Acting, Writing or Teaching….

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For the last two days I have been contemplating between acting lessons and writing lessons. I don’t know which to choose out of the two. And lately I have been thinking about my future and where I want to go in the next five to ten years. My teacher suggested that I should get a MFA in English, my career adviser says I should get a degree in Creative Writing and go into film or go into editorial work, either as a writer, poet or editor. Musical Theater teacher says that I should take a chance, take a leap into the theater world, my friends says I should continue to sing and my cousin says that I be on the stage. And my family believes I should go the safe path and be a teacher.

Though I tell them that I would be horrible teacher. Constantly telling them how I rant, lose track of my thoughts, have a terrible way of explaining things and a lack of leadership abilities and traits. They believe that teaching is the only path I can take when majoring in English. I don’t know what’s the true path for me, but I know that there is something more within me. Than teaching. And though I love my teachers and I know that teaching is important. I know within me are novels yet to be published, are poems screaming to be heard are songs tickling the hairs of my tongue, scripts waiting for me to read, are TV shoes desiring to be viewed and words wishing to be written.

Maybe I’m going the wrong path, but I believe that I can only find the right path by trying out my dreams. Even if they sound impossible. I know that I will regret not taking the leap.

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Alicia and Kasernage drafts.

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These are simple drafts that I have created of my two main characters. I know there is nothing much to them now. But these are the final common looks for Alicia and Kasernage (though he is actually an alien). I think his picture better suits their personalities and relationship. Bringing these characters more to life.

Lovers...? Or just mere co-workers?

Alicia and Kasernage draft picture. The two main characters to my upcoming comic.

Merry Christmas or Xmas or Happy Holidays or Happy Nothing to most!!!

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   In my household we eat on Christmas Day and open our presents on Christmas Eve. Why? I don’t really remember why but ever since I was small I remember opening my presents a day earlier than everyone else I knew. Christmas Eve was Christmas Day to me, the family came together, we had dinner, the christmas tree was alight, we sung carols and songs, spoke of christmases gone past and opened lovely wrapped boxes and presents that sat decoratively under the tree. We would smile, laugh, debate and even sometimes fight on Christmas Eve more than we did on Christmas Day.

  But for some reason this Christmas was different, not because of the lack of presents under the tree, the baby boomer that often complained and pitied herself for being pregnant or their loud children than ran about the house without care. No it was different because I was, I have gotten to the point where I don’t care anymore if I was alone or with them. Because I realized that no matter how many Christmases went by, I was still alone, different. During their christmas laughter, I knew my words, my thoughts, my ideals was nothing like my grandparent’s or father’s. What he believed was not what I believed. 

  And for some reason, turning 20 this year I yearned more than ever to be released from my parent’s. I yearned for freedom, I yearned for my own space, for my own experiences. To no longer be seen as a child. I yearned to step outside of my box and for once discover the world without commentary of my parent’s. Maybe its rebellion, maybe its hormones. But I wish to be different for once and not to be looked upon, or corrected because I’m different. Even the littlest things bug me now. Even the littlest difference of opinion tugs at my strings. I have become defensive somewhat and easily angered, not because they disrespect me but because I feel as if they wish to tie me and wrap me in a bow of familiarity. As if they refuse to let me be me.

  So I don’t eat fat on the bone, or I don’t eat everything thing that’s offered so what, why does it matter how much or how little eat. So sometimes I like being alone and not being around my family. Why should it bug them. I understand Christmas is a time for family. But sometimes pushing yourself to be something you have no desire in being at that moment is not healthy. Sometimes I yearn to be myself, to be myself, to have myself. Constantly putting myself out there for others is tiresome.

 I know this isn’t a very happy Christmas message, but its mine. Merry Christmas to all the loners, Happy Xmas to all the individuals. Happy Holidays to all the mes and Happy Nothing to everybody!

 

Allergic to fights (Sorry its really weird post)

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I think I’m allergic to fights, spats, moments of tension in places where peace should settle to stitch it’s lovely lullabies into blanketed dreams of past wishes for the children of men. Cause every time like magic, like clockwork, like *snap*! I feel my eyes lifting its weighted wings of lashes, I feel my body breath into itself filling my heavy leaded lung with air and fire like twitches throughout my fingers and toes like a firework set up on warm July nights. 

Cause every time I hear my parent’s voices raise into agonizing cries of attention, anger and disappointment. I arise, to hear their calls, their barking, their soundless tears. I arise because somehow my sleep is fully driven upon the power of calmness, of eruptions snoring,  of violent kicking of night terrors and smiling tears of dreams. 

Now whether that means that I am a utterly happy person or maybe an extremely sensitive person to the emotions of others does not matter. For what does matter is that, I seem to wake up in the middle of fights. While others sleep peaceful, dreaming of gorgeous turning flowers of bloom and silhouettes of dreamy love boys and girls that arouse our bodies into a tangle of guilt and pleasure. I am left to awake to the settle sounds of tension, the settle sounds of cries.

And though my parent’s love each other, I do fear that fighting is a contagious form for others not quite like them for breaking up. Not because they lack love but rather because they simply seem to forget that they are not the same person. Many times people enter into marriages believing they are one, wishing they was one, hoping to be one. But what most people to tend to forget, is that marriage is simply the union, the mysterious formula of how two whole pieces become one. It is not that two people are broken, or halves but rather the idea. That two people already whole in themselves, finds something slightly unnecessary and yet impossible to ignore to be bonded not for society, not childbearing, but utterly for the selfish reason of themselves.

Marriage and love to some might be something made up, might be an illusion, a fairy tale we tell our children to implement a tradition.

But to me its something quite valuable, if its done right. You’ll never have to worry a day in your life about who loves you, who wants you, who needs you and who understand you. Marriage when done right, will stop people from yearning for attention, will stop people’s lack of self-esteem, it will encourage us to be our all, it will lift us to live our all, it will be answer to our most difficult problems and the crutch when we feel like we can’t live anymore. Marriage is not just simply settling down, but a union, a bond. That assures two people that they can make it, not because one is stronger than the other, or one lacking more than the other. But because you have found something in the other that is necessary to survive, to live. Not for the essence child bearing but for the essence of existence. 

We find who we are, when we feel that who we are is accepted by someone that we believe we don’t deserve. We discover what we can be, when we feel like we don’t what we was. Marriage is only successful when we find someone who not only makes you happy for now, but will make you happy for then and there. Marriage is successful when a person is not only able to show you where you rise but where you fall. Marriage is successful when someone is not only able to support you but to push you to be all you can be with helpful advice. Love is not about letting people do what they want, but its about letting people do what they need. Because your friends would let you do what you want, but they won’t always help you do what you need. 

And maybe this post is a little weird and off topic, but somehow this has been itching my brain for awhile. Maybe its because my birthday is coming and I realized that while all my other friends are finding boyfriends, going, having crushes. That I’m alone. When I see my parent’s and how happy they are, no not happy. Joyful they are. They are so happy, that even when they fight, their happiness turns to joy. Because they love each other that no matter how loud they get, I know they would never let it tear them apart. 

So maybe I’m just allergic to their fights… who knows.