Self-Portrait

Between you, me, and them:
I am a chameleon changing almost every
four hours. I live in a city filled with rainbow-colored
people who sometimes see the world through
black or white lenses. It is so rare to find
golden wisdom and diamond-like mentalities,
for everyone is just like me: a chameleon.
I read books, especially memoirs, by people
whom I have never met, but feel much more
connected to than any other being I have
come across in this continuously changing
city.

Time passes, perspectives change, but all
things appear ageless - except I.
Every morning I speak to my mother and
every evening I listen to my father and
realize that I am not a chameleon after all,
but a flower raised in darkness, watered by
mother's golden wisdom, and embraced
by father's everlasting mentality of openmindedness
and colorful thoughts that appear too bright
for the chameleons wearing black or white
shades.

I'm truly not a child of the rainbow
nor a product seen or understood through
monochromatic frames, but a woman
all shades of grey: a mixture of all
mysteries hidden in between every
crack of the sidewalk's stained cement.

"Poetic Injustice"

"If I told you a flower bloomed in a dark room, would you trust it?" 

Would you lust me? Trust me? Let me know that you wanted 

To see...

Reality 

Through me?

If I told you that it didn't matter if the sun abandoned my days and 

The nights embraced my mornings...would you trust it?

Be disgusted by

The lies that I seem to tell you?

Or convince yourself I 

Remained honest? 

I mean, just because I drink so much 

Honest Tea

Doesn't mean

That I've been

Truthful - 

More like I've been ruthless,

Full of bullshit 

And leaving footprints 

In the back of your mind 

Without ever letting you in my 

Humble Abode.

My code of conduct is to

Never let you know how much you've 

Affected me,

Infected me,

Tried to inject me with

Your sweet nothings.

I'm sorry I'm not sorry that you 

Have absolutely no effect on me.

Now...

Do you trust that? 

An Odd Mixture

Because I have been cooped up in my room, wrapped up in thick blankets, and overdosing on hot tea just to stay warm for the last couple of nights, I have turned to music to brighten up my days. Here is a sample of my playlist entitled, The Odd Mixture.

Reserved

*reserved - to keep for oneself... 

Seeing is believing and

I’m still breathing, 

waiting for

the moment to soak in

your presence that verbally lingers,

yet has never physically exposed itself.

My hopeful prayers for change

 have left me kneeling 

beside bed sheets

that scream your name,

yet only seem to reach 

the dusty corners of my ceiling and

get caught in webs of despair and 

self doubt.

Nothing follows those prayers, so

I sulk in confusion, but

continue to search for answers

in the pages that unravel stories about you.

As my beliefs gradually fade into a past of phases that I once truly lived by,

A part of my heart still hopes that one day…

GOD will prove my mind wrong.

There Are No Accidents

A beautiful soul once told my sister, who passed it on to me, that "there are no accidents in the universe." I have always believed that every individual in our lives and all that has occurred has taken place for a reason. For the past couple of weeks I have been more aware of my surroundings, the people that are a part of my life, and those from the past who continue to pop right back up into the present. As cliche as this may sound, I am writing this because I just want to remind those of you reading this, as well as myself, to tell your loved ones how much you actually love them. Sometimes words may not come out the way we would like them to and in that case, a simple hug or smile can go a long way. It's funny how the world continues to test me and show me all different kinds of truths in the most interesting ways.

Last week, a friend of mine told me that one of her good friends passed away, Monday was my sister's best friend's one year death anniversary, and today I received a phone call from my best friend that had me teary eyed while I listened to her express the pain she was feeling when she found out that her aunt had died.

With all of these individuals in mind, I remind myself to cherish the time I have with those who are in my life because tomorrow is not promised. Death can rob the most beautiful characters on this planet and leave us questioning ourselves, "Why? Why him? Why her? They were so young! WHY GOD, WHY?" It is only natural to wonder why, but to an extent that one word can leave us in ruins. Do not question yourself why, but use your memory to appreciate the time you did have with that individual when they were still physically present. This sequence of events has left me with an even greater appreciation for life and for those who are in my life right now. Hug your dad, have a conversation with him, kiss your mom's cheek, embrace the little ones, laugh with your friends, and smile at those you do not know because they might cross paths with you once again in the future.

We may plan for tomorrow, next week, or next year, but life does not promise us anything. Those we see today, may disappear tomorrow. What we say or do next week, may affect us next year or further into the future. I guess what I am trying to emphasize is this: tell those around you how much you love them and show them how much you care because regretting the actions we did not take or words that were never spoken, will only kill us inside.

Use the present to make memories for the future that will not leave us asking why, but leave us smiling as we remember how we made our time with that person absolutely worth it. 

Today, Time Did Not Exist

While we were temporarily isolated from the outside world, simply hanging out in a garden sparked the inspiration to capture the timelessness that nature engulfed us in and the beauty of this October weather. 

Random Thought

The silence taught me to recognize the truth. 

It wasn't until I saw people, who mattered to me, drown themselves in the loudness of life that their actions became their words because no one would listen. 

The harder they tried to be recognized and the louder they spoke, the more difficult it became for outsiders to understand their intentions. 

Others could hear them, but never listened. 

Their last resort was to act out of the desire for attention and because their actions spoke louder than words, it was much easier for others to make something of what they saw with their own two eyes, rather than straining their eardrums attempting to listen to their story.

"What's wrong?" became the opener for their conversations, yet I sat their wondering why do we not ask what's right?

It's as if some only care when everything has been damaged and only a few are there when life is going well, but it is rare to find those who will help you mend the broken and be your support when creating a new foundation. 

It was the silence that taught me to recognize those who could handle the nothingness in the air and actually listen to it. 

I found the truth floating in the silence. 

Me, She, & Poetry

What we are never changes, but
who we are rearranges

just as often as the seasons change.

I've changed so much, I've forgotten what I am

although I've never even met

the real me at all.

I've fallen so deep, I cant keep track of what I lack

because stacks of disguises pile high

as I go through self destruction

almost every other week,

while I seek for

self foundation.

This daily concentration

leads me Elsewhere.

I mean, where else can I find Me?

I don't even know who She is...

Stop acting like you know Me,
when there's no Me

that has been constructed.

When the definition of

"self"

is published,

copywritten,

with all rights reserved...

that's when you'll deserve

to know She.

Show Me who or what makes Me what I am-
for what I am never changes..

I'd like to stop changing,

stop rearranging

the pieces of me

because I believe I am only ONE piece.

A masterpiece

of "self" - whoever that may be.

...

Dusting my shelves of history now,

the ongoing mystery has evolved,

been solved,

and discovered, uncovering the

"what" that is missing-

I am "what" you make of me...

I am poetry.

Chances

There's something about being on the top floor of a parking garage, on a chilly night, sippin' hot tea, and conversing about life that makes time sort of slow down. Listening to the rustling of the leaves on every tree branch hanging above the parking garage echoes in the emptiness, while a brief silence lingers in the air as we sit on the roof of my car thinking. 

"Don't you wish you could just go back and change parts of the past?" 

"No. What's done is done. That's what the future is for...to make things better than whatever it is that already happened."

Silence.

Our history begins to replay in my mind while I think, 

"I wish we never met. You mean too much to me now."

"I know exactly what you're thinking...just be patient."

A Poem From The Past

Loose Threads

I envy You because you've got a love that's unbreakable

and

I'm no where close enough to be capable

of

reaching out into some one else's heart and

understanding their soul

as if it were my own.

See, pieces of me have been sewn

back together, but still loosely hang

only attached by the threads that remind me

of past struggles, so I juggle

these obstacles on the daily

mainly

to keep this smile going

but,

I continue sewing

the pieces of me that remain

detached.

I wear my heart on my sleeve,

hoping to achieve

the search for Mr. Sewing Machine,

but so far all I've seen

is a bundle of Mr. Wrongs

that keep tearing these stitches apart.

So I continue to write -

I write

about Mr. Right,

trying to fight

the pain that lingers

and hangs by single threads,

but these bleeding fingers

continue to sew.

The more stitches involved

the less I am capable of

evolving into

the woman I am 

behind all these loose threads.

I envy You.

Restoration

This current journey I am on towards making my dream a reality didn't truly hit me until this month. Because I never graduated high school, I would often find myself living in nostalgia, thinking that I had to try harder and harder each year just to make up for all the times I felt like a complete failure. When I finally started feeling like I was making progress within my self esteem as a student, in class, in my writing, in life...there was no one there to fully understand how elevated my mind had become after pouring thousands and thousands of words onto papers and reading dozens of books and stories that not only broadened my views on life, but molded me into this individual who finally heard the whispering voices of Accomplishment. I was so blessed to have family and friends who supported me and my education, yet there was no one who really understood  how strongly the renovation of my mind affected me. I just wanted to converse about books I read, papers I wrote, forgotten histories we learned about in class, and how writing seemed to be the key to immortality, yet I did not say a word because that feeling of doubt and that fear of failure came creeping through my window right before I was able to fully grasp Pride.

I began to underestimate myself, thinking "What is the use of my education, if I have no one to share my knowledge with?" I started to compare myself to others, thinking "What good is this wealth of knowledge, when my head is stuck in books every single day, I'm always low on money and all my friends and family are out getting paid?" I was back where I started - full of fear and self doubt.

It didn't hit me until this month.

How ironic is it that I did not graduate because I failed my senior year in high school and now that it is my senior year in college, I have been tested by the world to see if I would give in to those fears and doubts of the Past...and I passed.

I could not fully grasp Pride because that's not what I was meant to hold.
I was tested so that I could learn how to humble myself and that was all.

Take Your Time

"Wish I could see the future sometimes..."

When I ride my bike and have my headphones play songs like Impossible on repeat, I contemplate and watch the world go by. I always wonder if other people think about life as often as I do. Sometimes I feel like people are living their lives so fast, that they have absolutely no time to think, appreciate, and acknowledge what is and what may be. This fast-paced lifestyle may result in times when we look back at a moment in our lives when we thought that it meant everything to us, then simply forget about it and erase it from our memories. If only we had taken the time to fully absorb those memories and make every one of them worth remembering. I would like to think that every one of us takes our time with all of our endeavors to get to that place we all call Somewhere, but we're only human. Some may rush themselves and end up missing what was really there, a few may attempt to work at what it was that they were chasing and find that their efforts were not enough, and others may not even try at all.

I've always wished the best for humanity and part of that better life would be for all of us to wave off those what-ifs, could haves, should haves, and the would haves by taking our time with every chance we take. 

I wouldn't want any of us to rethink our decisions in life and say "It could've meant everything, but then again it could've meant nothing."  

Let's not rush through life. Let's gradually move forward into the future without living in the past. 

San Jose, You Inspire Me

From crispy brown leaves and empty parking lots to automobiles from the past...

I am inspired by EVERYTHING.

A 90th Day Celebration

April Garguena

Felicidad & Desiree

Fernando

If you haven't already guessed who those people are in the pictures above; 

that is mi familia.

It's amazing how much an individual can go through in just three hundred and sixty five days. I'm not quite sure whether or not it has literally been that long since my life has taken drastic changes, but I am sure of all the opportunities God has given me and my family within that short amount of time.  He speaks to each of us in the most interesting ways and it is deciphering his messages that brings us together when feeling lost. It wasn't until I almost lost my sister to alcohol, that I found the courage to help this foreign drunkard  resuscitate the April my family and I had been searching for. 

I not only found the words to encourage my sister to continue her journey to revival, but taking pictures of her and my family definitely had a way of helping me cope with every obstacle each and every one of us experienced, while we patiently waited for the intelligent, caring, and loving April to resurface. 

Last night, I was able to capture my mother's innocent smile, my sister Desiree's quirkiness, my father's seriousness, and most importantly my sister April's perseverance. These pictures may hold no meaning for those of you who have decided to take the time to read all of this, but these are the pictures that established a day, we all felt, was worth celebrating. I am so proud to say that it was April's 90th day of sobriety.  

Free Your Thoughts

Sometimes solitude is good for the soul especially when all the chaos that school, work, family, friends, and everything else that the world has decided to throw into the mix, has suddenly taken over our own sense of self. It is in our most intimate moments of quiet that we find ourselves. I don't  mean the selves we expose in front of our everyday world, but the self that no one but you knows all too well.

My mind often wanders into unknown realms of creativity. It is in this kingdom of no restrictions that I find my imagination soaring beyond reality's borders of Real. How intriguing it is to come to the conclusion that, if what we consider so real in reality is not real at all, then the reality of our own imaginations is the closest we'll ever get to the truth.

If only we knew what others were thinking, maybe then would we all be Home Free. 

6:15 AM

You robbed me of my ambitions

Had me fishin’ in a pond of no intuition

And I’m wishin’ I never met you in the first place.

You stripped me down from head to toe

Never knowing what was going

Through my head in bed

Every time you’d tell me I was worthless.

I am no longer She;

The Me,

You met when He was still around.

I found

Pieces of She

In the old Me

That lay rotting beside

The nightstand of hopelessness.

*This is the product of unpleasant vignettes from the past deciding to wander in my mind late at night.