jueves, 25 de febrero de 2010
Come Back Economy
Although my financial struggles have not lightened, my spirit is soaring. After not speaking to my mother for two years, we have reunited and, after quitting a job that I hated, I am now pursuing my dream. Unfortunately, my dream is not currenlty bringing in enough income to pay the bills but, I have an overwhelming faith. Why live at all if you're not doing what you love?
jueves, 10 de septiembre de 2009
Crazy in Alabama
The movie "Crazy in Alabama" played on my grandmother's 37 inch plasma TV. I had never seen the movie before but, the title sounded familiar so, I decided I was going to educate myself. Within five minutes I realized that the movie was going to touch issues about race in a divided southern society in the 60s.
After the local sheriff ordered two black boys out of the elocal swimming pool and accidentally killed one when her tried to escape, my grandmother began to recall those days in her own life.
"When I was real young, I remember seein' a nice lady in the grocery store and she had on some real nice shoes. I said to my mother, 'look, that lady has nice red shoes!'"
"'That's not a lady,' my mother said, 'we don't call them ladies'. I just remember bein' so surprised and thinkin', why not? I've never been racist although my mother was. I've just always thought that they felt the same things we did and they were people just like us."
"Do you remember seeing black people walk by and not being able to talk to them?" I asked her.
"No, not really. I remember when there were separate drinkin' fountains and when they had to sit at the back of the bus. I remember one time when we were about to get on and one went to get on first and, Rupert grabbed him and pulled them back. And I just always remember Rupert saying, 'They know there place. They know their place.' What does that mean!?" she said, feeling the same feelings of bewilderment she must have felt back then.
"And I remember when Rosa Parks ya know, did her thing and I just remember being so proud of her!"
"Was grandpa a racist?" I asked.
"Yeah, well, he grew up in Mississippi remember. So he was more so than I was. It was mainly the boys."
After the local sheriff ordered two black boys out of the elocal swimming pool and accidentally killed one when her tried to escape, my grandmother began to recall those days in her own life.
"When I was real young, I remember seein' a nice lady in the grocery store and she had on some real nice shoes. I said to my mother, 'look, that lady has nice red shoes!'"
"'That's not a lady,' my mother said, 'we don't call them ladies'. I just remember bein' so surprised and thinkin', why not? I've never been racist although my mother was. I've just always thought that they felt the same things we did and they were people just like us."
"Do you remember seeing black people walk by and not being able to talk to them?" I asked her.
"No, not really. I remember when there were separate drinkin' fountains and when they had to sit at the back of the bus. I remember one time when we were about to get on and one went to get on first and, Rupert grabbed him and pulled them back. And I just always remember Rupert saying, 'They know there place. They know their place.' What does that mean!?" she said, feeling the same feelings of bewilderment she must have felt back then.
"And I remember when Rosa Parks ya know, did her thing and I just remember being so proud of her!"
"Was grandpa a racist?" I asked.
"Yeah, well, he grew up in Mississippi remember. So he was more so than I was. It was mainly the boys."
jueves, 3 de septiembre de 2009
Painful silence lingered for an eternity as I imagined my heart visibly pounding through my chest. He finally looked up and met my gaze, his lips looking for words. I laughed a little and began an uninteresting observation of what a close one it was. He nervously muttered his "thanks" at the same time and then looked away shyly.
"I'm Allison, by the way," I reached out my hand smiling.
He jumped forward, "Hi. Allison. I'm Ro-"
"Rob. Yeah, I know," I responded at the same time. I wondered if his bewildered expression was due to the fact that I knew his name or because I wasn't screaming and trying to tackle him. "So, how long are you in town?" I asked politely, grasping for any intelligent words that I could in the presence the world's hottest celebrity.
"Not long at all, I was driving through and thought-quite erroneously- that I could spend a normal few hours without being recognized," his smile radiant.
"Ha, yeah, we actually have television here too, although it is a small place," I laughed as he tried to apologize for offending my home town.
"So, are you from here?" he asked, with a genuine look of interest on his face.
"Originally yes but, I just got back after a long, uh, journey, I guess you could call it."
"Oh yeah? Where have you been-" Just then my cell phone stared ringing with the theme song from his latest film that he composed himself. I instantly felt the blood rush to my cheeks as I stumbled to the desk to pick up the phone.
"Just- just one second," I pleaded. I'm sure the horror on my face was obvious. I took a deep breathe and closed my eyes before pushing the send button, "Hello?"
"Allison! Oh. My. God. Guess. Who. Is in. OCALA!?" It was Heather. I had to pull the phone away from ear as my best friend hysterically informed me that her new obsession was somewhere within a 10 mile radius of her. I covered my eyes, thoroughly embarrassed as Rob listened, obviously amused by my emphatic friend. Without any encouragement she proceed to tell me that break out star Rob Johnson had just been spotted on the boulovard near down town, right in front of my dad's store. She asked me what I was and pleaded with me to go with her to look for him.
"Heather, please, he's proabably already gone-"
"Please, please, pleeeaase Alli!"
"I'm sorry, I really can't, I have to ride this afternoon."
"Oh my God, fine. But, if I get his autograph you are going to be so jealous! How can you not be in love with Rob. I think you are the only girl in the entire world who isn't utterly obsessed with him." I looked up at Rob just in time to see his eyebrows raise. I rolled my eyes and mouth a "sorry" in his direction.
"Alright, well good luck, let me know if you find him."
"Okay, Al. Talk to ya." I hung up quickly and looked over at my amused refugee.
"I am so sorry," I began.
"It's ok," he laughed. "But, let me get this straight, you don't like me but, you have my song on as your ring tone?"
"I do like you, well, your music, I don't know you though, to know whether I like you or not. But, I'm a huge fan of your music...and your acting," I added quickly.
"Oh," he laughed, "I see." We stood in silence for a few seconds, or eyes locked. There were no fireworks going off in the background but, I had an overwhelming feeling that I would be safe if I could just look into his eyes forever.
"Well, listen, I wont hold you hostage any longer," I peeked out the shop door and looked both ways, "it looks like the coast is clear."
"Uhhh, yeah, um, thanks. It's been really nice meeting you."
"Likewise. If you're ever in need of a hide out, you know where to find me." I smiled as I held out my hand one more time. He took it politely and then paused for a few seconds looking at the floor before he wheeled around to head out the door.
"Ok then, bye and, thanks again," and in an instant he was gone. I closed the door quickly and leaned against it. Suddenly I felt my hands shaking as I gasped for air. I don't know why I should feel this way, he's just a person. Should I have let him go? I asked myself. Should I have asked for his number or given him mine? Oh well, it's over now. There's nothing I can do.
* * *
Allison headed to the barn after her dad got back from lunch. She made a quick escape without mentioning the afternoon's excitement. She just needed to be alone to think over everything that happened.
"I'm Allison, by the way," I reached out my hand smiling.
He jumped forward, "Hi. Allison. I'm Ro-"
"Rob. Yeah, I know," I responded at the same time. I wondered if his bewildered expression was due to the fact that I knew his name or because I wasn't screaming and trying to tackle him. "So, how long are you in town?" I asked politely, grasping for any intelligent words that I could in the presence the world's hottest celebrity.
"Not long at all, I was driving through and thought-quite erroneously- that I could spend a normal few hours without being recognized," his smile radiant.
"Ha, yeah, we actually have television here too, although it is a small place," I laughed as he tried to apologize for offending my home town.
"So, are you from here?" he asked, with a genuine look of interest on his face.
"Originally yes but, I just got back after a long, uh, journey, I guess you could call it."
"Oh yeah? Where have you been-" Just then my cell phone stared ringing with the theme song from his latest film that he composed himself. I instantly felt the blood rush to my cheeks as I stumbled to the desk to pick up the phone.
"Just- just one second," I pleaded. I'm sure the horror on my face was obvious. I took a deep breathe and closed my eyes before pushing the send button, "Hello?"
"Allison! Oh. My. God. Guess. Who. Is in. OCALA!?" It was Heather. I had to pull the phone away from ear as my best friend hysterically informed me that her new obsession was somewhere within a 10 mile radius of her. I covered my eyes, thoroughly embarrassed as Rob listened, obviously amused by my emphatic friend. Without any encouragement she proceed to tell me that break out star Rob Johnson had just been spotted on the boulovard near down town, right in front of my dad's store. She asked me what I was and pleaded with me to go with her to look for him.
"Heather, please, he's proabably already gone-"
"Please, please, pleeeaase Alli!"
"I'm sorry, I really can't, I have to ride this afternoon."
"Oh my God, fine. But, if I get his autograph you are going to be so jealous! How can you not be in love with Rob. I think you are the only girl in the entire world who isn't utterly obsessed with him." I looked up at Rob just in time to see his eyebrows raise. I rolled my eyes and mouth a "sorry" in his direction.
"Alright, well good luck, let me know if you find him."
"Okay, Al. Talk to ya." I hung up quickly and looked over at my amused refugee.
"I am so sorry," I began.
"It's ok," he laughed. "But, let me get this straight, you don't like me but, you have my song on as your ring tone?"
"I do like you, well, your music, I don't know you though, to know whether I like you or not. But, I'm a huge fan of your music...and your acting," I added quickly.
"Oh," he laughed, "I see." We stood in silence for a few seconds, or eyes locked. There were no fireworks going off in the background but, I had an overwhelming feeling that I would be safe if I could just look into his eyes forever.
"Well, listen, I wont hold you hostage any longer," I peeked out the shop door and looked both ways, "it looks like the coast is clear."
"Uhhh, yeah, um, thanks. It's been really nice meeting you."
"Likewise. If you're ever in need of a hide out, you know where to find me." I smiled as I held out my hand one more time. He took it politely and then paused for a few seconds looking at the floor before he wheeled around to head out the door.
"Ok then, bye and, thanks again," and in an instant he was gone. I closed the door quickly and leaned against it. Suddenly I felt my hands shaking as I gasped for air. I don't know why I should feel this way, he's just a person. Should I have let him go? I asked myself. Should I have asked for his number or given him mine? Oh well, it's over now. There's nothing I can do.
* * *
Allison headed to the barn after her dad got back from lunch. She made a quick escape without mentioning the afternoon's excitement. She just needed to be alone to think over everything that happened.
miércoles, 2 de septiembre de 2009
Chapter 2
My integration experience has continued to feel like a drawn out walk to the electric chair. In a grisly way, I am quite interested to see the outcome. With no car, no job, no money, no parents, I feel like a lost soul floating around those mortals who are blissfully unaware of some of the pain that is filling the air between them.
FATE?
As I sat babysitting my father's small art store, I stared mindlessly out of the large window that encompassed the entire facade of the ancient building. My mind was drawn back to Earth as I felt a distinct vibration under my feet and heard a barely audible rumbling coming closer. As the rolling thunder rounded the corner of the shop, frantic knocking resounding throughout the tiny room. Sensing the urgency, I ran to the door and looked out to register the desperate refugee.
Icy blue eyes met mine in an instant, begging me to understand the urgency behind them. I was stunned as I recognized that perfect face, the ruffled hair, and the tall lean frame. Only now, he was standing in front of me, in front of the tiny art store on the corner of the small Florida town of Ocala, and not on the small TV screen behind me. I pulled him in and lead him behind the glass case which took up half of the small interior of the shop. He laid flat on the ground, just below the glass just as a stampede of screaming girls ran past the giant window in a blur. By the time a few suspicious stragglers paused for a quick scan around me, I was already sitting at the desk, my legs propped up nonchalantly and pretending to talk on my phone. I looked up and smiled hesitantly, using non-existant acting skills to look as confused as I normally would in such a situation. The three girls, finding no valuable hostage, slumped their shoudlers and walked away. I sat musing at the frantic tennagers and said to myself, "Great, I'll have to clean that damn window again."
"Sorry," replied the soft voice coming from behind the glass case. His easily recognizable British accent sent a chill down my spine. I jumped backed to reality and spun around on my chair to look at Rob Johnson, collecting himself as he slowly got up off the floor.
"Hi," I said, trying not to let my face give away my level of shock. "I almost forgot about you." A small smile broke on his smooth face and a nervous laugh sounded quietly as he undoubetly recalled his narrow escape.
. Next
FATE?
As I sat babysitting my father's small art store, I stared mindlessly out of the large window that encompassed the entire facade of the ancient building. My mind was drawn back to Earth as I felt a distinct vibration under my feet and heard a barely audible rumbling coming closer. As the rolling thunder rounded the corner of the shop, frantic knocking resounding throughout the tiny room. Sensing the urgency, I ran to the door and looked out to register the desperate refugee.
Icy blue eyes met mine in an instant, begging me to understand the urgency behind them. I was stunned as I recognized that perfect face, the ruffled hair, and the tall lean frame. Only now, he was standing in front of me, in front of the tiny art store on the corner of the small Florida town of Ocala, and not on the small TV screen behind me. I pulled him in and lead him behind the glass case which took up half of the small interior of the shop. He laid flat on the ground, just below the glass just as a stampede of screaming girls ran past the giant window in a blur. By the time a few suspicious stragglers paused for a quick scan around me, I was already sitting at the desk, my legs propped up nonchalantly and pretending to talk on my phone. I looked up and smiled hesitantly, using non-existant acting skills to look as confused as I normally would in such a situation. The three girls, finding no valuable hostage, slumped their shoudlers and walked away. I sat musing at the frantic tennagers and said to myself, "Great, I'll have to clean that damn window again."
"Sorry," replied the soft voice coming from behind the glass case. His easily recognizable British accent sent a chill down my spine. I jumped backed to reality and spun around on my chair to look at Rob Johnson, collecting himself as he slowly got up off the floor.
"Hi," I said, trying not to let my face give away my level of shock. "I almost forgot about you." A small smile broke on his smooth face and a nervous laugh sounded quietly as he undoubetly recalled his narrow escape.
. Next
viernes, 21 de agosto de 2009
Integration
I often fantasized about the welcoming parade that would be waiting for me upon my arrival back to the United States. I pictured the a long parade, with baton twirlers and soldiers carrying American flags. Most importantly, I saw my whole family, immediate and extended, waiting at the end to help me off my princess float and smother me in hugs and kisses. The reality ended up being slightly different. It was like arriving to a barren land, full of remnants of past battles and lacking any natural resources which one looking for a home would normally identify with. My disappointment was overwhelming.
. Next
. Next
miércoles, 19 de agosto de 2009
Maternal Instinct: Non-Exsistent
It's hard to comprehend the inner workings of my mother's diabolical mind or muse about her selfish ulterior motives. Undoubtedly, menopause has intensified her longstanding feelings of jealousy, clouding any remnants of maternal compassion.
Vibrant stories of her youth flash through my mind as I fix purposely on her abundant details of her perfect figure and bountiful social circle. The glaring signs, however, that point to the pitfalls of her romantic spins make me question the sincerity of them. At just 17, she gave up medical school and abandoned her newborn to her mother while she escaped to the United States to become a nurse.
Her anticipation abounded as the romantic visions of America were somewhat confirmed upon arrival. For years she lived a fantasy, making money, finding the man of her dreams and, giving birth to an "American baby" as she described me to her mother in a letter just a few weeks after that day in 1986.
According to my doting father, I blossomed into a perfect mixture of my tall, slim mother and my tan, white-smiled father. With the dwindling of my mother's superficial beauty, her self-obsession turned into wild jealousy...
Next
...
Vibrant stories of her youth flash through my mind as I fix purposely on her abundant details of her perfect figure and bountiful social circle. The glaring signs, however, that point to the pitfalls of her romantic spins make me question the sincerity of them. At just 17, she gave up medical school and abandoned her newborn to her mother while she escaped to the United States to become a nurse.
Her anticipation abounded as the romantic visions of America were somewhat confirmed upon arrival. For years she lived a fantasy, making money, finding the man of her dreams and, giving birth to an "American baby" as she described me to her mother in a letter just a few weeks after that day in 1986.
According to my doting father, I blossomed into a perfect mixture of my tall, slim mother and my tan, white-smiled father. With the dwindling of my mother's superficial beauty, her self-obsession turned into wild jealousy...
Next
...
martes, 18 de agosto de 2009
Loosening the Corset
I have decided to write my daily musings in order to loosen the corset that has been so restrictive this last year. I have no expectations in the way of followers and have no desire to mold my thoughts around the interests of any passersby. My sole desire is to express those thoughts which I may be otherwise prohibited to do in my everyday life.
Through the emotional loss of my parents, a year in Spain living in a boot camp, and hundreds of incompetent books read, my my mind is in knots and my heart is anywhere but on my sleeve. I am struggling to enjoy my youth and contain my superior intelligence and wisdom which I possess over other people my age. From here, my story begins...
Next
...
Through the emotional loss of my parents, a year in Spain living in a boot camp, and hundreds of incompetent books read, my my mind is in knots and my heart is anywhere but on my sleeve. I am struggling to enjoy my youth and contain my superior intelligence and wisdom which I possess over other people my age. From here, my story begins...
Next
...
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