Sun and Spirits

     Buenos días! Or rather, I should say good afternoon since I just woke up {from what might have possibly been the best nap I have ever taken} and realized that the sun is shining brightly and proud even though it is almost eight at night. My internal clock is all messed up and I LOVE it. I feel like I'm in Colombia, when ten p.m. means extremely lazy days, sleeping in hammocks, salty beach breeze, and salsa dancing ALL night long. Oh, nostalgia, you bring back some great memories {¿Ay Mamá, por qué me haces asi?}

I Am...

     A little activity my soccer coach made me do. I thought that I might as well share:
I am...
1. A human
2. A humanitarian
3. Hispanic
4. Colombian
5. A daughter
6. A thinker
7. A cancer-survivor
8. A humanist
9. A democrat
10. A student

Dove Chocolates and Huckleberry Finn

     Oh fun fun fun... Fourteen journals. FOURTEEN JOURNALS! On Huckleberry Finn. I can tell that I am going to love AP Junior English. And school hasn't even started! Guess how many I have done... None. What did you expect? Procrastination, my promiscuous beau, never fails to make its appearance. Today, in the form of indulgence with these {amazing} miniature ice cream bars {¡Muy delicioso! and only 70 calories} while, to my ears' content, the perfectly harmonious voice of Norman Goldman flutters, pirouettes, and fouetté en tournants its way through the ballad of my room... life is good. God is great {Salim~ Slumdog Millionare}

A Room Full of Dogs

     I am hiding from people right now. In a room with a bunch of crazy dogs. Who are hiding as well {aren't dogs supposed to be man's best friend? Weird. Maybe they are as people phobic and asexual as I am and I use the term asexual loosely...}. I hate HATE being so antisocial and I hate HATE the unwanted awkwardness that seems to have forever taunted me. I would lock myself in a room whenever my parents had parties and I would cry. CRY. Really, I would hysterically cry because there were so many people. And it makes me soooo nervous; I just couldn't handle it. So here I am, currently writing this blog on my friend's iPad {so cool... sooo jealous} with a room full of crazy dogs and an insane party juking and raving its way outside my door.
     I would like to take this time to apologize for my absence. I have been working on my AP English paper nonstop and I can proudly {with dark circles under my eyes and filthy unwashed hair} say that it was turned in today. Staple parallel to the top and completely unwrinkled. It was a truly moving sight.

Summer Goodbyes

       Tomorrow will officially be the end of my summer. It will be a very sad day in my household {although I'm sure my parents are quite thrilled as I will be getting out of the house}. Three grueling weeks lay ahead of me, seeing as I have gotten well acquainted with the summer spirit. Wind flying through my hair, birds chirping through the morning mist, floating down the river bend... it is all quite picturesque, isn't it? Well, tomorrow it will be replaced by fluorescent lights, awkward desk chairs, and immature sophomore boys... such fun {not}. Summer school starts tomorrow if you haven't already guessed, and tomorrow is going to be one of those I've been going to sleep at three in the morning and it is way too early to function correctly type of days. I am very afraid that the flat G note of my alarm clock will forever be conditioned into my subconscious... bee bee beeee beeep.

Obnoxious Music Damage

      After five, FIVE, failed attempts to get out of bed today, my first thought was crap. My second thought was ugh, I have to get up {band camp is in two hours}, but more importantly my third thought was new clothes! My mom had taken my brother and me to get some new summer clothes, and I found these amazing little cami's that are sooo adorable. Today, I chose to wear a bright blue lace cami topped by a dark orange one that has exotic looking beads on the top part {so retro modern, and I came up with it all by myself}. If I must say so... it was pretty B.A. I even got two car honks and a wave as I dragged my sore, uncooperative body from band to the library {marching is some pretty intense stuff, let me tell ya}.

     We are learning four new songs, two of which are quite difficult {who knew, musically complex marching band literature exists... I never thought possible}. The flute parts are very abundant actually, so I am quite happy despite the fact that some of the music is so high, I feel like taking drills to my ears {I'm sure all of this is causing significant hearing damage}. My mom can't use hearing loss as a reason for me to turn my music down. So for now, I rock on. 

End of Humanitarian, Beginning of Procrastination

     Well this is quite a journey, this blog is. Can you tell... I still have no idea what I am doing? I've been brainstorming over its content, and while human rights is something I hold very close to my heart, it might be a bit too controversial {and according to my parents, there might be some snitches}. Snitches... riigght? As this marks the end of my failed attempt as a humanitarian, I return to normal life {dang it}.
     Summer school starts in a few weeks {and no, I know, I know, you were thinking I'm some juvenile delinquent, but no, actually, quite the opposite} because, in reality, my AP English paper is due in at least a week {which I started three days ago, and I still only have two sentences... Can you tell how excited I am?}. So my love affair with procrastination {and this blog} have not helped my academic life at all. Although, on the bright side, my love life is in full swing with two grandchildren hot in the oven... marching band camp started today and season eight of So You Think You Can Dance has begun {Oh yes, procrastination is a tempting mistress}.

A Short Haiku

The leaf that I hold
Has Droplets of rain water

That makes my hands cold

    ~Justine Josma

Memory From Hospital: Noah, October 11, 2008

This is something I wrote for school. The teacher made us do some creative writing {I got an A, like a boss}.

     There was a dead boy laying next to me. He was breathing, but he wasn't alive. Separated by a brightly colored wall and a curtain, all I heard was feet shuffling, monitors blaring, and his wails. During this particular moment of his existence, he was not living. His ghastly moans filled a hallway so accustomed to these sounds. The translucent lights mixed with his cries of help and blended into the customary mixture of pain and death. He sounded about eight years old, and yet as time passed by, his voice grew older. 

     The Children's Memorial Hospital was my home for about two months at this point in time. I had many roommates, although none of which had been assigned a particular room, just a section of the ICU. The average stay for many of my roommates was less than a week, when they would either be rolled down the hallway to an actual room or back to the emergency room. This time, though, was different...

      The boy was wired to multiple IV's and needles protruded from many angles of his body. For a small duration of time, everything stopped and all movement ceased. I turned my head, and the glare of the ceiling images of daisies and wild flowers filled the right side of my vision. 

     Time passed and the chaotic dance of the hospital resumed. The nurse came, right on time in our daily schedule, to walk me to the bathroom. With a weak but firm hand, I held her armed, and I dragged my medicine pole. As I walked past his section, through a part in his curtain, I saw him. He looked like a human robot with a yellow, slimy covering. His artificial skin was taut over his face, and his eyes were slightly askew. His arms rested on his blankets, and his hands gripped the sheets. Right then, I realized he was not a child. He looked no bigger than to be in second grade, but all concept of age escaped me. He seemed to be as old as humanity.

     I asked the nurse to walk me over to him. The closer I came, the more clearly I saw the definition of his scars. He was hideous. The veins and bones of his body could be seen through the artificial skin. He had no hair on any portion of his body. His nose were merely holes marked out in the area between the eyes and mouth. I called out to him softly to ask him what he was in for. In a gasps, he answered. He had just had re-constructive surgery on his entire body. He had been trapped in a fire and most of his body had third degree burns. I asked him how much it had hurt, but he did not answer. 

The Face Behind the Blog (Part 2: Everything Else)

     Now that I hope you have a clearer mental picture of me, I will briefly explain everything else about myself- more specifically though, my personality. After this, I will hardly ever talk too much about myself, considering that there might just be about a trillion other much more important and interesting things. As for my personality, I cannot really pick another word. Some people might describe themselves as outgoing, shy, crazy, or something like that, but in actuality, everyone is some or more of those things at one point or another. By choosing to describe myself as curly, I am saying that just like everyone else, I am a bunch of different things tangled together that eventually frizzes to constitute me.

     I realize there might be millions of people in the world that are very similar to myself. There might be another person in this world that is exactly like me, according to the Doppleganger Theory of quantum physics! Yet, every feeling, emotion, substance, object, etc. has an opposite. That is an undeniable fact of life that proves itself everyday. I am shy, yet outgoing, quiet and loud. I am rational while being extremely spontaneous. I love peace and quiet, and yet I crave chaos and disorder. Being one of these things makes me want the other, and yet that is what makes me a person, sane and human.
     I read a few lines from The Book Thief by Markus Zusak that explains perfectly what it feels like to exist as a human. It describes exactly what it is like to grow up as a Hispanic female teenager in this society, but as well as the merit and worth of every person despite their appearance and inward attributes.  
     "To most people, Hans Hubermann was barely visible. An un-special person... Somehow, though, and I'm sure you've met people like this, he was able to appear as merely part of the background, even if he was standing at the front of a line. He was always just there. Not noticeable. Not important or particularly valuable... The frustration of that appearance, as you can imagine, was its complete misleadence, let's say. There most definitely was value in him, and it did not go unnoticed..." (pg. 34).
     So with this I would like to end by saying that I am just like everyone else. Similar by flesh and blood, and the same by mind, spirit, and soul. Thank you for visiting my blog, and hopefully I entertained you enough to come back and read some more.

The Face Behind the Blog (Part 1: My Hair)

   
     I have come to the realization that I have not done a good job of introducing myself and letting the world get to know me as the personality behind these words. I sincerely apologize, and I want to continue on by formally saying hello and welcome to my blog. My pseudo name is Rosa Rose, and I started this blog not only to express myself, but to also provide a perspective of life from the eyes of a minority female experiencing the joys and sorrows of high-school and hopefully college or real life further on.
     I would love to give a simple one word explanation of myself, but summarizing the intricate, trivial, and yet important aspects of what constitutes a person is extremely difficult, if not impossible. Yet there is one word in the English language which not only reflects the many qualities that one may possess, but also describes myself and my personality perfectly. This paradoxical complexly simple word which expresses one as well as the whole is... curly.
     I understand that it might be difficult to wrap one's mind around this metaphorical description, yet it manifests myself entirely in its meaning. Curly not only describes my hair because after all, it is like no other curly hair in the world. I'm not just saying that- rather writing that- to emphasis or create some sort of imagery. My hair really is completely different from anyone who has naturally curly hair. I can honestly say that I have not seen or known another person with my type of curliness, except of course for my mom.

     For that very reason, my hair and I have created a very special and confusing relationship throughout the years. We often argue and have extremely hostile moments. We are constantly at battle, and I occasionally commit betrayal by imagining what life would be like if I had straight hair like everyone else. To those with straight hair, I mean that in the nicest way because even though your hair isn't necessarily unique, I am truly jealous of it.      One day though, I will eventually be enlightened and come to accept that my hair is different, weird, and just that many more reasons to love it. It will be a lifelong battle, I have already realized that. What makes it most difficult is people and their ignorance. When they say things such as "Why do you wear it like that," "You must hate having curly hair," and ESPECIALLY "I think you would look so pretty if it was straight..." To those people, thank you for completely bashing my self-confidence. Does my hair not meet society's standards of beauty? Well then thats just one more cause to keep my hair all the more curly!
     I got my inspiration and a lot of ideas for this blog post at JonotJoe's Weblog. It is a very cool site so check it out if you can http://jonotjoe.com/.

New Year's Resolutions

     A new year is finally here! And with it comes new opportunities, challenges, and joys. I cannot help but reflect over last year, and remember all the good and bad. The terribly bipolar weather of Illinois, the recession, the unjust illegal immigration law of Arizona, and of course, the immense amounts of work in which my teachers took particular joy in watching their students suffer. All that, though, takes a back-seat to the amazing memories of my family, friends, Icy Sixteen birthday party, being a teenager, high-school, and most importantly, growing mentally and expanding my knowledge in writing and of different people and cultures. It is incredible how much a person can grow in just 365 days, but I sure grew plenty. Not only in knowledge but height... I'm finally five feet!

     Of course, in redundant tradition and in joyful hope, I have decided upon three things in which this year I will conquer and rise against. First, I plan to improve myself in what is my most cherished and held belief: the liberation of humanity from the clawing grasp of modern society and white European supremest views enforced for hundreds of years by writing and education. I plan to study about other cultures, in particular Africans and Asians. My second resolution is to gain more self-confidence. I would say I am pretty skinny and I guess attractive, but myself being of Spanish heritage, the usual insecurities which come from having curly hair and darker skin are deeply ingrained into my core. Finally, I plan to do better in chemistry. I love science, yet chemistry tends to be giving me a few problems.
     Overall 2010 was awesome, and since it's the first day of the new year, that old saying comes to haunt the new day: out with the old, and in with the new. I hope 2011 will be kick-butt!