The Bookworm and the Cricket

 This is for my dear friend Richelle on her 21st birthday.

Happy 21st dear Richellephant!

The Bookworm's Birthday Promise

By Aarika Leigh Ormeo Alura 

 Once upon a time there was a bookworm...

and a tap-dancing cricket.

They were best friends.

-----

They shared a deep love for music,

for food...

for learning...

and, most of all, for the Lord!

 The cricket encouraged the bookworm to write for Jesus

while the bookworm urged the cricket to glorify God with her dancing.

 and even though they were VERY busy bugs...

they stayed in close contact, no matter how busy they were, over phone and facebook.

 the bookworm could feel God calling her. It had come time for her to grow up and initiate some serious change in her life. God was transforming her and she needed to follow His instructions.

It was hard because she knew that she would eventually be missing her best friend's 21st birthday. 

  But even though she couldn't be there, she made sure to celebrate from where she was.

 In a letter to her friend, she promised that

God would finish His work in her, changing her into a butterfly so that she could continue doing His work as a new bug...

and once that happened...

 she would fly home to be with her best friend and they would write and dance and glorify God together.

 The end.

Richelle Jean Navales was and is my best friend. She has taught me over and over again the importance of trusting and relying on God and His amazing, awe-inspiring plan. She reminds me that our timing is always off and God's timing is always perfect. That He has no limitations and has the power to create an amazing dancer in only four years and soften the heart of a control-freak in less than one.

She also reminds me that God is also a God that answers prayers. That He is a God that is ever faithful to us sinners who are so unfaithful and so doubtful and so miserably horrible to Him. He is a God that loves us and keeps us safe and does amazing things in this world like creating animals and babies and baby animals.

Richelle Jean is the definition of sweet and God-fearing and loyal and genuine. I thank God every day for her presence in my life and I pray that however long we may have with each other, however much time God may grant our friendship, may He always keep us accountable to one another and to Him. May He keep us from comparing ourselves to each other or to anyone else. May He remind us to encourage each other constantly and to turn to Him and praise Him for the time we have together.

Richelle Jean is also hilarious and ridiculous and awe-inspiring herself. Her love for God makes me want to love God more. Her burdens are my burdens and my burdens are hers. She is the best accountabili-buddy I could have ever asked for and the fact that God has given her another year to continue glorifying Him is nothing short of gracious and generous. Because Richelle Jean knows, better than anyone, how we deserve so much less than the love God gives us and yet He offers us everything instead.

I miss Richelle Jean every day.

I miss telling her stories and listening to her stories.

I miss her crazy phone calls.

I miss her infectious laugh.

I miss her dancing.

I miss her smile.

I miss her rebuke.

I miss her encouragement.

I miss her.

But I also know that it is part of God's plan for us to be apart right now and I trust God in His reasoning and His timing. I also praise Him for internet so that I may write this post for my one and only best friend.

I love you. Happy 21st birthday and I'm sorry that I can't be there. =]

Love from your biffers,

aareeka.

Eastern Samar State University

Don't ask me why ESSU is called Eastern Samar "State" University when clearly the Philippines is not divided into "states" but eh. They shall do what they shall do. 

Anyway, if you've been following my scattered thoughts and journal entry-blogs you'll know that the High School English Teacher position that I had originally secured fell through upon my arrival in the P.I. Which led to about two and a half weeks of what I like to call the "limbo state" until finally one of my relatives heard my sad sob story and spoke on my behalf to the local University: ESSU-Maydolong. The main campus is in Borongan, but ESSU-Maydolong is a branch located less than three miles from my house. Also, it happens to be the school that my cousins go to so...it was an obvious choice seeing as Joey, Kimberly and I could go to school together and I wouldn't feel so...alone. =] Add into the mix that a lot of my new friends from CYF are upperclassmen as well and I was pretty much set to be eased into my new life.

 

So, in comparison to ESSU-Main, which looks like a Cal State School, ESSU-Maydolong is a relatively small campus with a population of maybe 1,000 students. It was a high school the last time I was here, but since I've been away it changed from an Agricultural High School to a University offering degrees like: BE-ED: Elementary Education, BS-ED: Secondary Education, BS-IT: Information Technology, and BS-Criminology.

It's a relatively "simple" school, much like everything here in Eastern Samar. I first came to visit with Kimberly during her registration where she and many other students had to sit for close to half an hour filling out eight class schedules by hand, which were already assigned to all third year students (they don't pick their classes), to be distributed to different administrators on campus.

Back home we're so spoiled with all of our computer systems and everything is automated, as well as the vast array of classes to choose from. Students at ESSU don't choose, they are given the classes required to graduate, which...makes me wonder who has the better system seeing as most of the DO graduate in four years. (Save for the few who can't afford school, get married, or get pregnant and can't finish.)

 

 It's a nice change from the massiveness of a Cal State school. It almost feels like a private school and holds it's own quaint charm. For instance, every Friday, there are no "classes" but all students are required to come to campus for "classwork". Now, when I first heard this I thought Joey and Kimberly had to go to school to do homework stuff, but...no. It's Compulsory work. They go to campus to clean the campus. Sweep up the leaves, clean their classrooms, etc. etc. Granted, it's not all work, once they are done most students stay on campus with their friends, but if you don't go, it's a fifty peso fine.

Which reminds me...

The trees are mango trees, so towards the end of the school year there are a lot of mangoes to go around, though the students are discouraged from picking them off the tree (it's also a fifty peso fine). And the machine that keeps the grass trim and tended to? Carabao and goats.

Moreover, during actual classes in the week, the students don't actually move around from classroom to classroom, the teachers do. So, unlike a Cal State campus where you sometimes get stuck in a class with people from other majors that you don't know, all of my students spend all day together in the same classroom with their batch. They even have class officers and daily sweepers.

Imagine my surprise, the first day, when I said, "Alright, you're dismissed," only to be told, "Ma'am we stay here, in this classroom." I laughed it off, completely baffled and replied, "Oh, then I guess...I'm dismissed..." Yeah. A real comedian I am, though to be fair I was battling about five hundred butterflies in my stomach.

Which brings me to my students. I teach English courses: Effective Writing for BS-ED Second Year and Study and Thinking Skills for BS-IT First Year. Most of my students are around my age or...around the age of the CFBC Youth, so they are easy to get along, in addition to the fact that they are bred to be respectable and hospitable, but I won't deny that we were and...still are...a little more than fascinated with each other.

Recently, I spent some time with a few of my BS-ED students outside of class and learned that when I first walked in they all thought I was one of them. They all assumed that I would take a seat beside them and silently wait for the teacher. They watched me in complete surprise head over to the podium and proceed to nervously meander through all of the things in my bag. I was their teacher. I was the "Ma'am".

Currently I'm writing a narrative of that first experience, but I praise God for my 2nd year class. They are very different than my 1st years and remind me of home. They remind me of CFBC and the youth.

 

(I'm missing maybe ten of them in this picture, but overall they are an incredibly welcoming class.)

My 1st years are a little different. They can be successfully separated into two groups: the more vocal and more reserved. I have a lot of male students are very quick to compliment. The fact that I am twenty-two and a US citizen adds to my appeal of course, but they all listen during lecture and all participate to the best of their abilities.

I think the difficulty with this class is that, I wasn't their teacher on the first day of classes. I spent Monday, June 4 on a van to Borongan to meet with the President of the ESSU schools and get proper clearance to be taken on as a teacher. I came to them on Wednesday after they had already Ma'am Gemma and, because I hadn't been given their syllabus yet, we were a standstill haha. Every day it gets better, though sometimes I feel like there is only so much i can tell them. I learn more and more from their writing, as well as who does and doesn't do the work, but....even if they underestimate me now, they won't underestimate me once the semester ends. I remember who leaves class and who doesn't come back. I remember who pushes off the work to someone else. I know. I may be young, but I'm not stupid. Haha.

Overall, teaching is one of those experiences where you go into it with a game plan, just to throw it out the window. And yet, I do enjoy it thoroughly. There is something to be said about being this kind of observer. I don't think they realize how much I learn from them and how...it's, hopefully, just as much as they learn from me.

ESSU-Maydolong has never had a volunteer teacher before. So, I think it's safe to bet that this will be something my students remember. I can only hope that they'll remember more than the novelty of a teacher that was younger than them, or a teacher that was from California. I hope that they remember me and everything I tell them about writing and reading and understanding the English language. I pray that God uses me to do more than just lecture. I want to teach. That's why I'm here. So, let's hope and pray that I do God proud and make a lasting impression. =]

I'll hopefully be able to blog more within the next few days. In addition to introducing my new cousins and friends, there are a lot of school events and town events that I'm looking forward to writing on. For instance: The ESSU-Maydolong Founder's Day Anniversary and the impending Intramurals. We don't have stuff like this back home...but man...it should have a come back. Haha

Until next time.

-Aarika

"It was the end of a decade, but the start of an age”

[.my.corner.]

She shut her eyes and let the music take her, the words wrapping around and hugging her to them until she swore she could feel their warmth throughout her entire body. She swayed along with the music, letting it guide her movement like puppet strings, but she didn't feel out of control. No. She felt free. Ready to fly as she stretched her arms out wide and let the melody carry her spirit above her body, into the air.

"Long, long live the walls we crashed through
How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you
I was screaming long live all the magic we made
And bring on all the pretenders
I'm not afraid

Singing, long live all the mountains we moved
I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you
I was screaming long live the look on your face
And bring on all the pretenders
One day we will be remembered"

heck. freakin'. yeah.

Hello Maui!

just a hop, skip, and a jump away from our hotel room.
Lord, please let this trip be an avenue of inspiration, because You are everywhere.

Summer days

in thinking over the past month or so since school ended

I've realized that a LOT has happened.

1. I have gone through a plethora of novels,

some good, some sad, some enlightening

some that showed me that a writer can be anyone and everyone

and that is the reason why i do what i do.

2. i've finished directing another musical,

which taught me more about patience and discernment than the last two combined

3. i've spent a lot of time by myself and with my thoughts.

God has been asking me to re-evaluate myself in everything from:

my relationship with my family to my relationship with my church family

my career goals, my life goals, my ministry goals...

and let's just say I've had a lot on my mind.

4. i've been able to spend a lot of time with family.

Especially these last few weeks.

My cousin Jac flew in from Texas last Tuesday and we were all reunited!

I praise God for the opportunity to bond and form a relationship with my cousin.

For his provision of time off work and free time to spend with her and my family.

I praise Him for the ability to talk to her and relate to her

and the capacity to love her as more than just blood,

but as a person who is praying for her salvation.

Also, my family from New Jersey AND the Philippines flew in

and after a much loved outing to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

the entire Ormeo clan was present at the Alura home for a full day of fellowship, eating, swimming, screaming, and more eating.

5. And lastly, I've really got to spend some time with God,

praying and trying to figure out where to go from here.

Most importantly, God has been waiting for me to turn to Him and say,

"Lord, I don't know where I am. I need you to lead me and I need you to stop me from trying to be a backseat driver."

So that's what I've been trying to do. Be more honest, be a better listener, be a better servant, and be a better me. I've had a lot of things building within me for the past year and I think some well spent time in prayer has been needed. Lord, keep the good hits coming and the bad ones going, cause i do not want to end this summer having learned nothing.

free write experiment

Chapter 1: Blank Page

I sat staring at the screen for what felt like days, waiting for inspiration to hit me like an arrow to the heart or the catchy lyrics of a song. I blew my bangs from the front of my face and slumped in my chair, turning my head side to side so as to crack my neck. I had already done that exact routine six times in the last hour and couldn't help the sigh. I shook my head and leaned back, my fingers still poised on the keys. They were itching to type, everything. Anything. I just couldn't decide on anything to start with.

What is inspiration? I finally released onto the keys. The moment of decision being more of an impulse than an actual decision. What inspires me?

I stared at the blinking line on the screen, you know, the one that seemingly spits out the words from inside your brain onto the page, and became frustrated with it. I almost wished it would just spit out everything going on in my brain so that I didn't have sift through the array of to-do lists, personal rebukes, and rabbit trails of story lines that were competing for my attention.

Things. I answered my earlier question, giving it too line breaks of space between the first two questions. Things inspire me.

I decided finally that enough was enough and to just let it all spill onto the page. Maybe if I just wrote, something would come to its senses out of my nonsense. It was worth a try at least right?

"Okay," I sighed. "Here it goes."

It seems like such a vague answer to give and not like one an aspiring writer should accept as answer because...we're all supposed to be poetic in some way right? Whether it be with vivid details or spare and poignant truths, the quality of prose should always factor into every form of communication between a writer and the world.

But as is stands that's all I can really give in a nutshell. Things. Things inspire me. If I must expound then here: a LOT of different things inspire me and they aren't always the same all the time.

In fact, one day a blue bird singing outside my window can inspire a poem while the next it can only inspire me to shut the window. See? It's all relative.

Sure you can argue it's still "inspiration" but really then, that's just a trick of the language. You're dealing with some intense assertions similar to that of Jacques Derrida whom, trust me, you do not want to assert lightly without knowing what he's claiming (that is if you can figure it out).

What is inspiration? What inspires me?

My family inspires me all the time. They are one of the few "things" that refuse to switch out of my inspiration box. My family and their dedication to their work, their ministry, each other. My family inspires me to be more than I am, which, when I think about it is less like me and more like Christ.

My friends inspire me in the same way. Only they inspire me to believe in myself. They remind me of how God made me the way I am for a purpose. They inspire me to continually search for that purpose.

Art inspires me. All forms of art whether it be dance or acting or music. Art inspires me by motivating me. I want my mark to be on this world just like all that art has marked itself in my world.

Lastly, firstly, totally...God inspires me.

God inspires me in a different sense of the word. J.L. Austin talks about "performative utterances" when you speak and actually fulfill an action in speaking. God does that for me. He actually inspires me. He moves me. He doesn't just "cause" me to move. He moves me.

And I think, with that reality, the reality that God has that kind of power to fulfill something in me, with me, for me, I am inspired to never stop.

Looking down at the screen I read over the words that had spilled out of me. Stopping at times to click between the lines and move to change something. To make it more poetic. More poignant. More spare. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't change the truth. And how do you embellish the truth without skewing it just a little?

So stopped and sat back. Reading the words, knowing that they weren't perfect, they weren't going to be everyone's cup of tea. But knowing they were mine and regardless of the fact that I knew I could be more poetic, more..."writer-like". I couldn't be more me.

So with one more sigh, I pulled back, saved the doc and closed the screen, swiveling around in my chair to look out the window.

A blue bird sat perched on the branch just outside, silent and watching me while I waited for it to sing.

Elizabeth Gilbert on God

"I want God to play in my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on the water."

"Look for God. Look for God like a man with his head on fire looks for water."

"There is a reason they call God a presence - because God is right here, right now. In the present is the only place to find Him, and now is the only time."

"Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark. If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be... a prudent insurance policy."

“God is an experience of supreme love.”

What do I want?

5. to travel. to see the world and broaden my horizons

4. to pursue a dream wholeheartedly

3. to make it on my own

2. to hear God speak

1. to do God's will

I reassert that Stephen King is both inhuman and a genius

"A short story is a different thing all together - a short story is like a kiss in the dark from a stranger."

So, if you haven't heard yet, I'm trying to be a writer. Okay. let's scratch that. I am "aspiring" to be a writer. And so, my last few years here at CSUSB have been chock full of fiction and literature classes that give me the suitable deadlines I need to give birth to some of my most painfully pushed out work. It also has allowed me to produce some my best. (in my opinion of course) And so, in my attempt to write another story, this time focused in on the "Ghost Story" genre, I look to one of the most creatively sick geniuses this world has to offer. Mr. Stephen King, who elevated himself to a 100 on my awesome scale of 1 - 10 (100 because he has already well surpassed the highest standard) with this comment:

"Both Rowling and Meyer, they're speaking directly to young people. ... The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephanie Meyer can't write worth a darn. She's not very good."

- Stephen King

What can I say? The man knows his stuff. And if God can bless me with at least a fraction of his good fortune. I might just be able to fulfill my life long dream after all.

Eye on the prize

Sarah Dessen is such an inspiration. Just like JK Rowling, she's one of the authors that reminded me and continues to remind me, the power of stories. I hope one day I can do what she does.

Words from Lauren F. Winner

Matthew 6:9-13
"Our Father, who art in heaven,
hallowed by thy name.
Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done,
on earth as it is in heaven
Give us this day our daily bread
And forgive us our trespasses,
as weforgive those who trespass against us
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.
For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, for ever and ever
Amen"

There was much in the prayer that I didn't understand. I didn't know that will was a noun, I only knew it as a verb, so my grammatical reading of the second line of the Lord's Prayer -- "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done" -- was a little off. I thought "will be done" the verb so "Thy", the possessive pronoun, must be the subject. And I prayed fervently that Thy would be done.

Sometimes in church I think about that still. I think maybe that is what we should be praying for, not just God's will be done, but that everything that is God's, everything that is His, everything that is Thy, will be done. Yours be done, I chant in my head. Yours. Yours. Yours. Everything that is Yours.

- girl meets GOD pg. 147-168

Currently Reading:

I've always been a big romantic softy at heart, loving stories of the classic girl meets boy, boy loves girl genre. I find that no matter who the characters are, what the situation is, or how it ends. Even if I've heard/read the story a million times... it never gets old.

But it wasn't until I was older that I was able to dive in and truly appreciate the one love story that all other love stories mirror. The single greatest written love affair in the entire universe, the one that directly connects the reader to the Author, because the text IS a love letter to the reader from the Author.

The Bible. God to me. God to you. And when I stumbled upon Lauren Winner's book "Girl meets GOD", actually began reading it out of the piles of books that I have precariously been casting away in favor of other activities, that I was reminded again of who God is.

Girl meets God is a recount of Lauren F. Winner's own personal story. How she came from being a very faithful and very active Orthodox Jew to a Christian.

I don't know what I was expecting when I opened the book; maybe a beautiful and inspiring story of how the pull of God's love and the gift of Jesus ached within her or maybe an unfavorable encounter within the Jewish religion. But whatever it was, I didn't get it.

Not in the way I thought at least.

Winner's book thus far has been enlightening, not because her story has been especially unique, but because it is especially... relatable.

for instance:

"Evangelizing, if it means handing out tracts, is not something I do. I don't ever casually swing my arm around a friend's shoulders, look meaningfully into her eyes, and ask, 'Susie, if you were hit by a bus tomorrow, would you go to Heaven?' When I come face-to-face with Jesus' commission to the disciples--go and spread the word around the world--I wince, for I know I am not even spreading it around Morningside Heights.

I take comfort in the church's current affection for what is politely called 'lifestyle evangelism.' Being a lifestyle evangelist doesn't require handing out tracts; it just requires living a good, God-fearing, Gospel-exuding life. I like to assume that most people know I am a Christian and when they see that I am sometimes joyful and sometimes peaceful when they are not, they will want to know my secret."

Upon reading this I felt like she was quoting straight from my mind. I, myself, have always had trouble with being particularly bold in the face of man. I've been rebuffed and snubbed so many times by some of my closest friends that the thought of being rebuffed by acquaintances or strangers is not particularly appetizing. But I do feel guilty sometimes. I feel sad for the missed opportunities that pile up in my mind and I strive to correct this, knowing that God calls us to make disciples of all nations.

But it is hard. I tend to be more of the nurturer rather than the instigator but... the point is Lauren Winner took the words right out of my mouth.

"I like to assume that most people know I am a Christian and when they see that I am sometimes joyful and sometimes peaceful when they are not, they will want to know my secret."

In short, Lauren Winner's novel, thus far for me, has been speaking to me. Like God is using her to speak directly to me. And man He's got a lot to say.

I've never thought that my story, my testimony is one of those whirlwind, life-changing stories that, by just being shared, can touch people.

It's a common story. Girl from a God-fearing home grew up rebelling God at every angle with a self-righteous cover, until she couldn't do it anymore and God broke down the wall that she was putting up to block Him so that He could take her into His arms and call her His own.

That's it. Poetically said, but there are no rising action subplots of drugs, teenage pregnancies, or sex. And there are no falling action resolutions of rehab, abortions, and STD's. I've led a relatively normal life where it's just been me, trying to keep myself from turning on the straight and narrow and getting distracted. It's just me trying to let go of all control. It's just me trying to give it all to God.

And Lauren Winner is just like me. Her story has showed me that going to hell and back doesn't mean going through the streets and landing in the gutter (at least not for me). Going to hell and back just means going away from God and then coming back. That's it.

And with that truth. I'm so glad that it never gets old.

Distractions

So,

last night I made my way to the biffer's home so that we could trek our way together out to Irvine. The home turf of a sister in Christ as well as the MTV made famous hip hop "crew" Kaba Modern.

UC Irvine's local celebrity dance fratority...er. crew. =P

Anyway, it was all really for Richelle Jeans, so that she could get a sense of what an audition for a crew would look like and also so she could support some of the friends she made in the process of doing dance workshops with Kaba.

It was very interesting for me, a bonafide "not dancer" to get a look into this world that has taken my BFF by the heart and pulled her in. But overall, I came out with one important lesson.

You gotta be confident in yourself and your skill.

Granted there were some who were more "skilled" than others but the fact that so many of them went in, guns blazing, and performing their hearts out...well...it was inspiring.

Made me remember just how lackluster I've been in my own journey toward what has always been my ultimate goal: The Best-Seller's list.

Perhaps it's because the literary world is not as flashy as the dance world or as blatantly soul pouring...but the rules still apply.

Art is art. And if I got it in my heart, then I gotta lay it all on the floor and just go for it.

A few years ago, my response when people would say "it's hard to get published" or "it's so competitive in that field, are you sure you can be that cut throat?" was to smile and shrug saying that I wasn't worried about it.

I had this confidence that THIS is what God was calling me to do and no one could shake me. It would happen.

But that was a few years ago.

And now, over 100 units and three workshop classes later, with graduation within reach that confidence is not what it used to be.

I think somewhere along the line, after countless and countless of doubtful looks, attempts to play devil's advocate, and awkward tensions from the admission of my major, it started to get to me.

Even the reality of my professors saying, "Be prepared to have a different career and writing on the side, because the business is hard, especially now."

Was enough to shake me and make me question what exactly is the practical choice for me. *sigh* But even with all of that "practical" talk I can't shake the feeling that if I choose to change avenues now I'll sorely regret it later on. I'll regret not believing in myself enough to push through.

But that means now, I gotta stay focused. I gotta stop getting distracted and letting other things around me pull me off the road. I gotta stop moving so fast and just take a moment to figure out what NEEDS to be done NOW at THIS moment and leave all the extra stuff for my extra time.

Moreover, I need to remember that God is not amazing because He is a practical God, He is amazing because He is a miraculous God. And in the midst of all this confusion and struggle to focus, I have to focus on His voice only and keep pressing forward. Block out all else and just listen to Him.

Pray for that. Because I really really REALLY need it.

cause sometimes, tumblr just doesn't "blog" right.

I find myself weary.

Exhausted by the racing of my mind
to the point where I have begun to veer in different directions.

Have I taken on too much?
Perhaps loaded myself more than I should have?
Well, I should think not,
only because there is very little difference
in my load from them and my load now.

Maybe it's all simply catching up to me?
That, at this moment in time,
I have become too tired to carry on
and my speed has reduced.

Reduced enough to leave me at the mercy
Of my failings?

Strange that it happen now,
In the days where I need to be at my best.
It's the final--push--
the final countdown--
the final lap...

But perhaps there is a reason for that.
Perhaps it is time to become even more serious.
There is no going back from here
therefore I've got to decide how I want to finish.

Strong.
Fighting.
With everything I've got.

Or slow.
Steady.
And nonchalant.

Hm. Doesn't seem like a hard decision...
until you're faced with the crossroad
and the easier way seems to be a road that moves for you.

English 303B: Character sketch

Professor Luck:
"I want you to write a passage about someone you know, create a character sketch of that person that truly shows rather than tells the character of this person. Be specific. This is one of the key things that fiction writers use, and when you're good at it, it really can make or break a piece."

~~~~~

We were driving to church in her beloved, beat up car, trading stories from the past week. I told her about the 3 pages I wrote then tossed out, while she rallied back with the video she took of herself dancing, but wasn't going to put up online.

"Why not?" I asked her. "I'm sure it's good."

"Psh." She scoffed, shaking her head. "No way girlfriend! Trust. It's just me jumping around like a fool. No one wants to see that!"

She parked her car in the empty lot and sat back in her chair, letting the engine and radio run below our conversation like elevator music. Neither of us moved to leave, instead finding solace to just sit in silence before I turned to her and sighed. "You're crazy wildcat." I told her. "What are you afraid of?"

She laughed out loud and shook her head at me, the smile taking over her entire face. "No, you're crazy 'wildcat'! Believe me, it's just nothing post worthy."

I rolled my eyes. "You gotta get over it man. You're good! Just own it!"

But she only laughed again, as if my confidence in her was completely ridiculous. She shook her head as she giggled and sighed melodramatically. "Just drop it man. I'll do it when I've got something good, don't you--AHHHH!"

The scream came so suddenly that I couldn't stop the laugh that tumbled from my lips. "What?!" I cried out but she only leaned forward and turned up the volume of her radio, screaming out, "I LOVE THIS SONG!!" She began to sway from side to side, letting the music take over her mood. She closed her eyes as she mouthed along with the words of the singer and gestured wildly with her hands creating spirals and shapes in the air as she completely let go to the song.

I sat back and shook my head, feeling my own body start to sway as the song continued. But my eyes stayed glued to her as she continued moving.

I had to smile because she looked so happy.

~~~~~

Dedicated and written for the unforgettable bestie that has blessed me:
RJuice/RJeans/RJeanius/RJeezy/Richelle

I believe in you! Just go out there and BE HAPPY!


-aarika

God knows what I need.

“Writing is a form of personal freedom. It frees us from the mass identity we see in the making all around us. In the end, writers will write not to be outlaw heroes of some underculture but mainly to save themselves, to survive as individuals.”
Don DeLillo

In the last few months I have dreamt up dozens of different concepts for music videos, dance skits, dramatic monologues, and even movies. I've pictured in my head nearly a hundred different stories with complex character motivations, interactions, shortcomings, and triumphs.

But I haven't been writing.

And when I say that, I mean simply that, the world has become so much bigger than my fiction. In discovering all of these new creative outlets my writing is the one that has been suffering because, like anything in life that is steady and dependable, when brought up against a new shiny adventure it's easy to push dependable aside. To make time for the new and exciting and reason that the rest will always be there.

But that has terrified me.

Despite the fact that my mind was completely blown away by all of the different ways I discovered to express myself and how I have wanted nothing more than to just create and dedicate and motivate. *sigh* (which is what I still want)

As my actual writing...I have found myself stagnant. Blocked. Backed up.

And it hurts. It seriously pains me because I just feel bloated and overwhelmed. I want to write but every time I've sat down to just pour it all out I've felt like there's a lid on me. Like, I'm dripping all over the place but am unable to open myself up.

It's been daunting, especially with this quarter and the reminder that I have very little time left. Graduation is looking to be about a year away. What will I have to show at the end of it besides my degree?

But then....today I was reminded of God's goodness. Today reminded me of everything I've ever wanted and things have changed, which is CRAZY because I was just praying about this last night. I started this post last night.

So let me explain:

I've always been a bit of a freak. Harry Potter Freak, Fanfiction Freak, Read Or Die OVA Freak.

yeah. I know.

But, I am also one of the BIGGEST High School Musical Freaks ever. hahaha. I would say that it's embarrassing to admit, but....it's really not. I'm loud, I'm proud. And allowed, so don't hate. haha

Anyway, I was driving home from work today when the HSM 3 Finale song came on in my car (because I burned it on a CD). This song is forever one of my favorites because it reminds me of how that movie made me feel, but lately I've skipped it over it a couple times, or just turned my music off because I've been upset. Well not today.

This is what stuck out to me:

"Now we've finally realized, who we are it just took some time
We had to live and to learn, to see the truth!
(Learn to see the truth)
Nothing's ever impossible, into the future we all free fall
but forever we'll always have high school!

High School Musical, who says we have to let it go
It's the best part we've ever known, step into the future but hold on to
High School Musical, let's celebrate where we've come from

All together, makes it better
Memories that last forever
I want the rest of my life
to feel just like a, HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL!"

Okay, so, let's get something straight: I don't really miss my high school. I had a lot of fun, sure I can get nostalgic sometimes, but I know that high school belongs in my past. That's not what this song is talking about. To me, it's not literally about wanting to keep your mindset on high school forever or to never let go of it entirely, because...you have to at some point.

No, to me, this song reminded me of everything that I love about the High School Musical Trilogy.

I love the way it makes me feel. I love the message that comes across. The idea of how, when growing up, you are constantly at battle with stereotypes and the unknown of the future as well as all of the other things that can change your world forever when you're growing up. But High School Musical has always been about staying true to yourself. Not letting anyone define you or change you without your permission and most importantly that, when you want something you fight for it. When you love something and you're not sure how to fit it in your life, you make it work. It's not about making the right decision it's about making a good one.

And I realized that when it came to my writing I was letting myself get changed. I was looking at my work with such a critical eye that I was afraid to write things down. Nothing ever looked good enough and that's because it wasn't about being good enough for me, but for the rest of the world. I have wanted to be a published author since I was six years old. The past two years have really set in stone how HARD that is. How difficult the road is, and I got intimidated.

The reason why all of my other creative projects have been flourishing? It's because I did all of that out of love and pure uncompromising abandon. My writing hasn't been that way in a while and I need to get back to my basics. Because I still believe that this is what I'm meant to do. This is how I want to contribute and how I am going to contribute to this world.

And who cares if it's hard? Who cares if it's intimidating, I love writing. And I love my stories. Sure, there will always be people who will look at them and toss them aside, but what matters is what I think. If I love them, If I believe in them, then I should fight for them and be just as uncompromising.

"I want the rest of my life to feel just like my High School Musical"

Meaning? I want to spend the rest of my life feeling good about my work and knowing that it is good, it is centered, and it is me.