Saturday, November 13, 2010

Scooters. Trees.

Swish. Swish. Swish. I tackled the ride down the line, then I made a loop to go back. Back and forth, every night I would do this seemingly repetitive and meaningless act. Despite the perception, this was my way of meditating, my way of thinking.

I used to ride my scooter when I had many thoughts on my mind. I used to ride the scooter when I was depressed, downtrodden, angry, pensive. My neighbors probably thought me an eccentric girl. The girl who would ride the scooter back and forth on a rectangular piece of cement I call my yard. So then I decided to ride at night. Riding around around my neighborhood was unacceptable to my ama.

Sometimes, I would grab a chair, pulling it as close to my tree as possible, and I would lean back in my chair, look up at the sky, and thank God for giving me a yard. I would thank God for giving me a tree. I thanked God for giving me a strong mom. I thanked God for Tweety - my bird. I thanked God for giving me lemons. I thanked God that despite all the trouble brewing inside my head I had relatively peace in me too.

I was sixteen.

It's a bit troubling for me to talk about religion - even just talking about it a little bit. I am not a practicing Christian or Catholic, but I was. I know that ultimately I do believe in God. I have seen that I simply cannot be true to myself if I were to become an atheist and deny God. To me it seems that He is the only person that holds me accountable for all my failures and successes - no one else quite cares the same way. When my mother was lost in her own world, and so was the rest of my family, I had to fend for myself. But I wanted to feel like someone cared for me too. So then, there was God. I don't know how to explain, or if I can, but I know he was there for me, when not even my mom, brother, family, or friends were there, which happened various times growing up.

However, I do not believe that things happen because God made them so, no. I know I have control of what happens to me in life.

I am the driver of my car.


So the night sinks to darkness, and I want to wake up. But today my eyes are heavy with sleep, and I have to wake early to meet the sunrise face, hoping it was night greeting me to the start of day.

Monday, November 8, 2010

Saturday, November 6, 2010

Welcome to the All-American City!

Placentia, tucked right under the chin of the 57 freeway, carries one of the best ice parlors I know of around town - and yes, I don't really know of many.

I paced myself to the parlor's entrance, taking in everything the so-called All American city could offer. In the distance I could only see a sign for Carne Asada on sale for 2.99, and the freeway jammed with cars all along its line - it was getting dark.

Inside, the fan whirled to a constant beat, and the dim place reminded me of Long Beachesque places. The two guys seemed to be around my age, blasting the music of All-American Rejects and classic rock. Their eyes were a bit familiar, I could tell that they probably did not venture too much out of town.

I handed him a a dollar with thirty five cents and bought myself a massive ice-cream with cone about the length of my arm. The seats were a bit worn of faded blue. The workers there were really nice, and they even turned on the lights for me as I plopped on a seat, taking out Sartre to read - the reading bogged my mind for a bit, since I was helping a student of mine understand it, I had to understand it first.

As i licked the last drops of delicious ice cream from the cone, I stood up to go. I smiled a quick thanks to him and hurried to my car, I had spent more time inside than I had intended. Yet, the only thing waiting for me was more traffic. Some of the ice cream around, reading and relaxing a bit before the drive, helped me prepare to face the monster ahead of me: traffic.