Rampant

He’s my best friend.

But you want him to be more than that, don’t you?

Yes. I mean no. I mean, I-- I don't know.

You do know. Stop denying it. You’re in love.

Her brain taunted her with this last statement for a while, until the bell indicated that the class period was over. Elena contemplated the possibility that she was actually feeling something. But then she decided to dismiss those thoughts so she could concentrate on what was actually important. She left the tight, stuffy classroom and set her mind to head towards her next class. Though, somewhere along the loud and obnoxious chatter of the crowded hallway, she was sidetracked by her earlier impressions.

Everyday, this young lady battles her own thoughts, and wonders if anyone else does the same. She is in denial of her feelings. See, she is the type to be very apathetic, and semi-transparent. Emotions make her uncomfortable, so she chooses to ignore them. Though, as Elena’s high school career trudged along, she realized that her permanent stolid expression may actually crack and twist into a smile one day soon.

Her heart twitched, as if it was reinforcing what her mind involuntarily suggested. Inside, she smirked because she knew that her thoughts were right. She almost smiled, but then she remembered that she was standing in the middle of the overcrowded hallway, not too far from her next class. Elena overthinks quite often. Her mind sets up every possible scenario for everything she encounters. If she has a test, she imagines what will happen if she failed, and how her life and future endeavors would be impacted. She occasionally saw past that and imagined what would happen if she were to pass the test, though this outcome was not as predictable as the latter. Elena continuously found it difficult to focus on the positive rather than the negative. She blamed her upbringing and moved on with her life.

Her next class was geometry, where she learned how to calculate the area of a trapezoid. Considering the fact that she was a fairly good student (most people would consider her a good student but she was honestly never satisfied with her grades, and neither were her parents-- they all had high expectations and knew what it took to accomplish perfection) she understood what the lesson pertained of and continued to daydream. She figured that she could teach herself the material while she completed the homework, as she has done plenty of times before. Somehow, her brain managed to relate medians and heights to her presently nonexistent love life and all of the unexpected things that could happen in the future. Only Elena would try to anticipate the unexpected, it’s a part of her nature. Yet again, she set up scenarios regarding her thoughts from earlier that day. What if things worked out between her and her crush and they lived happily ever after like in a fairytale? Then, as always, the negative outcomes loomed over her like a dark cloud. What if she tells him how she feels, and he doesn’t feel the same? Would they still remain friends? Would this experience wreck their relationship as it was? Would these feelings last or was this just a phase that will soon be overshadowed by some other teenage cliché? She realized that she was concentrating on the negative and immediately dismissed the thoughts altogether and concentrated on the lesson. Not too long after, Elena’s teacher was rudely interrupted by yet another bell and every single anxious student, buzzing with energy, spilled out into the hallways from every possible opening. It was there that Elena, already breathing hard from running (not only for the sake of time, but she was running away from her thoughts, though they seemed to catch up to her with no effort at all) was confronted with her worst nightmare. She forgot that her best friend Andrew always walks her from geometry to art because he was headed to art as well, where his desk was right next to hers. Elena figured that it was only right that she suffered the consequences for wanting to be near a friend since day one on the first day at her new school. She never thought she wouldn’t want to sit with him, but with the school year coming to a close, it made sense that everything has changed.

Andrew and Elena had been sitting near each other since kindergarten, as they were always in the same classes and their teachers arranged their seating alphabetically by last name. The two were practically forced to become best friends. Elena trusted Andrew so much, he was the only person who has seen her show emotion.  

As they sat down at their desks, Andrew noticed that Elena seemed strange. Elena didn't know that her face was red and she looked sad and confused.

“What's wrong, Lena?”, asked Andrew, obviously concerned because this was not a usual vibe.

“Oh. Nothing. Noth-- nothing’s wrong. I'm fine”, Elena answered, a bit startled and nervous. The lost tone and quick pace of her response was so low, Andrew leaned in towards her to hear her answer.

“What was that?”, he asked once again.

“Get away from me!”, Elena screamed at him as she turned around and headed to the nurse’s office on the other side of the enormous campus. Elena was so flustered, her head was pounding, matching the rhythm of her heartbeat. Then, everything went black and Elena felt her head hit the floor.

~~~~

Elena woke up and immediately she panicked. She had no clue where she was or what she was doing. All she saw were blank white walls and a television screen, though she didn't hear it playing. As she pieced together her surroundings, a dark haired, fair skinned, attractive male figure creeped into her field of vision. She forgot who he was, but all she knew was that she wanted to kiss him. But she couldn't wrap her mind around the concept enough to actually kiss this mysterious boy. If she remembered how to kiss, she definitely would have. Then, she rose from the plank position that left her back aching. The male figure stepped away from her just enough for Elena to determine who he was, though it was awkward because he looked so much older. Coming to that recognition, she realized how glad she was that she didn't kiss him. Elena yawned, and it scared her a little because the strong inhalation caused an even stronger pain in her sternum.

"Hi! How are you? How do you feel? Are you okay?" asked Andrew, his voice as concerned as it was the last time she heard him speak.

"I'm fine. I'm okay."

Elena was suddenly brought back to reality and recollected the events of their last conversation. Elena felt like she wanted to faint again, but just as soon as that feeling emerged, it was suppressed. Andrew was shoving a juice carton in her face, insisting that she drink it because her blood sugar was really low. The display of affection was slightly overbearing, considering the condition Elena was in, though she appreciated it.

“Where are my... my...” Elena struggled to concentrate on what was missing.

“Your parents? They had to go home and take care of your little sister. They will be back around 4 in the afternoon.” Andrew knew exactly what she was thinking and answered the question. It sounded as if he had been rehearsing what he would do and say when Elena woke up for a really long time.

Andrew’s response provoked some serious thought. Elena realized that her mother was about 8 months pregnant with a little girl when she fell asleep. Elena could see the emergency “birthing time bags”, as her parents referred to them, stacked in a corner in the living room of the family’s house.

“Um... Andrew. What time is it?”

“It is a quarter to 2.”

“And what day is it?

“Today is Thursday. Thursday, April 24.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Things still weren’t making sense to Elena. She tried to figure out why her voice was slightly deeper than she remembered it to be and her hair a few inches longer than it was the last time she touched it. But her head hurt, so she didn’t allow her curiosity to irritate her.

A few weeks later, Elena felt like a whole new person. She decided that she wanted to return to school, with Andrew faithfully by her side like the saline bag and tubes she found in her arms when she woke up. But Andrew was not as annoying as all of those things, Elena actually enjoyed having Andrew by her side. She felt important. All of her classmates gawked at her as if she had entered a foreign land. Then she noticed, yet again, that everyone looked older to such a significant degree. As Elena and Andrew strolled into their first class of the day, the teacher greeted them (the greeting was directed more toward Elena, but considering Andrew hasn’t been mentally present, it felt appropriate) by welcoming them to their senior year. This shocked Elena, but not that much.

All of a sudden, questions flooded Elena’s mind. How was she going to go to college? What did they learn sophomore, junior and most of senior year?  Was she going to prom? Would she graduate with her class? Why wasn’t she with the sophomores? She attempted to ask Andrew, but he insisted that he had everything under control. Elena remembered that she was talking to her bestfriend, who she has a crush on. The way he displayed control and authority made her love him even more. The new Elena was not afraid to show her emotions. Matter of fact, she was so confident, she kissed Andrew in the middle of class. She didn’t care about what everybody else thought. Matter of fact, she forgot that there were other people in the room.

This is weird. I finally understand why everyone loves kisses. It’s more than lips touching. I feel his heartbeat and I think he can feel mine. Wow, I love Andrew. Haha I feel the generic fireworks. Okay, I should stop now.

As their lips separated, they each opened their eyes and smiled. They left class with stars in their eyes.  “I’ve been waiting to do that since freshman year. That’s why I didn’t want to talk to you, or sit next to you, or get close to you, because I was in love with you and didn’t know how to cope with my feelings.” Elena released a sigh of relief. It felt good to get that out of her system.

“You could’ve just told me that.”

“I know, but I was scared.”

“Why?” Andrew chuckled. “I thought we were close enough for us to be able to talk about anything?”

Elena did not like the fact that he had questions. But she answered them nonetheless. “I don’t know. I guess I thought I would ruin our friendship.”

“Oh, I guess that’s okay. But you know you can tell me anything. I bet you feel better now, don’t you?”

“Most definitely.” Elena chuckled as she confirmed Andrew’s statement. She forgot how comfortable she was with him. “I’m glad I had feelings for you rather than anyone else.”

Andrew then noticed something and, out of curiosity and the fact that he was comfortable enough to talk to her about anything, decided to question Elena yet again. “Why are you talking in past tense?”

“Because that was freshman year. This is senior year.”

Andrew took this offensively. “But you just kissed me in the middle of class.” The bell that started the next class period rang, but the two ignored it out of fury. Andrew felt betrayed because he sensed a lack of trust between them. Elena knew this and it made her uncomfortable so she just walked away and never looked back.

In a perfect world, Elena and Andrew would have lived happily ever after, but every friendship (even if it is more than just a friendship) has its end.

In Hopes of Money

Many of the rich people we know of got their money from an ancestor, described using the term old money. Old money comes from the generations before. It is passed down from that one brilliant ancestor who struck it big in a developing society, or did something that nobody else was willing to do, and was paid handsomely for their courage, talent, or whatever else they use to make money. Then, said brilliant ancestor died and left the money to their only kid or their favorite kid. That kid then lives and grows with the advantages of having that money to their unlimited availability. That kid then passes on to the afterlife, and leaves that money as inheritance to the next generation, and the cycle of advantages based on their economic status or the value of their surname.

However, all old money has a start as new money. New money represents the successes in one's life. It comes from hard work and passion for something that pays off in the long run. That new money can then turn into old money, depending on what is done with the money, using the same process as old money. These people may be considered extraordinary because of their financial capabilities compared to everybody else.

Everybody else either generates new money or falls into the middle class. The middle class, long explanation cut short, consists of everybody that are either working in hopes of becoming new money, or are working and spending money to the point where they are living paycheck to paycheck, leaving nothing in reserve. These are the type of people we see everyday, the ordinary people.

Im thankful for...

I dont really know who I should be thankful for in my 7th period class. I've known Connor the longest, as we were in the same ackie class. Henry and is in my geometry class and makes me and the whole class laugh. Amelia is on the cheer team with me and is like a big sister to me. Holly is another student that makes me happy to know I'm not the only wierdo in the world. Karmyn's been my dance buddy since last year and she's so funny and I know I can be goofy with her.

But there's one student I'm just a little more thankful for: Ivy! She's all of what I just mentioned and I can tell her anything. Ivy is that student that I feel like I'm going to know forever. I wouldnt mind knowing her forever, either. She's a fellow poet and a wonderful critic. She's a real friend and I love her for it.

At first, she commented on one of my blog entries and I didn't know who she was. She was just tjat kid who sat on the other side of the classroom. Then she moved closer to me, became my friend on facebook and a close stranger. Now, she's got my number and we talk everyday before class. She also walks me to my 8th period class. I'm so glad to have a friend like her, and I'm thankful for her!

I celebrate myself!

A lot of people consider me to be a wierdo. I'm okay with that though because that's how I am. Other people's opinions are irrelevant to me because I have created my own destiny and I choose to live with it. For this, I celebrate myself, the being who sees things in a totally different light. I choose to be different so I can celebrate myself, not the person I am trying to be.

Eyes are the window to the soul.

 

Look at that face. What do you see? I see memories of death and beautifulness that time was merciless with. The suspense of the true story is hidden in the shadow casted from his eyebrows upon his eyes. His many gruesome experiences are stored in the bags beneath his eyes. His brilliant mind holds secrets that are unleashed in his works. But those eyes share a story...

Edgar Allan Poe was an American writer who was born in the early 1800s. Orphaned by the age of three, he spent his youth with Mr. and Mrs. John Allan. He was separated from his older brother and younger sister, who went to live with other families. This part of his life ignites a theme of loss and abandonment in his text. Mr. Poe's dreams and desires were ignored as Mr. Allan encouraged him to become a businessman and Virginia gentleman. By the age of thirteen, young Edgar had written enough poetry to publish a book, but his request was denied by his headmaster who advised against it.

He was left to fend for himself at University of Virginia in 1826 with less then a third of sufficient funds. This forced his hand at gambling, which hindered him more than he was to begin with, so bad that he eventually had to burn his furniture to keep warm. This instills a sense of poverty and neglect which intensify the feeling of abandonment. He was so humiliated by his poverty that he returned home to his fiancée, who he later discover had become engaged to another in his absence. He was so heartbroken and fed up with Mr. Allan's poor treatment that he stormed out of the Allan mansion and enlisted in the US Army after publishing Tamerlane, his first book of poetry, at the age of eighteen. Shortly after, Edgar found out that his adoptive mother, Mrs. Allan, was dying of tuberculosis and wanted to see him before she died. Mr. Poe returned to see his mother, except she was covered by six feet of dirt and garnishment. The mutual grief felt by both Mr. Allan and Mr. Poe helped their relationship mend before Poe was appointed to the US Military Academy at West Point (after writing another work, of course). During his time at the academy, he heard that Mr. Allan remarried and didnt bother inviting nor informing Edgar of the ceremony. At this point, Poe was so outdone by Allan that he wrote a detailed letter describing how he was wronged by Mr. Allan throughout his life. After writing yet another book, Poe was thrown out of the Academy. By now, you'd think that Edgar Allan Poe was and early Bad Luck Brian. That he was. And his story continues with many women that came and went tragically, adding more pain to his roladex. His story finishes with an untimely death, at the age of forty. In this period, Poe has written multiple short stories, volumes of poetry, a novel, a textbook, a book of scientific theory, and hundreds of essays and book reviews. Some consider him to be the father of modern mystery and suspense.

His stories are not completely made up, but his reflections of his life.

Oooooh, the hardest question anyone can ask me...

What is an American?

Well, I'd say an American is someone who lives in one of the continents that end in "America". That's pretty much anyone of the Western Hemisphere of the Earth. In these Americas, there are many identities that are drastically different. An "American" can speak Portuguese and worship a God that controls everything. An "American" can speak modern English and worship the Son of God, but still be so sensitized to the everyday things that it doesn't even matter who they worship. An "American" can be brown skinned* from people of brown skin; or be flesh-toned with flesh-toned parents that, at some point or another, came from brown skinned people.

The "American" that is probably the most recognizable is the one that lives in the country called "America", such as yourself. By now, you've probably noticed that I put "American" in quotation marks whenever I use it. That is because nobody is 100% from America. Everybody has blood from another nation, even if it is 0.00000000000000000000000001%, it is still something.

The only true Americans that history can acknowledge are Native Americans, many of which are still around. However, when Englishmen arrived, they redefined the word "American". They made Americans seem like colonial patriots who are very proud of "The Land of the Free". Yeah, we're "free", with a few limitations called "The Constitution". But hey, thats America for you.

*DISCLAIMER: by "brown skinned", I do not always mean African American.

The Modern Puritan

Based on what I know, those of the Puritan religion are very religious. Therefore, my opinion of today's Puritan would be similar to how they were two hundred years ago.

I say this because, based upon the literature that we've read about Puritans, there isn't really much flexiblity in their religion. For example, in The Crucible, people died for being different. Like, seriously? There would be no such thing as the Puritan belief anymore. So many people in today's society are different, it doesn't make any sense!

My point is that Puritanism would either be dead or very strict as they already were.