welcome back

May 20, 2008 at 6:58 pm (Uncategorized)

How can the beauty of language not be connected to the beauty of life?

Now that school is out I will have plenty of time to write and reflect and perhaps that is all I will do today on this cold, rainy May afternoon. I wanted to take a walk, but not in this ugly weather. So, I woke really late – really late—around 1 o’clock and now I wonder what to do with the day. When my mother hates me. When my cell phone is lost. When I can’t see my boyfriend.


This is a fictional piece…

 A mother’s love for her child is unconditional, right? I mean I don’t have children but I assume this to be true. I thought that my mother understood me better than anyone, but I have to come to realize that she doesn’t understand much. I hate, absolutely hate, when we fight, just because she has so much to worry about already – leave me alone! But the truth of the matter is a simple: I AM NOT A CHILD ANYMORE. I hate when she treats me like a little kid and refuses to recognize the fact that I am 22 years old and I am 7 years away from 30 (middle age!). And meanwhile in the back of my mind I think, mom at this time you were married and you were almost pregnant with me!


When parents hinder their children from experience, you deny them from a part of their humanity. I wish she had a greater capacity for empathy, but she has none — I sometimes think. I think  my mother’s refusal to read has really limited her ability to see the struggles of others. It’s sad to say, but one who doesn’t read or refuses to read, will never understand the world in the same way as an avid reader does. I have lived another life in those pages and I have developed at new way of thinking and perceiving the world – one that no one could have taught me except through books. The world is so different to me now. Everything I see is like a poem, I see a story with each new experience, and metaphors come spilling out of my mouth. How can the beauty of language not be connected to the beauty of life?


Although there is a type of detached comfort in being home, I hate being stuck amid these walls again. School is out, and so is my life, it seems. I never knew how restrictive these walls were until I experienced LIFE. I never knew what existed outside, until I let myself open up like a flower in the cool months of April. Whenever that flower has blossomed it never does close up – it only spends its time sulking and wilting….It always turns its head toward the sunlight. It always smiles in the summer rain. It loves being around all other types of flowers and it doesn’t like when night comes.  Flowers are a lot like humans.


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a few scary cats

May 18, 2008 at 3:01 am (Uncategorized)

          “Can you do Angela’s hair?” D asked in a polite voice, one that I fell in love with. I could hear his aunt’s raspy voice on the other end. She didn’t sound too excited.

“Yeah, alright.” I nodded unsure of whether this was a good idea or not. I didn’t know his Aunt J too well, but she seemed nice, just a little off, but I wasn’t sure why. D told me stories about her, stories that would make you cringe and want to cry. But, whenever meeting people I try not to judge from preconceived notions, and I try to see the full human being without judgment.

          I had a dance later on that day and my hair was too frizzy, curly, and not just the way I wanted it. I imagined that I would somehow turn the straighter on extra heat in order to flatten out my waves. I was excited and I wanted to feel good and look different.

          D’s grandfather lives in a large Victorian style home, he told me that a Colonel lived there during world war. I really loved the high ceilings, the long, elaborate windows, and the arched doorways. His aunt lived upstairs.

          Upon our way up the bare stairs, we reached a small space which was cluttered with too many things to name. I don’t remember much other than I couldn’t breath. The air was heavy with smoke and animals. I remember that a skinny grey cat scampered past me and went into the nearby room which was lit by a dim, yellow light. We followed the cat in.

          In the corner of the room, there was a shaggy black and white dog on a leash barking. A few cats fled in and out. I wondered how many animals lived here.

          The room could have looked wonderful. The walls were painted a creamy peach, and the windows were stapled shut with a similar color curtains. The furniture was old and yet full of color, covered in dust. The bed was in the center of the room, it looked like a cloud. There was a fireplace with a wonderful mantle, but it was filled with so many trinkets – a cross, pictures of Jesus, candles, and old socks.

          I took a seat on the bed and waited for her to come with her beauty supplies. D sat down next to me and started to type on his laptop. Aunt J soon came back with a strange concoction of hair gels—one that looked like suntan oil.  Aunt J was a simple woman. She wore a pink t-shirt and jeans. She looked a lot like D with the dove-shaped eyes and Roman nose. Her hair was brown and streaked with gold.

          “You know this stuff is really heavy, it’s good for your hair, and it should keep the curls down,” she showed me the bottle and began to drench my hair with this “heavy” lotion. I could feel my hair becoming curlier.

          “You know before we really start. I was wondering if I could use your bathroom?” She smiled and led me down the hall, and I followed, trying to avoid a cord that was obstructing my path. She led me to the doorway, and I paused when I saw two cats sitting near the white tub staring right at me!

          “Are those cats OK? They look sick,” She looked at me in disbelief. The two white cats looked sat each other and continued to gaze at me with piercing eyes. I wanted to runaway. They looked like they were going to attack.

          “Of course not!” But her smile was skeptical and I didn’t know her well enough to know whether she was telling the truth. I suddenly didn’t have to go anymore and I left the bathroom.

          When I reentered the bedroom, D was still on his computer. “What’s the matter with those cats?” He shrugged and didn’t look up from what he was doing.

          For the next hour, Aunt J continued to straighten my hair and lather it with different gels and oils. By the time she exclaimed that she was “all finished!” I left with my hair looking curlier than it was went I got in. More curls, more curls, more atrocious curls!

          Why! Why! Why! I asked myself again and again. How do I get myself in these messes? With scary beady-eyed cats and smoky rooms and places with no sunlight?

          I think Aunt J was a nice lady, but I don’t think she was paying any attention to my hair. She continued to chat about this and that, and she was easy to talk to, but still I wanted my hair to look straight!

“How many dogs and cats do you have?” I asked when the silence became overbearing.

“I have two dogs and six cats,” I nodded. “I just love animals, you know. I would love to breed them, but the recession…” I didn’t know what to say, so I just kept quiet.

When she asked me how she thought my hair looked, I smiled and I told her that it looked really nice.

          “How does it look D?” He looked up from his computer.

          “Nice,” D said with a smile. “It looks nice.”

It was a relief when D asked if I was ready to leave. I gave him my pleading look and he knew. My throat ached. The heaviness of the air had left my feelings of thirst insatiable. The animals watched as I gathered together my things and headed out the door, down the stairs.

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a sad awakening

May 12, 2008 at 12:21 am (Uncategorized)


It’s been awhile again…Hasn’t it? I don’t know why I just can’t manage to post on a regular basis like I used to? I think a lot of it stems from the fact that I just don’t have time or I always choose to forgo writing time during the day….But, now that summer is approaching,  I will try to pick this back up again. Those who need to write, should write…it is part of our humanity to express and grapple with the thoughts on our minds…


Today is Mother’s Day!!! Happy Mother’s Day!! With the little money that my sisters and I scrapped together, we managed to buy my mom purple flowers and my little sister and I bought a wooden plaque and wrote Best Mom! in all different paint colors – blues, pinks, oranges, and greens. Although every year my mom insists that she DOES NOT WANT anything – we continually buy/make her things each and every year…Who, may I ask, does not like receiving gifts? My point exactly. J



What’s new with your life? Nothing really here. I don’t know what to say. For the first time I am at loss for words!!! What to do! What to say! Let’s see….Ummm….


The other day D and I were driving to dinner and we passed the cemetery in which his Nonna was buried. “Angela take a left here,” he said and left no question about it. My stomach was growling but when I realized I was entering a cemetery it suddenly dropped. I drove through the empty little roads, and I felt as though I was breaking in on holy ground…


“Stop the car here!” I made a stop under the most beautiful dogwood tree that was just coming to full blossom. When I got out of my car and looked up into the umbrella of pinkness I smiled in relief. If could end up buried anywhere in the entire world, it would be here, under this tree… “Angela, come on! It’s over here.”


I followed him past scores of graves, some that were magnificent crosses and others that were tiny and almost hidden in the grass…For some reason I was scared, and my heart started to race. I wanted to leave. I didn’t like this place.

As D walked further and further in the cemetery, I was struck by a feeling of loss that I didn’t know what to do with. I didn’t know what to do with that feeling, the feeling that someday none of us – none of my family would exist…that we would be buried underground and never eat another meal together or take another vacation or go pumpkin picking or go hunting for Christmas trees in Silvermine’s farm….


I tried to push these thoughts out of my mind as I wandered around and admired the bright, sunny afternoon. D lead me to the grave of his Nonna, and when he reached it, he knelt and touched the gravestone – the side that was his Nonna’s (his Nonna has his place ready next to her)…and he murmured some words that only I could hear. A tear slowly fell down my cheek and then another followed. I tried to hide my sadness and when he looked up at me, I only smiled. I could tell his eyes were wet.


“Come on, Angela, let’s go,” but the strange part was that I wanted to stay and listen for just a little longer. There was something that Nonna was trying to tell us, and I wanted to sit and listen to her for awhile longer. He continued to plead as though there was a wild dog after us or something. “Let’s go!”


“Alright…” I examined her grave on last time before we headed off to the dogwood tree and the car.




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i’m done

May 5, 2008 at 1:45 am (Uncategorized)

I moved out of my apartment today. Not because I wanted to but simply because I had to. There was no other choice then to leave that place and this phase in my life. I need to get away from my school before I burst and explode. Beside a few friends and my professors (including hobgoblin, of courseJ), I desperately want to leave and get away from all this drama. I have been interrogated for the past couple of weeks and I can’t take it anymore, I can’t take the pain and torment and depression that it fills my heart. Because this is such an unnecessary nuisance in my life. There are helpless people dying in Darfur and yet these people are concerned about a stupid no-trespassing warrant that should never had been issued in the first place. I stand for justice and what I am facing is UNJUST, yet I am being punished by the university and my peers for it. My mother told me WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS? I have always been good to other people and what in the world did I do to deserve such spite from others?


I hated going back there. I hated the dim lighting and how my roommate’s blonde hair would always cling to my things.  I hated her bouts her silence and how that angry glare of hers that made my insides shiver and cold. I hated that way she spoke to me as though she knew and I didn’t. Maybe that’s why I was never around. Maybe that’s why I purposely slept in other’s people’s places just to get away. Away from that hell. Away from that dark chamber that was always so cold that I needed a heavy sweater. Away from the blank walls and her perfect way of things. Away – faraway from all that mess!!!  


Last night, I broke the rules, probably for the first time in my life, and I decided to resign from my position as an RA at my school. But, I take responsibility for my own actions and I will take whatever punishment there may in front of me. The thing is that the whole issue is pathetic – pathetic!!! And I don’t think it is justifiable and so I guess you could say that I am rebelling against what society claims is right and true. For the first time in my life – I realize now more than ever—I finally ACTED. There are no more Joe Christmas’s in my closet (sorry I could think of no better representation)—I am not running in circles – I am free. It’s a hard world and we hard fragile creatures – so freedom is there but it always overshadowed by our minds and other people who try to snatch it away.


So, I called my mom last night and she was surprisingly sympathetic, there was no yelling and screaming but only a quiet calmness.

“Mom, I’m in trouble,” silence ensued for what seemed like minutes.

“What happened?” And I began telling her my saga and she said nothing just that she had enough of this and that I was leaving in the morning. “I’ll be there at 8,” I felt so relived. Finally someone had an answer!!! I thought I would be the happiest person in the world once I set foot out of that horrible, dreary place that I could never quite call home.


So while my evil roommate was sleeping or pretending to sleep my mom cleared out my apartment. As I took down all my posters and paintings, I realized that the walls were consumed by an overwhelming sense of whiteness – what hell might look like, I though. Her life was plain and simple and nothing on the walls was hers. By the time all my stuff – including my bookcase, my reading chair, and my flowers — was moved out, the room was bare and empty. Nothing remained but blue tacky stuff on the walls and lone tacks, but I felt sorry for her. I could never live in such an empty, lonely place in which not even the windows shed light. A place without books – oh what a dismal place! My mom suggested that I leave a note, but I didn’t want to. “She’ll figure it out,” I said. Someone who betrays you like that doesn’t deserve any goodbye.


After we loaded the car to maximum capacity, we sped away as we listened to the things in cardboard boxes ringing in the backseat. I enjoyed the silence and I didn’t want to disrupt it with anything. I had peace again. It felt good.

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