An Excuse

At the moment, a pencil should be in my right hand, and a sheet of paper laying on the wooden table, in front of me. However, as one might possibly imagine, there is no pencil in my right hand, and there is no sheet of paper laying on the wooden table, in front of me. Although I am to be working on my homework, I seem to have yet create another justifiable excuse to push aside my homework--I have to write a blog. Now, of course, a blog seems somewhat trivial and perhaps, does not impose a erudite connotation. Nevertheless, a blog is a complex, designed with colorful words in collaboration with splashes and strokes of sentences; in simple terms, it is a blank canvas for the mind's complex.

Well, although this is short, I now feel as though, I am finished. I do apologize if anyone felt let down by the length of this blog. However, to note, quality is always better than quantity. :)

Clenched

Each night that has passed, I have expected to fall asleep immediately after I turn off the lights. But as I gaze upon the ceiling, with my eyes circling like that of the fan above, I cannot help but let anger and frustration consume my mind and thoughts. Like different streams and rivers crossing paths, lending themselves into a vast ocean, these thoughts fade unto one another. I am angry. I am angry at the circumstances. I am angry that I am at a community college, with no opportunity to fall into a well-put niche. I am angry that I have not ___ _____ ____--that I cannot seem to comprehend the fabrics and complexions of relationships. I am angry that I have no freedom in doing what I want to do--that I am wrapped in ropes that scratch my skin if I gently move, and impress marks, or as I perceive it, brands upon my body.


As I turn to my side, with my feet sliding into my thighs, my breaths emerge shallow, with a break in rhythm. Looking into the shadows, casted by a minute light, I grab a pillow beside me, hugging tightly as if to never let go, or as if to really let it all go. I am angry. I am angry. I am angry.

I am pissed. I am every word that is synonmous with angry.

I am done.

I want not pity. I want not empathy. I want not the pats on the shoulder or the whispered, encouraging comments.

I want my freedom. I want my happiness. And damn it, I am going to get it.

An Observer's Excerpt

Lately, the weather has been exceptionally beautiful. Unfamiliar with the soft whisper of a breeze, or the slight pinches of cold temperature for quite a while, I have found myself again, appreciating the majestic nature of fall. Each morning when I awake, I cannot help but tighten my blankets closely around my body, like a rekindled love, enjoying the enveloping, cold weather. I like to imagine that the weather plays a game of tag with me, hitting my arm buoyantly as if expecting me to chase quickly soon after it, with a sense of relentlessness and determination.

So here I am, typing an arrangement of letters into my computer, with not much intent. It is a Sunday afternoon but sadly, there does not yet seem to be any "afternoon delight." Although, I will acknowledge that the weather outside is beautiful, and unequivocal by no other meaning. For those who are not familiar with the "cualidades" of the desert, it is hot and merciless. Now, the word "hot" invokes, as I can imagine, various interprations of magnitude. For some, 80 degrees Fahrenheit is "hot". Although I say to them, 80 degrees Fahrenheit is a reminder to not leave the house without a jacket. In reality, "hot" connotes the experience of sweat profusely drenching the body, and a desire to jump into a pool, or some water source, bare-naked, worrying not if anyone was watching.

In the desert, "hot" is 115-120 degress Fahrenheit, with possibly a hint of humidity... If I am to stress any word, like an accent in a Spanish word, it is "possibly." For many of the days, the desert is like a vacuum, trapping all of the moisture within the surrounding air. Therefore, one may understand the significance of the weather on this day--what is more though, is that like a musical composition, it is a prelude for more to come. :)