Chained to the wait

As I lay I ponder on the memory of your face while mine is laid against the edge of my bed.
A I slowly breath to decrease my heart-rate so I can finally sleep, your image flows through my mind increasing the beat making it difficult to sleep.
Is this beat trying to match that of your own?
Or am I playing a solo?
Now I ponder on the wonder of ever knowing.

Thankful

Im thankful for the obstacles ive overcome.
Sinking to the lowest level where i felt vain, but my pride didnt let me cry help.

Im thankful to have faced reality.
Angels exist.
But they only revealed their halos when I was drowning in my own hopelessness.

Im thankful for those who helped me sink.
Thank you for showing me the truth.
My angels still made it through you.
They lifted me up, dusted me off, gave me a big hug, and they were off.

Im thankful for their hope.
The precious gift you gauranteed didnt exist.
My angels brought it back in a box, beating, waiting to be inside me to help my blood flow.
I can love again.
Breath again.
Feel again.
Im thankful to be me again.

Trapped

Feels like a ball of pain deep inside your chest.
Just rolling around.
Every word said makes that ball get heavier.
Breathing gets a little difficult and a knot is created somewhere in your throat.
You bite your lip to keep your tears inside.
"Only cowards cry"
Deep breaths alleviate the pain a bit, but "reality is nourishment" according to Immortal Technique, and the nourishment is unbearable.
Like a broken bone getting cracked into place, painful but needed, is the reality that we face to help us grow.
Tears roll down my cheeks.
I'm not a coward.
I'm facing reality, deflating the ball of pain with my cries, and growing inside and out.
I'm free.

Beautiful senses

We most often assume that beauty is regarding to the superficial aspects of life, “what meets the eye.” We need to feel some sort of pleasure from looking at the matter, in order for it to be described as beautiful. However, not all beautiful things in life can be seen; for example, music. Although we can see the music notes on the sheet music, we can’t feel the beauty of it by just looking at it. We need to know how to actually read the notes to grasp the true effect. As a singer, I was taught that causing your audience emotion, is the only way you know you are a good singer; this includes tears, racing hearts, goose bumps/chills, screams, claps, and standing ovations.
Understanding that beauty is not displayed only in tangible objects, but also in aspects that please our other senses; it is safe to say that beauty is defined as anything aesthetically pleasing. In order for us to be engaged in the matter, we must comprehend what is presented. Comprehending the matter creates the connection that begins our relation to it, which will then affect our persona. Aesthetics deals with the philosophical perspective of beauty, any matter appealing to our senses, state of mind, emotions, or attitudes. Therefore, beauty is anything that is pleasing to our senses, mind and/or spirit.

Lost and found (but not found just yet)

Its been over a month since the last time I used my IPOD. I can't say that I've been looking for it, though. But for some reason, I had the urge to look for it yesterday. I tried retracing my steps from the last time I used it, and it's simply no where to be found. It's as if the earth swallowed it whole. They say you find what you're looking for when you stop looking for it...

Last night, I had a dream about my ex. It's been nine months since we broke up, five months since his last attempt to reach me, and I can't remember the last time the thought of him affected my emotions. I don't remember much about my dream, but what I do remember makes me wonder... In my dream, he was still with his girl friend and he was still in the fraternity. The wierd part was that he had my IPOD. For some reason, the surreal me had let him borrow my IPOD before we broke up, and I never got it back. According to my dream, I finally got the courage to ask for it back, and he brought it over to my house. I dont remember actually seeing him hand it to me, though. I just remember suddenly having it back in my hands...



Now, lets analyze this...

• An IPOD consists of music


• Music is a huge part of my soul, I love it.

So since an IPOD consists of music, which I love, one can say that the IPOD symbolizes my heart...

My dream ended with me having my IPOD in my hands. I didn't see my ex actually hand it to me, or anythin like that, I was just there.....holding it in my hands.

So, I saw two messages in this dream...

1. I got my heart back from him
2. Maybe I didnt necessarily got my heart back, but maybe I never gave my heart to him. Maybe I just let his actions take control of my emotions rather than me controling them, and now Im FINALLY controlling them myself. "Time heals"

So, what do YOU think??

I thought superheroes dont die?!

One of the lessons we learn from watching Bambi is that of "if your not going to say something nice, then don't say anything at all." What about criticism? There IS a difference between helpful criticism and just being rude. Helpful criticism brings the flaws to light, but also offers suggestions to successfully reach our goal.
However, in order to even criticize, I would assume one would need some type of experience or background knowledge on the subject at hand... So what do you do when someone you see as your superhero, starts "critiquing" you, but in an unhelpful way?


My dad used to be my best friend...my superhero...my daddy. Any obstacle I came across, he would find a way to guide me through it. On a letter he wrote me when I turned 12, he wrote "no matter how old you turn, you will always be my little girl." Daddy's little girl is now 19, and well, lets just say I made a life mistake last year that set me back a whole academic year (I probably mentioned it in one of my older posts). I didn't let my mistake keep me down, though. I registered at a community college and became part of the soccer team there. I've been busting my ass off in class to make sure i get at least a 3.0 GPA. I keep my mistake in the back of my mind as a "lesson learned", and I'm making sure that mistake doesn't occur again.
My dad was VERY disappointed in me, and I COMPLETELY understand. My family and my peers have high expectations for me. They seem to believe that I'm completely fine with my decisions, though. ..... That's not the case at all. My conscious doesn't let me sleep at night, reminiscing on the options i overlooked. Daddy's little girl is in trouble now...deep shit if you will. But...her superhero can't save her this time. Why not?.... Well... daddy only went to high school for a week and then became a gangbanger; it was all downhill from there. What about mommy? Well....mommy only made it to the 6th grade....
So who saves her now? Her primary source, herself.

But as soon as I feel my head above the water, here comes daddy to drown me again, "bla bla bla, you fucked up at NIU," or "you fucked up at NIU and now you want to fuck up here too?!"

• Half hour early at soccer practce
• Half hour early to class
• No parties
• No boyfriend
• All homework done
• Run errands when needed
• All favors done
• Clean room

Can some one please tell me where I'm fucking up this time??

I try to keep in mind that my dad was brought up in traditional mexican style. Get hit with no explanation. My dad doesnt hit me, but Id rather get hit, than have these words spit at me. Having these words of disappoinment coming at you so often from the person you idolized, really brings down the little hope you had inside. Me and my dad don't talk much anymore, and if we do, what's above is pretty much what I hear, and then I just result in my room crying. I developed this routine this summer, but pretty much, my superhero died.

Just me

Sigh

Spontaneous combustion. Story of my life. Once I thought I was filling in the cracks of my life that I managed to make this year, an earthquake occurs and I'm back into the cracks. The first biggest obstacle in my life was the beginning of my soccer career...second, first college year....now third, trying to find a way out of this "crack".
I can't blame this on anyone else but me, though. I come up with a lot of excuses to cover up the fact that I lost myself once I arrived at Dekalb. I lost my wit, "fuck it" mentality, individualism, and part of my soul. I shouldve known that once I stopped singing, it was a sign that something was wrong....
But now I'm singing again. I didnt find the old me, but im remolding myself. There might be another earthquake on it's way, but im prepared.