Journal #23

Solitary or Sociable?

Solitary and sociable are an example of basic terms for introvert and extrovert. Introverts are usually quiet and not a fan of large groups or social activities and more like to reflect on things/events by themselves. Whereas extroverts are more outgoing and like being with large groups and recharge and feel comfortable with social activities.

I personally view myself as an introvert given that I am quiet and shy and not one to shout to be noticed. I enjoy doing activities that do not include others like reading, writing, and drawing with either silence or having music play softly in the background. Lately, I feel a little overwhelmed with large groups/crowds of people because usually everyone is so much bigger and louder than I am. I am mostly my own person, not following the latest fashion or new trends. I do and pick things that I love and not what is popular or anything like that. In truth I could careless but sometimes there are new things that I like and I choose to like them because I can, not because it seems like I have to.

I do believe introversion and extroversion are a vital factor in this world. It creates diversity in many forms and in different variations of the some forms. Without introverts and extroverts everyone would be the same basically and a dull world that would be. There would not be as many point of views and thoughts that could be appreciated for how unique they are. Most likely there would be the same views but with some slight differences here and there. Overall the world is mostly balanced and has diversity due to introverts and extroverts being so different to also having many similar qualities.

Journal # 21

10 Little Minions of Myself

To have 10 clones of myself and retain their memories would be astounding and very helpful. First off I would have 5 of  them study each subject I have, History, Algebra 2, English, Biology, and Spanish, very intensely. Then later I will retrieve that knowledge and remember it for midterms and hope for a high B or an A. I would have another clone work with me or at a different time that me at my job. Then I could save more money faster for a car and Driver Ed classes and then eventually gas. The seventh one would read some Poe, Cummings, Shakespeare and the original Grimm  stories because I have been meaning and wanting to do that for quite some time. The eighth would draw with different mediums and finish writing some of my poems and learn all about art history. This one will do the things I love to do to calm down and let me mind wander, which is something I have been meaning to do as well.  My tenth and last minion of myself would learn all it could on microbiology, viruses, and HIV/AIDS. I’m learning some stuff and doing much in my microbiology labs dealing with HIV and AIDS and its fascinating, especially the DNA mutations(Delta 32, TG5 mutations), and I would love to learn more about it. The clones of myself would be very beneficial to me with expanding my knowledge and filling my mind with wonderful information.

Journal #18

Dream Escape

My dream island would consists of just the few things that make me feel at ease and happy. To start off there would be a room that would look small on the outside but in, it would contain millions and millions of books. There would be genres ranging from fantasy fiction to scientific papers even. Classic books of all kinds would be there and of course many being about poetry. Connected to this wonderful library of mine would be a coffee/bakery/ice cream shop but nothing like anyone had ever seen before. I could make myself any hot beverage with the freshest ingredients from coffee beans to herbs for tea. Fresh  baked goods would always be ready for my tasting, mostly chocolate related pastries. The ice cream part would contain exotic, unique flavors but of course the classic flavors would be there, too.

One might think, ‘How could this get better? Books and ice cream. What else would one need in life?’ Just wait it can be better. Now connected to these rooms is a drawing room lined with art supplies and writing utensils as far as the eye can see. Beautiful natural light pours in through huge windows, ceiling to floor despite the time of day or night. A rustic feel comes from the room but it stills feel light and organic. A writing desk and easel are where the magic happens. I can write and draw as much as my heart wants without any trouble or interruption. A majestic, wonderful place that would be that I can call my own.

Texting and Driving Poem

Blink of an Eye

A blink of an eye

Is all it takes

To decide yours and someone else’s

Fate.

Don’t be that fool

Who ruins it all,

Not just for you

But for everyone too.

Be in control

And know it can wait,

Focus on the present

Before it’s too late.

Imagine a world

Safe as can be.

Responsibility is the key,

Just wait and see.

Crash and bang

Could be the last sounds

You hear because

The message was just so dear.

Yet, if you survive

Then you must face

The consequences

And be a disgrace.

The face of death

Is what you’ll wear,

For your scythe

Could not wait

To the a life

Not planned to go.

Oh how you

Altered the life of everyone close.

The shameful thing of all

Is what you must say

To the family of the loved one

That cannot be replaced.

How would you feel?

Would you take their place?

Because you are the one

Who made the mistake.

Now you are left with

That thought in mind.

With a pain and heartache

Trail close behind.

You cannot escape it.

There’s no where to hide.

You will always remember

A blink of an eye.

______________________
1. Scythe- Grim reaper's staff.
Curved blade attached to a long
pole.

Journal #12

Rare

I rarely see the light of day. In the few times that I do get to see the light, I bathe in the warm golden rays of the sun. I take it all in with long breathes. I usually hide in the deepest part of a drawer or tucked away safely in a wallet. I feel as if I am a special secret that only a few people know about. Yet, wherever I may be, which hasn't been many places, I know I am appreciated due to my rareness. I do not recall seeing a relative of mine in a very long time. I fear they are no more but I still hope they are stowed away safely like I am. I have not been spent in ages. My owner now has either great pride or forgotten about me. I know many would like to be spent on something and meaningful, I would like that too but i do not think that is in my future. So I settle for little or simple things to be spent on. For example, ice cream on a first date or maybe something someone really worked hard on saving up for from working. It's those little moments that, that gives my existence a purpose. I may not live a very exciting life but it is one that is worth living for.

Journal #11

English, Really?

Struggling trying to figure out what class to take? That was how I was. Now just sit back, relax and let me help you make your decision a little more clearer.

English class may seem intimidating and pointless to many but not this english class, not at all. It will keep you on the edge of your seat, just waiting to hear what is going to happen next. The teacher, Mr. Juarez, knows how to grab the students attention and keep them wanting to learn more. Each story or Poem you read helps change your perspective in the best way possible. The class really makes you think and interpret things in a way you never thought you could. English class lets the creative side of anyone come out and play for a while. It makes putting a pencil to paper mean so much more. It gives you a chance to show who you are and what you can do in a beautifully way and that way is called writing. Writing is a way to help you leave your mark on this world and this class makes it seem that it actually means something, that there is a purpose to it all. Overall this class is a real page-turner, literally.

Journal #8

End of The Road

This world has gone to pure chaos. I used to have the strength to get by and make the most of this terrible world, not for me but for my son. He deserved to live his life not survive in it. He was the one thing that kept me fighting another day, to make this place better for him. He was always positive and full of so much hope even though we have lost the few who were dear to us most. Before and the start of all this it was just him and me but now it’s just me…

My son was the only thing I had left. The one thing that put a smile on my face and I cannot let that go, I will not. We had made it so far. I kept him safe and healthy and the minute I let my guard down, it was a minute too long. It’s all my fault. If I would of watch my surroundings more thoroughly this would of never happened. What’s the point of surviving when you lost the one thing that made you want to live?

When he was “transforming” I could not end his suffering. I could not let him go, not yet. There was still this part of me that thought he might get through this. He might be one of the few who were immune. I clung on to hope so hard and I did not let go. Once the breath left his body and all that remained was coldness I knew it was too late. Then a rasped inhale filled the room. I looked down at him, my baby boy, with blurry vision. He clawed at me and moaned in hunger. I ran out the room and locked the door. I have never cried so hard in my life. He was gone and I will never get my boy back. It was like a part of me died and turned with him. I am not the same anymore. I do not think I ever will be the same.

Whenever I left the house I could hear his moans echo through the empty streets. Our neighbors who some how managed to make it through this disaster looked at me different. They use to have warm smiles and hellos for me but now I receive stern looks and threats to my baby boy. I know it is not right for me to keep him locked in there but I do not want to be alone. It is selfish, I know but I do not want to. There is no point for me to keep trying to survive in this world if there is no future for him. All in all I know what I have to do.

Weapon in hand I walk do the locked door with my son on the other side of it. With a deep breath and tears streaming down my cheeks I turn the door knob. He turns and looks at me and tries to walk to me. He is weak and his flesh is rotting. I look into his eyes and I do not see him anymore. Eyes once warm and young are now cold and hungry. I take one more look and then do what I have to do. The right thing for him to be able to move on. His blood stains my hands. What have I done?

I am utterly alone now. I have no one. I have no more purpose. I am not a mom anymore. No mother should out live her son. It is not fair. This life is not fair. He deserved more. He was too young. None of that matters now, like I do not matter. I am at the end of the road...