I enjoy learning, reading, and sharing information to ease people's work lives as much as possible.
Hugo and I
During eighth grade, we had to write a book report about a chapter book. It was a standard book report, the one rule was that we connected with it. I chose “The Invention of Hugo Cabret” by Brian Selznick. I came to the U.S. when I was nine and only spoke Spanish. Somehow, I was placed in a class where it was all in English. However, I was taken out once a week to read a piece of paper with numbers on the side to see how many words per minute I read. They made it seem like the key to speaking English was reading, so I did just that, or well tried.
The road is pitch black filled with a mixture of fog and rain. I feel my heart sinking and my breath shallower. A figure starts to appear in front of me, my eyes widen. I brake but my car is pulled forward. Tears roll down my eyes, I try to open the door but it’s useless. I take my hands off the steering wheel to no avail. “NO! PLEASE, NO!” I don’t want to go. I refuse to go. I’m kicking, screaming, begging to get out. But the car keeps moving forward and the road just gets darker.
Life Changes = Home Changes
One of my earliest memories from home is learning a song on a car ride. We had the windows down, the wind blowing, and the radio blasting a sad song. “Lo Busque” by Ana Barbara or in English, “I searched for it”, it’s about a person longing for someone that is gone. At that time I was young and didn’t know what the song meant but I remember the guitar playing, the singer’s soft voice, and my out-of-tune voice singing with all my heart. It is hard to explain but that sad song makes me smile every time. To me, it is a memory of my childhood, when everyone was well and I was home.
Hi, I'm Anxiety
Beep, beep, beep. I jolt out of bed, again, looking around to see what is making that awful and scary noise. It’s my alarm. It’s the third time it has gone off today. Anyone would think that I would be used to it by now but even months after having this schedule, it still gives me a sense of panic. I do my three little kicks and shuffle the sheets in anger (very mature I know), then jump out from the halfway bunk to do my bed. Even though I’m fairly disorganized and messy, when you have a roommate you have to be on your best behavior. She’s been my friend since High school and I can’t let her down by making a mess out of this place. I pour water into the kettle and let it heat. Coffee is a must if you want to survive. I don’t have grandma's coffee but I do have instant, which is good enough for me. I get changed, always away from the window so no one can see me, you never know who might be passing by. I brush my teeth, wash my face, and put my concealer under my dark eyes. I thought that I had the dark undereye because of my lack of sleep, but it turns out it’s also because of my genes. Since it’s kind of normal I tried to not wear concealer as much, but when I don’t wear it, people think I’m sick. I put it on, put a little blush to *look alive*, and mascara because might as well. I know that doing all of this to not look weak in front of people that don’t pay much attention to me is irrational, but I also don’t know how to stop.