i've found my Mind...

So studying abroad is really looking like a reality for this summer. I still have a few things to go and take care of in preparation for the program, but I’m so excited. I’ve always wanted to go to England and not to mention, I absolutely love the English accent and I can’t think of a better place to study English than in England at Oxford!!! Passport application, here I come!

His sharp colorless eyes stare out through the glass jar. His wings are weighed down by the humidity of the air that’s trapped inside. The jar is opaque with thin streaks of filth circling it.

The jar sits out on the third step leading down from the front porch of the house. Leaves surround the base of the jar, reminding him of the world he’s cut off from. Gentle shades of mahogany and copper and maroon are left behind in the leaves’ veins as the last traces of life scurry out of them. It’s a beautiful sight - simply amazing - but not the easiest thing to enjoy during a moment like this. 

He was caught three days ago by a kid named Jake. The boy loved being outside with nature and he hadn’t intended to keep him for long. But you know how kids are. They love adventure and splashing mercilessly through puddles and forgetting about butterflies trapped behind glass walls, surrounded by leaves. 

The weight of the water in the air is unbearable. His wings are soaked and dangle along his sides. His eyes shift back and forth as the wind shuffles his playlist of foliage. New leaves blow by the glass. 

“This isn’t that terrible.” He says silently to himself. “I’ve always loved the outdoors;” he closes his eyes and rests his head against the glass. 

A strong gust of wind ruffles more leaves and turns the jar on its side. The fresh air is soothing and dries the moisture from his body. He walks to the edge of the jar after righting himself and pulls his wings above his head. The wind catches them as he forcefully pulls his wings down in a sweeping motion. He darts through the air with a smile on his face; enjoying the fresh caress of the wind underneath his wings. 

In comparison, it’s a really minute part of my life, but it’s definitely one of the most enjoyable. Sitting on the couch alone with my thoughts - everyone else has already gone to bed - listening to really good soulful music (Sade and Lauryn Hill, just to name a couple of artists). 

But I love this feeling of invincibility that flood my fingertips as I touch the tip of this felt-tip pen to the solid blue lines of the sheets of college ruled paper that line this journal. The words just flow out in a steady stream of black ink. Lines and curves form various letters - each with their own weight and meaning. Those words seem to tap dance on each page I turn, creating a melodic rhythm, with harmonic singing to accompany the instruments. 

It’s a beautiful moment. I love this part of life: the simplicity, the beauty of words. These are the times when I feel most alive - when I am able to take words and mold them into beautiful towering statues or miniature figurines designed for you or for me, better yet, for us. 

This is where I want to be next summer. I love being an English major; I love the freedom that I have to write and express myself through my words. I’ve recently realized that I cannot write using my laptop, I just feel so disconnected from my words and my characters and their stories. It’s a beautiful feeling being able to sit down with a pen and pad and write, just letting my words and thoughts and emotion flow over the pages in blue or black ink. Spending a summer at Oxford University would be amazing and so fitting for what I love to do. The university has such a rich history and so many great minds have studied there: T.S. Elliot, Robert Graves, Lewis Carroll, C. S. Lewis. They all left their mark on the literary world and I hope I can do the same. 

Blogging is pivotal for me… All the things I can’t squeeze into 140 characters, I can put it all here. All the things I don’t feel like saying aloud, I can scribble them down. I guess that’s writing period. I love doing this: the stories and poems and essays; it’s like they come alive underneath my pen and breath easily as the trot back and forth over their pages. It’s my safe haven, where nothing can go wrong. 

You know how you can have those off days – when you sit at home staring at your computer screen hoping that five page essay will just write itself – and then you think to yourself is all of this really, worth, it. Sometimes when I have those days, I can’t help but think back to watching my mom with her everyday struggles and strife going to work all the time so she could give me a better life. Raising four kids by no means is an easy task. You gotta deal with four times the diapers. Four times the terrible two’s. Four times the trying to save up for kids to go to college when you weren’t even able to go. But it’s even harder when you have to raise those kids by yourself. You remember how sometimes you would go to Wal-Mart and expect her to let you have all the skittles you wanted and then you too offense when she tapped your hand and told you no. Yeah, I did that too. Or the times growing up when she would look you in your eyes and tell you that you were her “little guy or girl” and she loved you with you with all of her heart. Yeah, my mom did that too. 

I think back to the day when I thought I was gonna lose her. The doctors were confused as to what was wrong. Tears poured from the corners of my eyes as I envisioned the possibility of her not being able to come back home. I cried and I cried, but somehow she was still so strong – lying in a hospital bed staring at the ceiling – I could only imagine what she was wondering. Probably about how bad she wanted to be back home with her little dumplings. My mom is foundation – my reasoning – my backbone. Without her in this world, I would be so, alone. But she’s still here. Still breathing – still working – still doing all she can to make sure her 2 big little kids and her 2 little ones at home have a better life to look forward to.

I think of all that my mom has gone through and all that she’s had to give, who am I to look at my college experience with downtrodden thoughts? How can I give up on a better life, when mine hasn’t actually started yet? Mothers are such precious beings. They give up so much for us. Their dreams, party lives, and freedom, just to make sure we have clothes shoes food and our dreams. Whenever you have those less than perfect days that put your mood in an unbearable haze; think about your mom and everything she’s had to go through. I salute my mom and I salute yours too. 

So yesterday, I read the most ridiculous story I think I have ever heard. A woman in Florida killed her toddler son because his crying prevented her from watering her plants on Farm Ville. And if that weren’t enough, she stopped shaking him to smoke a cigarette, then began shaking him again. 

After reading this, at first I was sad then just ANGRY!! I couldn’t understand how a mother could kill her son. I know that these things happen on a daily basis and all of these situations are extremely sad. But for a mother to kill her son over a videogame - something that isn’t vital for your survival - something that is extremely trivial in everyday life, it is utterly depressing. I hope she receives a strict punishment. I don’t support the death penalty in any facet, but I think she deserves to be locked away for a really long time - a really really long time.