. Enjoy!

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It feels like a miracle- making it through the week. Once Thursday shines on the other side of my window, I know the weekend is coming and so are the homework and due papers. But soon enough, it will be Monday all over again.

I had enough time the other day to do some blogging. I came all excited to express my ideas but at the end of my entry, I hadn't said what I initially wanted to say. I wanted to cancel my entry and write it again but I was already three minutes late for class.

"Luck Story" (The almost canceled entry) stayed in my mind for the rest of the day. I could not understand why I hadn't been able to write what I initially wanted to, and instead ended up with an entry that seemed useless at the time.

Later on, in the quietness of an empty break room, as I was doing some reading, I realized that in order to write what I initially wanted to write, I first had to write "Luck Story" so I could actually make my point.

Am I The Writer Of My Writing?

The other day I ran into my friend's sister's blog. As I was reading entry after entry, I felt like I was getting to know the girl who wrote those entries. Ever read someone's blog and felt connected to them? Ever thought of what they were doing while writing the blog? (Eating, watching T.V. . .) Ever wondered what their writing place looked like? (An office, bedroom, library, park. . .) Well I usually do, but aside from those things I also wondered how much true there is fixed in our blogs.

When we talk, we have limited time to think about what we're saying. If I'm writing something, I can work on the same sentence over and over again. I can start a draft in the morning and come back to it later. I can even edit the whole thing after it's been posted!!! But all of this was just a thought and I really didn't know how to explore it further. And that's when "Luck Story" came along-

To summarize, my previous blog tells the story of the first time I was ever selected to receive something free. But there's also another story about how unlucky I was as a child. What could this blog possibly say to you? That I was remembering my childhood? That I saw a colored bird and it reminded me of a traumatized memory? That I was wondering why I love reading so much?

Truth be told, neither of the above things apply. I was just sitting here, waiting to go to class, wondering if what I say to you here nearly gives you an idea of who I am. Now maybe I'm over thinking this a little too much, or perhaps I just can't go on one day without coming up with a weird question, but

CAN YOU TELL WHAT SOMEONE IS LIKE FROM THEIR WRITING?

Scusi, Parla Italiano?

It sure feels nice to be home. I miss my friend and it hurt like hell to leave, but it's nice to come back and do all those things I know how to do- this blog being one of them.

Italian was my first college class ever. When I was in high school, I really wanted to learn Italian but the nearest place was about three hours away- there was no way on earth that we could afford that trip twice a week. So when I stumbled across an Italian class near to where I live now, it was a no brainer for me to take the class. At the time I had no hopes of going to college (no money or time) but being able to go to this class made me fairly happy.

I don't know what is it about languages but I always thought it'd be so cool if I could just go up to someone who spoke a different language and start a conversation. I mean, it made sense, most problems happen out miscommunication anyway- I still think I can somehow end that.

About two days ago, I received a call. I had signed up on a soccer website, announcing myself as an available player looking to join a team on an adult league. The guy was calling me to see if I was interested. The funny part is that when he called, he apologized for his poor English. Don Luciano was his name. Scusi, parla italiano? (Excuse me, do you speak Italian?) I said, and we were having a conversation.

I made mistakes, said a few words wrong, couldn't remember others but it sure was nice to have that conversation. With a little bit of struggle, we agreed that he'd come by my house to talk to me personally, and let me try on some jerseys. It was working, this whole time studying this language and it finally paid off (well, it'd be nicer when my mistakes become minimal but I'm not complaining).

It really makes a difference, to know that you are able to do something you really want to do. Oh and I think Don Luciano was happy to run into someone that spoke his language. Maybe I found a team to play with, but if I'm lucky, someone to practice my Italian with also.

Luck Story

I really am getting used to writing daily but I am visiting my friend in Northern California and even being here right now writing this bit, I feel guilty for taking up some of her time to post something.

The friend I'm visiting is certainly a friend I wish I could see daily but thanks to a 400-something-miles distance, that is not quite possible- So I'll do a little bit of cheating and post something I previously wrote.

I will always attribute my love for reading to that one lady who randomly selected me to give me a book. As a kid, I rarely ever felt lucky. If anything, I used to think I had bad luck. And this wasn't a state of mind, it was a reality.

One day I went with my family to some sort of festival. In the crowded place, I found a booth advertised as "Colored Pets." I walked over to the man that seemed to be the one in charge of the booth and he showed me a cage filled with birds of all sorts of colors. "You can buy one for five dollars, or try to pick the blue ball," he said as he reached for a box with a circular opening on top of it, "out of this box for one dollar, for each time you try." I quickly searched through my pockets and found five dollars that I was given minutes earlier to wander around with. The way I saw it at my short age, was that if I'd play my odds well, maybe I could get three blue balls out of the five chances I'd have with the whole five dollars, instead of just buying one bird- "This way I won't have one lonely bird," I thought.

After my five tries, I was empty handed. No money but no bird either. Somehow I managed to pick the white ball every single time. Now I can't help but question if there was a blue ball at all, but that's off the subject. Because I didn't want to give up in taking a bird home, so I went over to my mom to ask her for money. When I told her what it was for, she simply answered: "It's not right to keep a bird captive. Your dad is the one that does that kind of things." (My parents are divorced and my dad DOES have birds 'til this day). So I never got the bird.

But that one day when my second grade class was receiving a visit from a new editorial company that wanted to do business with the school, my odds suddenly changed. The lady from the editorial walked in and was going to give away a copy of the book they were trying to sell the school. Everyone around me quickly raised their hands and yelled "me, me, pick me" in what it seemed like a chorus but I just put my head down, knowingly that there was no way in earth someone as unlucky as me would get the book.

Maybe it was the fact that I didn't ask for it that the lady decided to pick me and give me the book. But I chose to think that she somehow overheard my thoughts and how badly I wanted to be chosen that she decided to give it to me.

Once home with the book, I read it that same day. Then got another one, and another one. And another one. Perhaps it's some sort of celebration to my first glimpse of luck, or maybe books are just so damn good. Whatever it was this event marked the beginning.

This I Believe

This I believe, that although you are different from me, I receive you as an equal. That as an individual I have rights, but as a part of a community, I have responsibilities. That we can love, understand and cooperate with each other. That we can make a difference- but we have to be active and work towards that goal united.

Have you ever been in a crowd of people but somehow felt lonely? Like you were just too different to fit in? I'm guessing you probably have, and I have too- and let me tell you something, at least WE ALL have that feeling in common.

In any way, if you've ever wanted to find out if there was someone out there who believed in the same things you did, now there's an approach you can take, the "This I Believe" project.

As gathered from their website info, This I Believe is an international project engaging people in writing and sharing essays describing the core values that guide their daily lives. Over 60,000 of these essays, written by people from all walks of life, are archived here on our website, heard on public radio, chronicled through our books and television programming, and featured in weekly podcasts. The project is based on the popular 1950s radio series of the same name hosted by Edward R. Murrow.

Now, you may not be able to make contact with a person that shares the same believes as you do, but at least you'll know you're not alone. Or you can always stick to blogger because you may run into a blog as amazing as this one- I mean, I'm just saying.

But really, this place has pretty cool essays that date as far back as the 1950's (from their radio counterpart) and most of them (if not all of them) discuss pretty inspiring things. You can listen or read, or even shop for books that they've published. And they have all sorts of themes to narrow down your search (i.e. Citizenship, race, etc.).

AND if you're in the mood to share with the world (and generations to come) what you believe in, you will find guidelines to submit your own entry!

So, what do you believe in?

So Damn Vulnerable

The knock on the door surprised me. I wasn't expecting anybody and I was hoping no one would come either. I didn't have any plans other than to sleep maybe. I just didn't want to see anybody- myself was enough company for the day.

When I opened the door, she stood there in tears. Before I could say a word, she reached for my torso and the next thing I felt was the wetness of her tears on my shoulder. I've never been really good at this kind of situations but I just stood there and held her.

When she let go, her makeup was just a blur in her face, and I was sure part of it was now on my shirt; but that wasn't a concern at the moment. She didn't look good. I felt sorry for her- I looked at her and I wanted to protect her like she were my little sister but whatever I needed to do, I was too late for it.

"Would you have a beer with me?" she said in the middle of a sob. I nodded and followed her to the kitchen.

When we were finally sitting, I sipped my beer quietly, hoping I'd know what to do when my time to do something would come. But what could have hurt so much for her to be like this? A break up? Someone close died? But that didn't make sense. She wouldn't come to me for that. We were never really that close. Not as much as we were right there.

"I was raped," she said. I think I almost felt the beer making its way back from my stomach. She was sitting there, in front of me. So damn vulnerable.

It's so hard to write this without feeling guilty in a way. I try so hard to tell my friends to do good, to take care of themselves, to be careful, to choose wisely and when something like this happens, I wonder if I didn't try hard enough.

Oops!

It is impossible to not get personal with this post so I won't even try.

Today is my first day back to school and it has been CRAZY. Been up since 6am, and it's been 11 hours since and I can tell you I'm not even close to the middle of this day.

I'm not sure what I was thinking when I said I'd try to post daily. . . Maybe I will eventually but at this point I'm just going crazy.

I'll have more free time tomorrow and I promise I'll deliver a more decent entry, and even make up for the ones I missed. So please check back tomorrow for more!

Dear Thief

Dear Thief:

I woke up this morning very tired. I spent most of my day yesterday in class and volunteering- and most of my night studying for a test. I still have to get up thanks to the fact that I have to go work; you see, if I don't work, I don't make money and therefore I don't eat.

I opened the front door and it seemed like a nice day. So nice it made me forget a little bit about my back pain or how much I desired to still be in bed. I walked up to my car and saw the broken glass next to my right passenger door. I looked around for a second looking for you, but you didn't have the decency to wait. You were in a rush, I understand.

My right passenger window was no longer there. I know because I tried to touch it but my hand went past the frame. My heart was beating too fast so I didn't want to sleep anymore- I wanted to wake up from the nightmare. I looked inside the car and the only thing you took was a few Cd's I left laying around. You even left my graduation pictures intact. You saw my face and didn't feel sorry for the damage you were doing. Oh, you were in a hurry, that's right.

A few months back someone broke into my car. It made me sick. I couldn't understand how someone could deliberately do that to someone else. And for some Cd's. I said it over and over again- I wish this person would have knocked at my door, I would have given him the Cd's without a doubt. I would have.

I'm going on a road trip this Tuesday to visit my friend T. To Northern California. For a better idea, like an hour or so from San Francisco. So I figured it was time to organize my music so I'd have a good mix for the seven (or eight) hour drive. I went through my Cd's and there were seven missing. It reminded me that someone bothered to break my window for them.

While going through the Cd's, I realized that they were all in the wrong cases- and I actually found the ones I though the Thief had taken. He took other ones. The ones I won't miss. Among the ones I thought he had taken, there was a CD I put together myself. It was the first mix I ever made.

When I saw this CD again, it made me really happy. I made that CD when I was 14, I couldn't stand the thought that someone else could have have that, so it was a relief to have it in my hands again.

It makes no sense to me. I work hard to have what I have, you work hard to steal what I have.

Their Celebration

Originally posted on Sat. Aug 29, 2009.

It seems like my first day at my new job will be this coming Tuesday so in the meantime, let me tell you about "free work."

Today was the welcome day for the new students at my school. As a member of Alpha Gamma Sigma, I get to volunteer in all sorts of events, and this one was one of them. I had to be there at 7.15am, 'til 2pm. Not an easy thing to do if you're not getting paid for it- unless you truly do it because you care. I got to meet some of these kids. Some I liked and some not so much (don't get me wrong but those three girls that would say "oh my freaking god" every two minutes weren't fun).

I spent the whole day under the sun and my red face is not too happy with me right now- it burns a little. But I didn't feel too sick to do the work. We set up tables, chairs, breakfast items, gift items. Guided freshmen around the campus and talked to the ones who needed some conversation. It's funny, they all had that this-is-the-beginning-of-the-rest-of-my-life look in their faces.

That was the reason why I didn't complain about the heat. Or standing up. Or running around trying to gather people. Even though I was a little part of it, I was still part of their celebration- the one that marked the beginning of the rest of their lives.

P.S. Thank you all for your concern, I'm indeed feeling better!

It's Not Rocket Science

Against any recommendations, I'm on my feet, battling a fever and a sore throat. I've always said that we can cheat our bodies; pretend we're fine and maybe our brains will buy it. Obviously this doesn't always work but you can't blame a gal for trying.

I was able to enroll in that Italian class I want to take so badly. And I'm hoping I don't change my mind later because the classes I have for next semester can't be dropped. I either take them or I take them. And college applications to transfer are coming up soon.

Tomorrow I'll volunteer from very early 'til a little after noon. And then get the textbooks I didn't buy online. Everything seems to be sailing fine.

This morning, I was watching on HBO the movie Rocket Science (2007). This film brings us the story about a boy who stutters but decides to join his high school debate team (yes, Lizzi, it made me think about you- have you seen it?). He really joins because of this girl that he's attracted to who is a great debater in the team.

As I have a no-spoilers policy, I'll only discuss something from the movie that can't be missed. The boy at some point says to one of his friends, "one day you'll find love and everything will be different." And this line certainly struck one of the weakest nerves inside of me.

I've been there (in love), but I've also been a non-believer. It's pure logic, when we share with someone we love, we enjoy it more. When we do something we love, we wish we didn't have to stop. When we. . . well, you get the idea.

This is one of those things that it's so damn obvious, that we choose to ignore it at times. When one of my friends asked me why I work for free (volunteer) when I could be hanging out with friends, I told him that even though I loved my friends, I get a nice hint of happiness in me when I'm helping others (and either way I always make time for my friends).

It's not rocket science, when we do something we love, we just simply do it better. Are you doing what you love?

Sick, Sick, Sick

It feels like forever since the last time I was here in front of this screen. Yesterday was a very long day, but here I am in L.A. safe and sound. The flight was good, watched football games for most of it. The movie (G.I. Joe) could have been better- although I may have been too exhausted to completely enjoy it.

I can now say so long wanted job because I couldn't make my interview today. I am sick. As a matter of fact, I'm very sick (so feel special that I still made the effort to post something. . .Or I should feel special that you're reading. Never mind!) but that wasn't the reason why I couldn't go. When on my way to the interview, I received a call from school saying that they needed me to take care of some stuff immediately if I wanted to complete the process to work at the Outreach center. So I figured it was better to make sure I'd be hired there okay than risk it and maybe not get hired as a Supplemental Instructor or at the Outreach center. Yes, it sucks but I'll get over it. I hope.

So it's Wednesday and it's my time to talk about writing. And I'm gonna tell you how much writing I've done, ZERO. None whatsoever! But bear with me, I got home around 11pm and I've been running errands since I woke up- and I'm sick. However, now that I'm home I can do more writing than before. And I also have five days before school starts. So I'm setting up a 3-page daily goal.

Hopefully I'll feel better later so I can accomplish this goal.

Give Me A Ride, I'll Give You A Date

There's an inside joke that I only make friends to have rides to the airport. I fly a lot throughout the year and thanks to being a student (= being broke), I don't really wanna pay for a cab so therefore I rely on friends to take me to the airport.

This time, my ride home from LAX is just about to become a night out for me. I'm not sure why we live in a society where people (not everyone, I know) don't want to do a favor just for the pleasure of helping out someone you care about. I'd even do a favor for a stranger if I'm not extremely busy!

So I'm always cool with offering gas money, but this time that just won't suffice. JC is a guy I used to work with. For whatever reason, he likes me. So he'll pick me up from the airport and in return he'd get an awesome dinner and movie night with me.

Before you go on with the judgement that I'm using him in some sort of way, I've told him before that we're good as friends and the last thing I want right now is a relationship- specially since I could be moving away in less than a year (if Berkeley takes me, cross your fingers!).

So this will be part of my (social) life tonight. Mexican food and G.I. Joe. Sounds like a pretty decent night, right? I just hope I'm not too tired from the flight.

Alright, time go. Now road trip to Atlanta and then flying to Los Angeles. Madness, here I come!

I Put The A In Math- Wait, That Sounds Lame

Today will be a day I think I'll spend shopping and packing as I get ready to leave Alabama.

If you happened to read my previous entry, "I Quit," you read words written by a person not happy with the job she used to do- that person being me. As I get ready for the beginning of another semester in college (August 31st), I'm also trying to figure out what I'm gonna do work wise for such semester. Funny enough I'm no longer a Freshman, and this Fall will welcome me as a Sophomore.

I've already managed to get a job with the school at the Outreach Center doing the very prestigious task of clerical work (ha!), which I'll work from Tuesday to Friday. The thing is that I'm also a few days away from getting another job. This other job won't offer me much hours or lots of money, but it will be a fun job to do. Basically, I will have to go to a math class twice a week, and after the class, I will spend an hour or two with students that need extra help with math.

It may be a little stretch for me if I get this job, but I really want to do it. From my own experience, a LOT of people have trouble with math and sometimes that is the reason why they're behind in their education- so if I can help them get through it, then I'll take the stretch, even if it means less hours of sleep for me (and I will be getting paid for it too so it's not like it's such a stretch. . .).

The interview will happen on Wednesday, a day after I arrive to L.A. And right after the interview, I'll be tested on my math skills. If hired, I'll have my training on Thursday. So here I am, brushing up on my math skills.

I've always been good at math. I used to want to be an Aerospace Engineer when I graduated from High School but thanks to the three-year break I had to take to work, I ended up switching my career path. I like math because it's so mechanical. It either works or it doesn't. There isn't a gray area, you have it right or you don't. But most of my classmates (and other students) don't see the beauty in that. They just think math is a bunch of complex numbers- and it may be sometimes, but for the most part, it isn't. I am looking forward to this interview and I really want this job because I'll be able to make a difference (hopefully) in a student's education. So I'm preparing as best as I can to get this job.

How does a writer end up liking math so much, I don't know.

Wish me luck!

Head To The Bench

When I was 14, I decided to join my school's basketball team. I had been playing soccer since I could remember, and most people seemed to think I was good at it, but somehow I just wanted more- And I thought basketball would provide that for me.

During preseason training, summer time, we had practice twice a day. The first one from 7am to 9am (more like 11 but I'll stick to the "official" time). And during the afternoon from 5pm to 8pm (also the "official" time). After the first month, however, basketball was taking a toll on me. My knees were not designed for jumping (other than the usual trampoline routine anyway) and soon enough they began to give up on me. I didn't stop there though, I thought I still had it in me, that I could push myself a bit further if I really wanted this thing to work.

But then it came down to the point that my knees would randomly lock up on me every now and then during practice, making it impossible to even perform the simple task of walking. One day while having a lock up episode during practice, I directed myself to the bench- very slowly. I didn't ask permission to leave the court. Partly because I knew at this point I didn't need permission (my coach was well aware of my condition) and also because I just didn't wanna look at my coach and to find a look of disappointment in his face. After a few minutes sitting on the bench, staring at my feet, coach sat to my side, patted me on the back and simply said "Let it go, Ashley."

It's not that he had given up on me, it's just that he knew better. It seemed to me that this was the time to give up.

Summer time is not an easy time to have practice, much less twice a day. It's hot and some coaches get too pushy. Yes, they want the best from their players, but some forget what that actually is.

Two days ago, Madison Park wrote an article for CNN about a recent death of a high school football player caused by the high temperatures. She also reported an alarming number of 39 heat-related deaths to football players since 1995. I know we all want to win but is this the price we're willing to pay?

I know how important football is for some people. It is for me too. Like a religion (don't give me that look, you'd understand after spending two minutes in Alabama). Sometimes it means a shot at college, or a professional career, but what happens when it means the end of your life?

According to the article, the coach denied water to the player. Why is it that sometimes we get to stubborn to stop? That we can't see beyond our own point of view and yield a little? Sports are supposed to keep kids out of the streets, out of trouble. But this wasn't the case. Yes, I know we're human and we all make mistakes, but you gotta admit this was a hell of a mistake. And it goes both ways. The kid just didn't wanna disappoint so he kept on going.

There's a time to push yourself to the limit but there's also a time to head to the bench.

A Few Changes

As things progress and the day I fly back to Los Angeles approaches, I've decided to spice things up a little. This blog isn't entirely about me, it's actually more about writing that it is about anything else (like you haven't noticed that already, I know). So now I broke the week down into the subjects this blog focuses on and ended up with something that looks like this:

• Monday - School


• Tuesday - (Social) Life


• Wednesday - Writing


• Thursday - Film


• Friday - Work Life


• Saturday - Misc.


• Sunday - Current Events

This is pretty much tentative and as long as I don't have an awful load of school work to do that day, I'll try to stick to this schedule.

So today, Sunday, we start with current events.

I keep writing about how uninterested people are about what happens with their surroundings so this section is needed. Every week, as long as time permits, I'll pick an article from the news and discuss it. Obviously I'll be looking forward to your opinion as well- And don't worry, it won't always be about politics (pinky promise).

So let's get things started!

Igniting Spark

In the last month I worked at the movie theater, I watched the Julie and Julia movie preview almost on a daily basis. I'm not that great at cooking, nor do I watch any cooking shows (except for Top Chef every now and then) so why I ever wanted to watch this movie is still way beyond my understanding.

Since the night it came out, I made plans to go watch it. On a Monday night. But then it became a Tuesday night. And a Wednesday. And a Thursday. And I'm not sure how this movie deal got postponed so much but I'll blame the NFL preseason for now.

Last night, a Friday night, I gave my plans a second chance and once again mentioned to a friend that I wanted to see that movie. But as time went by, I was already in the verge of canceling on myself (which doesn't sound too good now that I write about it) until my uncle came over.

"What are you doing tonight, kiddo?"

"I was thinking of watching a movie, why?"

"What movie?"

"Julie and Julia"

He nodded. I'm not sure why or how but I asked him if he wanted to come along. And surprisingly enough, he said he did. I say surprisingly because the title "Julie and Julia" should be a big hint that this ain't no action movie like "Die Hard" or "Lethal Weapon" or "Predator" or well, you get the idea. But to be honest, I'm glad I'd had company for the movie- and knowing my uncle, a free movie ticket and free snacks also.

For some reason, out of the many times I watched the previews for this movie, I thought that Julie was trying to write a book (no worries, I won't spoil the movie for you if haven't seen it), but she was actually writing a blog (I guess this could be a spoiler if you did think she was writing a book as I did- in that case, oops!). So this changed my thoughts about the movie- now it had gotten personal.

As written above, I won't spoil the movie so all I can say now it's what happened with me while watching the movie. First, it made me realize how much I enjoy writing here and how much I look forward to hear back from you, the reader(s). Second, how much I love writing in general, and how I know that the day I get to see "Written by Ashley Kay"somewhere, would be a pretty damn good day. Third, it made me think about my friend T. and how lucky I was to have her (not that I didn't know that I already). Somehow it made me wanna start everyday as if I really wanted to be awake- regardless of the time.

But isn't that what stories are all about anyway? Sometimes they inspire us, sometimes they anger us, the make us cry, or laugh, or think- but whatever feeling they ignite in you, they're always there to give you some awareness.

It made me realize why I write- Because I wanna be that igniting spark. Don't we all?

I Quit

It was my first day in yet another customer service job. "This should help with my textbooks," I thought, as I put on the theater uniform. I wasn't happy to be there. It had nothing to do with having to work, I've always enjoyed working, I think it just hadn't been a good day for me.
My shift was supposed to start at 2pm and end around 10pm. It was another sunny Saturday in L.A. "Here's what you need to do, if you have a question, find me," Bob, one of the theater managers, said as he handed me a schedule. I was officially owned by the company and therefore had to take orders.Serve people, that's usually the basics of customer service. Smile even if you don't mean it; you can't sit because somehow that would offend a guest. If you're hungry, it doesn't matter- you have a scheduled break and that's when you get to eat.

The guest I'm there to serve is the one that cares less. He doesn't make eye contact. He doesn't acknowledge you- and maybe pity is what causes this. He doesn't care to know that I am more than a job and that is just a way to get me through college. He doesn't know that I read on my spare time- for fun (imagine that!). That I play sports or that I like to have a beer to accompany the Sunday game.

I performed my duties accordingly and once my break time comes around I clocked out and went to the break room almost running. I got a cup of soup from a nearby cafe and once I got back into the tiny break room, I was forced to eat on the floor as the four chairs that habituate the room were currently taken. I wasn't the only one on the floor- it would be impossible with a staff of over a hundred. But I was one of the unlucky who had to sit next to the overflowing trash can. The mixed smell of whatever the trash can contained, took away any sort of appetite I had and I gave up my soup to the smelly monster. Perhaps contributing to worsen the situation.

I put my game face on and went back to the floor. I had four more hours to go. I was hungry,and my feet felt like a time bomb, like they could have given up on me any second now. I punched back in and walked over to my next duty. I was there to make everyone happy. To make sure that they come back again so whoever owns the place gets richer and richer. And what does this guy do for me? He doesn't even provide a humane place to eat, not for me or the others. For the managers maybe? They don't use the break room because they have their offices.I guess they wouldn't know what it's like to eat next to a giant trash can.

"Yale," I kept repeating to myself.

Setting Goals

Some writers may have the luxury to stay at home all day and do all the writing they please. However, I (along with millions of others) don't have that luxury. I am a college student which translates into little time to write.

In order to get all the things I need to get done on a weekly basis, I keep a rigorous schedule (and I stick to it). As I've mentioned earlier, writing is picky and sometimes you feel like writing and sometimes you don't, but I've come to realize that the more you write, even if you're not sure of what you're writing, the more you actually WANT to write.

Fall semester is on my windshield view (11 days to go!) and I am already afraid of my schedule. Class wise I'll have Elementary Statistics, History of Western Civilization II, International Politics, Political Philosophy, and Knowledge and Reality (Which I'm actually trying to switch for Intermediate Italian I, so cross your fingers for me!). There's also a table tennis class, because if I don't play a sport during a semester I'll go crazy. Three weekly meetings- as Alpha Gamma Sigma board member. Actually, I think it's four meetings, but I'm not sure yet. Volunteer work. And there's also a part-time job in the way. Scary, huh?

So for all of you who have full-time jobs, children, dogs, whatever it is that you have, if writing IS what you WANT to do, then it's time you start doing it. Even if you can only schedule an hour daily to write, if you do it daily, eventually you'll finish whatever you start.

Setting up a "page goal" is also very useful. What that means is that you set a two-page goal per day, so you won't go to bed until you've written your daily two pages. And if you happen to get inspired and write 10 pages, then way to go! But if you don't, as long as you those two, then you're good.

If you don't work towards that thing that you want, it's unlikely that such thing will come to you from the sky (Unless you really want rain). I know it's easier said than done, trust me I do. But I also know NEVER is a good time to give up. Who knows, maybe that story you've been pushing off to write will save someone's life. So what are you waiting for?