UNDECIDED

I’m ready for the life of a writer that so desperately calls for me.

And indeed, it was all for nothing...

Merciful heaven... Sometimes I really like my certain teacher... and other times I really dislike, erm, them. This is why on the teacher evaluation I have them a 2 on meeting personal needs of the students. Because they really don't. You ask for grace (it's ironic because that's the name of my school) and all you get in return is a straight up "no". Gee thanks. Two of my finals got deleted and I have so many others to do today, yet there is no way that I can do/turn in my assignment for their class on friday. "You have to be prepared for tomorrow, everyone does." Do you not realize that if it's not due tomorrow, it won't be finished? You can't make students do exactly  what you want them to. YOU. CAN'T. No matter what. Okay, my senioritis is back and I'm ready to be done with this bullshit.

It sinks in. Highschool, it definitely was the best and worst of times. From late night park fun to broken hearts. I'd do it all again. All the heartache  all the trouble, the endless banter, rifted souls, group cuddles, friendships, killed and restored. I regret nothing. I appreciated every moment, I appreciate now. This last week, the end of the beginning, will be rough for me. I already cried 3 times this morning. First for the presentations that I lost (damn you internet), second time during worship. I sat between my friends and classmates Nate and Charlie, every five minutes they you remind me that this was our the last chapel ever. They were excited, I was missing my school already. Third time, an 8th grader read her testimony. Her life beginning was a struggle, so very close to what my family has gone through, I ached for her. I would miss her and her siblings at the school. I don't know where I am going with this anymore... I'm desperately craving summer, but it can come slowly. I'm not yet ready to say goodbye. I'm close though... So close, I can taste the satisfaction. 

Sometimes I use this word very loosely, but it's always genuine, I swear. Finding Beauty and Hope is something I love. However, I wish it was revealed to me and not be seeking it. But then again, I like the way it is now. I don't know... (note:title of blog) If Beauty is being sought, and no, not a beauty, just Beauty, then the possibilities are endless. Everything becomes grey and soon you confuse fucked-up things for Beauty. Which that idea is just Beautiful to me. It's all very confusing... (to be continued.....)

Those were the Moments of my youth.     

I've been exercising my eyes lately. I can feel the difference, because my eyes don't ache when they try to adjust after I have removed my eye "improvers". Hah, they are not improving anything but my temporary eye sight of now. In all actuality they hinder my eyes from improving. It's like, tater-tots. God, Himself blessed this nuggets of joy and deliciousness. They make you happy and full and improve life, but the more you eat the fatter you get and then you get slower and slower. Your eye movement only gets slower and slower because they don't have to work for it anymore. Maybe the tater-tot shindig was a poor analogy. I apologize... I just really want delicious,  joyful, God-blessed nuggets very badly.

My summer loves consist on finding good reads, which I believe take a lot of weeding through shitty read, but are over all worth it, wavy hair, falsely colored lips, sitting in odd places to stare at the stars and think and finally, Chaco tans. I'm starting early on my fifth love. Today was sunny, but cold as f***, but I'm hoping it wasn't all for not. If I stare long enough at my ugly little feet, I can make out a the ever so lightest lines criss-crossing over my pale skin. I'm beyond excited. 

He loves a girl who writes, though she's unsure and she is desperate to live the lives that her ink carefully spills in careful lines. He loves a girl who writes. He can not find her through her silent facade- her words of guise. He loves a girl who writes, her hands smell of liquid victory and despair and she will forever have the mark of a writer. Despite all the good and the long night cries... He loved the girl who wrote. 

Something new, that I've never heard of are six word stories. I live this. In a book I'm currently reading there is a young female character who is extremely vague. I'm in-love with how the author developed the way she is. I've been trying to think of a way todo that very thing whilst keeping is short and simple. Six word stories are something I can do solely for a whole day. My favorite ones so far are as follows: Ink stain on finger. Living pages. Lines of tears, lines of blood. The room fell still. Floating shoes. So extremely vague, yet their stories are told beyond your mind. But I'm having a rough time making happy ones, my closest to happy are "Ink stain on finger. Living pages." and "yeah, I didn't have juice today." I won't give this up. I found something I am very much in-love with.

In writing... Sometimes I don't know what to think. Detail is good, but it can also not be good depending in what you are writing? I'm good with detail. I think. But, right now I'm scared for writing short stories, and it's because I'm worried I might loose my "voice". My style. Well... Hmmmh. I'm very blunt as well. I'll just have I learn how to choose the words I need and I only say what I REALLY need to say. I need to keep my worries in check. It's really windy outside.

I despise that fact that this "writing blog" is mostly just rants and random thoughts that have no meaning at all. They only have meaning because I make have some. But it's all very necessary. I'm lazy, though I shouldn't admit it so proudly. I let myself do it very last minute and I mean that to the very  last minute of the day. I'm running out  of time right now... Seventy five words should be so extremely easy to get out and I know that I can do better than this, sometimes I just don't care. Truthfully, I write more for myself (in my journal) than I do on this blog. I feel like I'm cheating if  I use one of those... writings for this assignment... Blah. 

They left. Didn't want to stay and watch them as my sister drove away in her mini van. I've never really known my sister all that well. I wish I did, but not right now because then it would be even harder to watch her leave again. I miss those three little heads moving with the swaying of her car. The biggest head belongs to my niece, Irie. They say that she's a lot like me, but I don't know if she tries to be. I think Safie, the littlest head, is more like me. Quite but her expressions are very effective. Phoenix... He's a little punk. He's more like Natalie and my brother Gabe. But the stubborn Mondragón in all of them shines through a bit too well. I go up stairs to my room, my bed, and I see all the things Irie left in my room. A pair of socks, pealed off in a corner, a plush zebra, a shirt, some stickers and a book. They haunt me.

I’m tired. And exhausted out of my mind. Being anxious all day long over something that I knew was in God’s hands. That, and watching a rowdy almost-three-year-old and a very sweet, disgruntled one-year-old. Honestly I’m tok freaking tired out of my mind to even care to write something remotely good. I still have homework to do in my favorite class (do I really new to insert “sarcasm” here?). My eyes are tok heavy for it only being….. 12:50 ish. This isn’t normal. I want to call in sick tomorrow, but I have a lot to do at school and I hate not being there and kissing things. My eyes hurt, my arms hurt, my head hurts and I just want to drink deluded juice and tea and sleep in my devil sheets. I want to brush my hair and count how many time I stroke it. I want to lay in the sun and disappear. Tomorrow. I hate you already.

My pillow is quite soft, actually my whole bed is soft. My bed sheets are all made if fuzzy material, like the same kind they use to make those comfy throw-blankets. The trouble with these sheets is that it's almost physically impossible to get out of bed in the mornings. They're so comfortable, like sleeping in a warm bath. When I wash them they are extra fluffy and my clothes gets covered in lint. When I wake up there are tiny little white puffs holding on to dear life off of my eyelashes. I've been claiming that I WILL change my sheets since the middle of January, obviously that has yet to happen. I don't ever want to change my sheets. Nothing will ever be as comfortable. It's tragic.

Today I was think about years not too long ago. When our school was close, how I could be assigned the simplest assignment and sill manage to freak out. I suppose I still do that, to an extent. Then I realized something, it's been staring at us RIGHT in the face. I don't know how school was last year or how relationships between the grades had been, but I do know all the year I went we were united in someway. Some might call it community. Oh my gosh. Why have we only been able to step forward in this just recently? One word. Prayer. It's stupidly simple! And I feel a fool not realizing it earlier. When Jake and Annie were teaching the Bible classes every day, or at least the first day if the week, we would tell each other what we needed prayer for and then someone else would pray for them. We lifted each other up to God. We knew each other and wanted for other people to know us. Everyone wants to be known, and prayer was the way we could do that. How was this not seen before? We no longer pray together for each other. And at a private christian school! We haven't been united under God, we were so focused solely on being a community we forgot how simple it really is. I hope it's not too late. Maybe it is for y class, but not for the rest I my school.

Mleh, winter is gone. I could feel that it was spring. Well actually, we don't usually have a spring here in (what the kids call) "D-town". No, we have summer, autumn, winter winter WINTER, a little small glimpse of spring that only is sensed aromatically for a few days, and the season of mud. Right now it's between mud and summer. It generally gets warm fast here... But it's very hard to predict the whether here, it's very bipolar. But once the rain comes and goes it will be scorching hot; which I quite enjoy. Today was a good day, because I smelled summer. And my good friend bought me a very delicious cookie today.