Writings of My Everlasting Teenage Mind

Today was a rare day in Los Angeles. It was sunny, the sky was blue, and there was no smog. It was clear. There was a breeze. It was a nice day out. So, after my midterm I went and sat under this tree. It was peaceful. It was serene. It was as if for once we were going to be okay. We don't get many days like this in LA. So, when we do I cherish them. On the left is the original picture. On the right is my edited version.

Ed being Ed. We need to shelter this man

Belasco Theatre, Los Angeles Can we just have hairy Joe Jonas Back... thanks.

This concert was beyond epic. Denver, you never seem to disappoint.

Yellow Stone is a smelly yet beautiful place. Clean air. Beautiful sights. Denver has my heart. With the damn river running in the middle of dowtown.

Oh how I miss my summer adventures

Whittier, California

You know how people say that they drink to numb themselves well with me it’s different. Whenever I drink to the point where I am no longer cognitively there it’s a totally different experience. When I drink I feel every nerve in my body. I feel the blood rush to my face, when people touch me, every pent up emotion I have had.  I can hear all this buzz in my brain and it just won’t shut up. It is the exact opposite of what alcohol is supposed to do. I feel the happiness from my cousin’s jokes, the sarcasm from Natalie’s comments, the “you are getting really annoying Dallana.” The only difference is that come in the morning when I am finally sober enough, I won’t remember feeling all of those feelings. That sadness when it comes to the topic of Valerie or my brother. The fresh wound that is of Angel’s death, the fact that when Natalie or Itzel are not around I have to deal with it on my own. The fact that I made a complete fool of myself at Starbucks, or the fact that I went to Target and remember nothing about it. Only when my brain starts to pick things up here and there. I won’t remember feeling everything. I just won’t.  But, I know that for that time while I was intoxicated, I know that I would have felt everything. That urge to cry, in outright sobs, and gasps. I would have felt it. I would have felt that internal struggle of that little voice in my head telling me to keep it together and cry while I was in the shower. Then in the morning when I feel a void in my chest, I will not know why. But, this, this will tell me why.

Childhood at it’s finest

Santa Monica, Ca

It may not seem like I hear your comments about my anecdote when it comes to my job. I can clearly hear you say that you've "learned to emotionally detach yourself from your work." I choose to not give you any reaction to your comment because I know you want to start conflict. But now I shall rant. I want you to seperate your emotions when you work closely with children. When you spend more than 50 hours a week with them. Then I want you to look me in the eye and say that you don't worry about the kids you work with. If they went home to a house where the mom no longer lives, or the lights are out, or there is no food on the table. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me how you go home somedays happy for the small personal triumphs the children had, or just completely devestated for the failures you have together. Because when you work with kids, no matter what age, not matter their ability, or lack there of, there is no such thing as emotionally detaching yourself.