“How to make stuffed Grape Leaves with Cucumber-Yogurt Sauce”

Everyone Blinks at the Same Pace ~ 3.14.09, my writing

Sitting. Knees bent. Legs crossed. Feet dangling off the seat.

Within a metal contraption that seems to speed with no regard to the possible animals that could easily be ahead.

Hopefully they feel the vibrations of the tracks before its too late.

Watching the naked trees, completely bare, robbed of everything. Nothing to show off its past beauty as they wish for spring to revive them. To bring a rush of vitality through their roots and through their branches.

They wait for their leaves to grow and flowers to bloom while the billets on the lifeless ground can do nothing, not even become petrified to stay forever.

It shall all wilt away with no one to know that it had be there in a life span of any creature that lives upon this planet.

We all pass by the same row of houses.



one another.

Familiarity being the corner stone for comfort.

Still I wonder how if everything is the same, can one live happily and not just contently?

There could never be any differentiation between houses or between people.

Sagacity would be easily lost.

A constant repetition, never a change within the daily routine of waking up to the same hypocrisy of life. Thinking everything is safer if nothing changes. Is it really safer with the same perspective? The same view?

 What if you look elsewhere or blink faster or even blink slower?

Yes, what if? Try it!




                                                         Do it, change it.


Thank you Mr. Gladding : 3 – 24 – 10 (my paper)

                                                                  Pick a moment that moved you Strangely.       

                                                                                        FREEZE IT…                                                                                                    



            I slowly melted, drifted away, felt numb. The after effect, able to breath but also feeling suffocated. Like a child may squeeze a balloon, so tightly that the inside air separates into different sections yet still unable to burst; the immense amount of never ending potential to explode. If my heart had legs, and if it were not contained by a jail of bones it would run away, run far away. My body felt as if it were left with a hole where my heart should have been, empty and painful.

            “Why does it hurt?” I asked her parents. “What is the logical explanation of this pain I feel, not magical or philosophical but explainable, scientific, realistic answers.”

            Like a broken faucet, teardrops continued to fall from my swollen eyes. They both just stared at me, trying to maintain their parental stability; they knew that they could not maintain it much longer.

            “I need to better myself,” my mother said, “ There are things that I have to figure out, but Daddy and I love you very much.” She said with a half grin as she began to tear herself.

            But how, I thought, is it possible to better oneself without a heart in its rightful place, a stable place, if only it were that simple. As well as a reason to why feeling numb, fading away, is normal. How is fading normal? They really are separating? I was going to live in two places, no, I could not accept it. I wished I could have gone back to when they were in love, back to when I could have crawled into there bed and make a fort out of all of their pillows and pretend that I, not my parents, was in charge of everything. It felt as if my world crumbling and diffusing into the ears and out of the mouths of gossips that passed by.  I sat, holding my legs close to my chest, and thought. I sank into the couch; call me the digger, for I buried myself deeper and deeper into the safety that the pillows on the couch had given me. Some how believing it would distance me from my parents even more.

             I was numb for a long time, I could not feel my lowest parts; my feet no longer kept me moving forward. I could not feel my mid section; my torso no longer kept me erect. I could not feel my arms; my hands no longer wanderd out stretched. I could not feel my neck; my head no longer was parallel to the ground. But after speaking with my parents as I grew up I knew I had to think in a different way. I told myself I must move forward by motivation and stay erect due to confidence. I must reach outward towards opportunity and look forward with curiosity.

            Nothing was understandable at that point everything was confusing. I wanted to have someone tell me it would be ok, just push forward. I know now that time is never-ending, like an ongoing carousel. At times before when I had tried to drag my feet, it kept turning and turning and turning. Unsure sometimes of what to say at different points in my life, what to think, where to go, and how to feel as well. A major event such as the separation of my parents changed my perspective, but I have finally come to accept it. It was one big bump on the road of life, along with many more to come.

             Not all people are happy, and that was the first time I had really experienced true sadness. In some way, it opened my eyes and pushed me to find something that made me truly happy, not something superficial, but lasting. It motivated me to paint and draw and create. I was so excited to be able to speak, or rather show who I was through my ideas and color. I began to pay attention to the smaller things that made me smile, as well as other types of expression. This was something that I found made me glow inside and proudly, still continues to do so. No longer did I have to keep my ideas or feelings inside feeling pointless. I used whatever emotion I had and milked it for all it was worth. Any emotion: happiness, sadness, confusion, anger, excitement, no matter what it was, I was able to create. I never take advantage of myself in the scene of causing emotion, but untainted expression, that is what it is all about.