Learning the Truth

When I was young, I was introduced to the idea of Santa Claus a little late. I was past the age of six, I remember that much. I was introduced to the concept of God; when I was much younger, yet didn’t really find meaning in all of it till I was about six. The funny thing Is; I accepted The existence of God. That God created the world in 7 days, but when my father told me of Santa Claus, I was like “nat ah”


The Truth about Santa Claus, is that I would have liked to believe in him, the concept is really awesome, if you truly truly believe, you can get all those awesome toys/gifts that you deserve, for being such a good kid. But I knew there wasn’t one. I knew that he was make-believe. I knew my poor parents where the ones getting me gifts, because I never really “wanted” for anything special, (for my first few years of life), therefore my parents would just pick something out for me. But of Course as I got older and began to understand that on Christmas, and my birthday, where days when my parents would spend large amounts of money on me, I learned to “want.”


And it was in the “wanting” that I got proof that there was no Santa Claus. It was the Scarlett O’Hara Barbie Doll, I may have been 6-8 years old, but I had spent so much time watching tv with my grandmother, that I had learned to have great taste in movies. So yes there is that about me, in my lifetime I have watched Gone With The Wind at least 10 times, (it’s a four hour movie) one that every girl who wishes to make something of herself should watch. I know it doesn’t teach good morals, but if you learn anything from it, is that Charm can take you a long way. So yes I wanted a Scarlett O’ Hara Barbie Doll. But I lived in Mexico, back then the dollar was 10 pesos, the Doll was 30 dollars, which was 300 pesos, So you can see my dilemma. Years Later, actually about 2-4 years ago, one of my best friends bought me the doll for Christmas, or my birthday, I can’t remember, cuz the dates are so close together.


Anyways… I have yet to undergo a circumstance where God was not real for me. It’s not like I prayed for a pony then got one, but I’ve always asked for guidance, and got some sort of answer, do I always follow the answer, no. I usually ignore it, but knowing the answer, lets me know he’s there.


I don’t really know why I started off with God and Santa Claus since I really wanted to talk about the truth I found out of the opinion of someone about me. It hurts. It always hurts. I really never understood why… and as I type this, I realize it’s human unpredictability. Perhaps it’s that they truly care; or don’t care enough, or that they care more about themselves. Probably the last one. Because let’s face it, Some people cannot handle the truth. So we would rather be lied to. We think we can handle anything, but we cannot. Some truths would make us go so crazy, that it could make us kill. Perhaps this is the predicament that my so called friend found themselves in. In their selfishness, to protect themselves, protecting the image of themselves to me; they went out of their way to deny me the truth.


Thinking about it makes me angry, but then haven’t we all lied to someone, just so that that person does not think that we are the “bad” person. Are we? Is this what they call “white lies?” It is the white lies that keep us going, is it not? Is God or Santa Claus our White LIES?

Safely walk to school without a sound

As I climbed into the bus and found my seat, the song I Think we are going to be friends – White Stripes, played on the radio. I thought to myself  “how perfect.”… So far it’s alright. I don’t actually feel board yet. Yet…
So instead of going straight to my blog to post this, I decided to type it in Microsoft word first. I am currently at my schools library, doing what I call “Pretending to do something productive” It’s what I would find myself doing when I would follow a friend into a computer lab, or when I was at work and didn’t really have anything worth doing. I will sit at a computer open up Microsoft work or any txt program really, and just start typing away. Sometimes I would just type “pretending to be doing something productive” over and over again. So that I don’t get caught I usually put on a crazy font that is hard to read from an over my shoulder distance, that way if someone asks, I say “oh it’s an article I am working on.” Now that I think about it, perhaps I shouldn’t be giving away this secret of mine. Especially if I plan on getting a job where the boss, is hopefully smart enough to search me on the internet. Thankfully I deleted my facebook, and tore apart my myspace. So really besides my email, this is really all that is left of me on the internet. But ehh, if they cannot appreciate a good blog; then I probably don’t want to work for them anyways.
So for 4 days out of the week I will be waking up super early, riding my bike in the cold, catching a bus to the main campus, learn about plants, have plenty of time on my hands to do homework and stuff… So far I have had a few complements on my hair, and one on my coat. My hair at the moment is turquoise with a bit more blue than green. I wanted just blue, but its turquoise… when I bleached the purple out my hair turned green with blond instead of just blond… also I have yet to find a light blue that sticks to my hair. All the blues I have tried (2 brands so far) don’t grab my hair, they act like shampoo and just sit on my hair but don’t grab my hair, therefor just rinsing out.
As for my coat, it buttons to the side of my chest, so one side of the collar is larger than the other, it’s pink, and has the texture of an old couch. It definitely looks like something an old lady would wear, but I love it. My boyfriend thinks it looks like cat skins, or cat throw up, I guess he doesn’t like how raggedy it is. So when I get a compliment on my coat, it makes me feel great cuz It’s PROOF that he is wrong about something. Anything that he is wrong about is usually a triumph for me, cuz he’s usually right about everything. Love him, but I love it when he’s wrong more….
Oh almost forgot to mention, My dad txted me again today. I hope it’s not because he thinks his txting is cheaper than talking, cuz when he gets his bill he’s probably ganna stop txting. By again, I mean oddly, he has been txting me, and I think my sister, once every other day, in the morning. He wishes us a good day, and love. So I don’t know what influenced him to contact us so often. Perhaps he read my blog and got a touch of guilt, or perhaps he also, like so many of us, fears his death is near, or that the end of the world is near, and since traveling is out of the question for him, perhaps this is his way of staying in touch with my sister and I… It’s still not enough. It helps, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate it, it makes me a bit happy to read from him, but it also makes me a little sad.
Ahh yes, the library is full, and a free computer is a limited resource especially on the first day of school. I feel like I’m getting away with something here. Like the cheap thrill of stealing sugar packets from the coffee shops, they are complimentary sugars, but it’s not like your drink actually needs sugar, so you grab some anyways, 3-5 packets and stuff them in your purse, or wallet…. Yes… sugar… but I guess I don’t have anything to write about anymore. So I am going to leave you now. The one thing you should never steal is colors. Leave the colors be. (im not talking about paint or crayons or art supplies) I’m talking about rainbows. Leave them alone they are perfect the way they are. Uniforms only depress people.

My Father

Two days ago I saw my fathers face for the first time in 17 years. That would be the length of time my parents have been divorced. It was 17 years ago that we left him in Mexico, like we had so many times before for the summer, but that time we never came back. My sister, who writes a blog in Spanish, shes very proud that she remembers how to speak & write it, so good at it in fact she teaches a class how to speak it; anyways she had sent me a txt with his picture. I first saw the picture & thought why is my sister sending me a picture of some old dude? the txt at the bottom said my dad had sent her the picture, I took a second look, I was speechless. For 5 minutes straight I didn't know what to say, I showed the picture to my bf, who did not seem to grasp the impact this was having on me, just said "huh" or something along those lines, anyways... I txted my sister back with "wow. he looks nothing like what I remember" she agreed.
I turn 27 today. I have yet to accomplish anything I thought that I would by the time I reached this age. I have always wondered if my life would have turned out differently if my dad was still in the picture. My picture my family, but for the last 17 years he has been a memory, and we talk only about 3 times a year, never really knowing what to say. For these 2 days & few hours I find myself starring at his picture. I turned it into one of the three wallpapers on my phone. Hes so old now. The top of his head is completely bald, his once bushy eyebrows are so thin he might as well draw them on. I hung out with my mother a few hours later, I showed her the picture, she never has a pleasant word to say about him. She was also surprised to see how Age had taken its toll on his face. I then looked at her & realized she was getting old too. She hadn't dyed her hair in more than a year, her grey hairs where at least 6 inches long. All the frowning she dose, gave her so many wrinkles.
Here I am 27 years old, I did manage to live on my own for a little while, I did get married, I had a shared art show, but a few people showed up just to see the things I created. Now I have needed so much help to get myself out of problems I created for myself, I had help getting divorced, Heck I had help leaving the guy. and now I'm not sure if I have accomplished anything else. I'm still in college. I dye my hair bright unusual colors, refusing my own natural hair color.
Yet here I am starring at the picture of my father.
He sent me a txt this morning, "Hola pequena como la estas pasando, feliz cumpleanos pasala bien un abraso y un beso, abre tu correo y contesta" (that was spanish).
I responded with "HOLA Papa estoy bien, gracias! Banjo me ensenio tu photo, que no tienes una de ti sonriando? Te extranio mucho"
He said "Yo tambien t extrano mucho t amo cuidate y cuida al gio besos"

I am disappointed by the shortness of the conversation. I cant blame him, after all, he's in Mexico, & txts are probably super expensive. I am sorry if this seemed depressing, or sarcastic I'm sure the next time I write about anything it will be more uplifting.
remember to breathe.