A Snowy Crush

I was staring out the window, watching how each glittery snowflake gently landed on each other. I had been standing in front of that window for a while, debating whether I should go or not. Today was his last day, he was leaving early morning tomorrow, back to Monterrey, and I had to say good-bye. He was my crush.

I went for it. I put on my boots, my big puffy coat, my scarf and my gloves and I was out the door without anyone knowing it. I still, to this day, have no idea how I managed to go out the front door without anyone seeing me. 

Walking there wasn't far, ten minutes tops. The falling snow had slowed down, everything was still, the only noises I heard was the crunch of the snow as I made each step and every once in a while a car would slowly pass.

When I finally arrived, I took my time trying to ring the doorbell. The woman who opened the door was his aunt. She was also my elementary school friend's mom-- unfortunately, our friendship slowly drifted apart when we began middle school. Now that we were in high school, a friendship no longer existed, we were just teammates in soccer and classmates in some courses-- she was kind and welcomed me inside. I told her the reason I was there and she called my crush to come downstairs because he had a visitor. He was surprised to see me and asked me a ton of questions. How did you get here? You walked, how long? Are you cold? What are you doing here? That last question, I wanted to tell him that I was there because I had a crush on him and I couldn't bear to see him go without saying good-bye and without wishing him we'll, but I couldn't; I didn't have the guts to do it. I ended up telling him pretty much everything except the most important part, that I had a crush on him. He had always seen me as a friend, I had known it all along because he liked another girl, he made it very obvious.

I hugged him before I left. They offered to give me a ride but I kindly rejected the offer. I needed to walk back home and clear my head a bit. As I walked through the slush on the road, I wanted to let my tears become part of the slush, but I managed to hold them in. I took a good look at the snow and began thinking that my crush story is like the snow. At first, it is beautiful to look at and play in, but once it's gone, it's gone.

The Scarecrow-- promo video by Chipotle Mexican Grill

The message that this short promo video portrays is true! Fast food restaurants say one thing and do another. The so claimed "All Natural" really is not; it's no joke when the video says "100% beef-ish!" The funny thing is that most of us know it. There have been a ton of other videos and claims about other fast food restaurants not being honest about what they put in their food. This video works because no words are actually being spoken, it's a very visual and auditory message.

There's one thing that I noticed and it is very effective. Even the birds are not natural, they're robot crows. Also, I love how it does not bash on any fast food restaurant, how it appeals to pathos, and how it doesn't even say it's Chipotle until you see the scarecrow harvesting the actual chipotle. This video tells us to care more about what we eat and to literally "cultivate a better world."

Scar Story

A lot of us have a story to tell from wounds and scars that we carry with us each day. Some have very amazing stories, others are more simple. I have the more simple ones; the ones that I could say are my fascinating scar stories both involve bicycles. Lame? I know. But, hey every story is different and has its own twist.

My new bike couldn't let me down. We were pretty close to a tie, if I could beat him on the curve, I would for sure win the race! I went for it. I'm almost positive that I drifted, that is if an eight year old could drift on a bicycle. I did drift, but I drifted my body onto the floor, landing on sharp little rocks. As my cousin saw me headed towards the ground, he too stopped and stationed his bike. He noticed it before I did, red liquid stuff trickling down my knee, painting the rocks an unpleasant red. I knew something was wrong because my legs and arms ached and the neighborhood kids who were watching us race started to gather around me. I looked at my knee because that's what hurt the most as I tried to get up. I couldn't believe my eyes, I thought I was going to die when I saw a small rock engraved into my skin! I didn't want to move; I sat there crying until someone called my grandma over. Without mercy, she plucked the  rock out of my left knee.

"Ouch!" I yelled.

The other kids oohed and awed because of the wound that the rock had left. It had literally dug all the way into my bone as to where you could actually see the bone. It was the whitest white I had ever seen in my life! I cried even more because I thought it was going to stay like that forever.

I looked over to my cousin, he had a worrisome look on his face. 

"What's wrong," I asked.

"This is all my fault," he said, "if I knew you were going to get hurt I wouldn't have raced you... You win!"

Who am I?

It is a question that often comes up; a question that many individuals seek the answer to, yet, often leave unanswered. Who am I?

A series of other questions usually tag along. Where do I come from? Where am I going? How am I going to get there? These are the most basic and common ones among all the ones that arise. So, who am I?

I am a first generation Latina college student, currently attending Benedictine University at Mesa, intending to major in Communication Arts. Often times, when people wonder where my roots are from, they think that I am mixed and not fully Mexican, but indeed, I am not mixed! I was the oldest of three, until my father remarried; I have  a step-brother who is older than me by a month! My other three siblings are currently in high school, so, it gets chaotic sometimes. (By the way, I am now the second oldest of five.)

When I was asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?," I was always stumped because my thoughts and ideas were all over the place; I wanted to do everything, seriously. First, I would say that I wanted to be a teacher (that was in first grade), then, I wanted to be an artist (I stuck with that one for a few years). It wasn't until my junior high years when I started to enjoy creative writing, including writing essays for my 8th grade English class with Mr.Denniston. But, even then I wasn't so sure journalism and such was what I wanted to do as a lifelong career. I also enjoyed History very much! The social studies, I think, was my thing! After the first semester of high school, I realized that I truly did enjoy the humanities. I was involved in programs and competitions such as We The People, YMCA District Mock Trial, Teen Court, and Model United Nations. That last one listed, that's the one that changed all of my ideas of what it was that I wanted to do "when I grew up." My new dream: I was going to work within the United Nations someday.

So, why a Communication Arts major, right? Well, the plan is to first obtain my undergraduate degree, Bachelor of Arts. The major I chose is something I enjoy doing and is preparing me well for a graduate degree. I intend to go to Law School, possibly immediately after my Bachelor's, if not, I will work towards earning a Master's in some branch of Business first, then, graduate school. However, I do have in mind that most students change their major at least once, and although I feel very confident in what it is that I want to do with my life, I also know that there is a higher King that watches over us and sometimes guides us in different paths. So, obviously my plans are not set in stone. Things change and people change.

What's Your Problem?

My problem? Well, that's a very broad question. It can be answered in a plethora of ways. I could approach this at a personal level, as many  may have understood it when they first heard that question being asked. Oddly, this question is labeled to be a negative one, however, one can look at it in a different perspective-- a positive one! we can turn "bad" into "good" just like we learn from our mistakes. What's my problem? My problem is that I still haven't learned to live each day as if  it were my last, my problem is that I get so caught up in the little things I forget to look at the big picture every once in a while. Don't get me wrong, I do do positive things each day to try to live up to my expectations, yet, there's so much more work to be done! I guess we could put it in another way-- my problem is that I am struggling to find my purpose in life! I know I am young, still, I don't feel quite complete.

Question: What Inspires Me?

The people around me inspire me. The way I see some handle two jobs and they still manage to put great and beautiful smiles on their face, that to me is so inspiring; it tells me to not get so caught up in the little things. Then, there are those that have this intense passion for what they do; it makes me want to do the same, yet, sometimes I worry that I may not reach that point at all. Also, there are the ones that live for others, they go out of their way to help someone else even if it means that they have to sacrifice something that they really needed or really wanted. Now, the next step is not to get inspired rather to inspire others with your story, your struggles and challenges, and what you did to overcome them.