Category: Junior Literary

So for this week’s blog there were a couple things that I wanted to talk about. Trying to think of just one had always been something that had proved difficult for me. I could go a more grounded route and talk about how stressed I am about the ACT, or the easier decision of talking about horror games. But I think I have been focusing so much on things that make me negatively anxious, I would say that it is about time to talk about something that made me anxious in a good way. Horror games, or more specifically, one specific creator of horror games, that being puppet combo. So I’m thinking (or at least hoping) that a few of you know what puppet combo games are, but if not I am going to give a short summary. So puppet combo is an indie horror video game creator/producer who has come out with a number of various games in the past year. However, there is something special about this company that puts them apart from others. That being their modern adaptation to a relatively retro style of graphics.

Examples of the graphics:

These graphics are from only three of the various games that puppet combo has come out with.

The first being from their game “bloodwash” the second from a game called “feed me Billy” and finally from a game titled “Murder House” these aren’t just three random games; however, these are among their most popular and successful games. These graphics that are shown aren’t a result of a poor budget or a lackluster producing/coding team, but an intentional choice on the developers’ behalf. This retro and minimalistic style of graphics are meant to induce feelings of not only nostalgia but feelings of fear as well. But what really makes this game so scary is their incredible sound design and use of volume in the games themselves, having not only just loud noises, but an assortment of different terrifying tracks that have been created by developers. And while this is an indie game developing company, this has seen a large amount if success as well as traction, not just from the general audience, but from other small game developers as well, as a result these smaller companies have created a number of different games, one of my favorite games are actually a part of that category. That being a series called fears to fathom.

Images from different additions to the game:

What makes this game unique is that the stories are not created by writers or developers but found off of old subreddits and chat boards on reddit where the user explains their scary experience and developers reach out to them, wishing to turn it into a game. I think that these types of games are so incredible because it proves that you do not need much to create a horrifying environment, and a good horror game.

I should start off by mentioning that during the lockdown, my brother and I got bikes for easter. Mine was baby blue and his was black with orange accents.

This story starts out in the summer of 2020. My best friend, Ava, had come over like she usually did and we were bored. I thought back to this creek at the end of the street and asked if she wanted to go there. She said yes. The only problem was that it was too far to walk. We would have to drive there or ride bikes there. Neither of us could drive and my mom was busy so we couldn’t drive there. We would have rode mine and my brother’s bike there except Ava was too short for my brother’s bike. He was 6’2” and Ava was I think 5’6”. After admitting defeat, I came up with a “brilliant” plan. I had my brother’s old skateboard, my bike, and a cardboard box. (Trust the process). Next, all I needed was some duct tape and rope. (TRUST. THE. PROCESS.). I knew I had some duck tape. I always had duck tape. Don’t ask me why I had a box because I’m not going to tell you (cardboard box house). Next all I needed to get was some rope. I wasn’t sure if we had any rope. I looked through my junk drawer in my room because I usually had some rope laying around. Don’t ask why (I was obsessed with rope when I was little). I didn’t find any rope in my junk drawer so I went to my dads tool supplies which we kept outside. I thought for sure he would have some rope. He didn’t. I ended up settling for some fluffy string I had. No idea why I had it (seriously though, idk man). After I brought back all of the supplies to where Ava was, on the front porch, I got to work. I took the box and duck taped it to the skateboard. Next I tied the skateboard to my bike. (I think you see where this is going.) Next, I took my beautiful creation to the street. Ava got in the box, I got on my bike and started pedaling. The only thing I didn’t account for was when I turned my bike, Ava didn’t. We got about ten feet from where we started before I kept going straight and Ava started tilting to the right. She ended up running into the neighbors red minivan. It was really funny. I was laughing so hard I fell off my bike. I think it’s safe to say we didn’t make it to the creek that day.

Note to those of you who are reading this, don’t be stupid like Ava and me, and crash into your neighbor’s car. Think things through and wear a helmet.

 

P.S. Ava, if you’re reading this, I’m glad you’re the one who crashed, not me 🙂

 

The idea for this type of blog post has come to me, but I’ve always pushed it aside. I think a part of me thought I might be making a big deal out of nothing. However, this blog is about a part of my identity, and after talking with a friend, I realized just how much I have to say. This blog is about my experiences being aromantic: a romantic orientation meaning that I don’t fall in romantic love. Please keep in mind that there are far different experiences other aromantic people have- I do not speak for everyone in the community, I’m merely one person. I hope this post can help spread awareness, and maybe help someone.

The aromantic pride flag

 

Discovery and Representation

For a long time, I didn’t know what I was. I wanted a label, but all I knew was that I wasn’t straight. It felt wrong to be called straight. I had no idea how to describe what I was, or that being aromantic was a thing- aromantic representation runs extremely thin, and aromantic expression in media is even thinner. Even now, I only find either of those two things when I’m searching for it. There was nothing in my daily life to bring the aromantic label to light.

I tried many different labels. 

“I don’t like men- does that make me a lesbian? Am I lesbian? Or maybe I’m pansexual- maybe I can love everyone, and that makes it harder to find love. Maybe I’m bisexual, and I just haven’t found the right one.”

All of them felt wrong to me, but it was all I had. I had to be something, right? I think the longest label I chose was pansexual, but I distinctly remember being uncomfortable with it.

I don’t remember the video, but I found the word aromantic in a youtube comment. I looked up the word and studied its definition. For me, it was like someone clicked on a light, flushing away the chattering shadows of, “Am I? Am? Am I? Am I?” here, in this label, I found something that felt right. Comfortable, like a reassuring blanket. I found tales of experiences similar to my own, and things started making so much more sense. “Aromantic. That’s me! I am aromantic!” I was lucky to have such an experience.

There was a phase after that, after I came out to my friends, where I referenced being aromantic so much. I was consuming everything I could about it, I was so happy.

But, outside of the aromantic community, there was barely anything that represented being aromantic. Even in the LGBTQ+ community itself, there wasn’t a whole lot. (there’s more there now, thankfully.) The ace-specs know the term much better, but it still makes me feel unknown. Off the top of my head, I can only think of one character in large media that’s obviously aromantic,  Kusuo Saiki, (king) and he’s aromantic-asexual. That’s very valid, shout out to all the aro-aces, the aces, everyone else on the spectrum. I love that there’s at least some representation for the community. However, throughout indie media and larger media, I’ve realized there’s so much more ace representation, and then less but still more, aro-ace representation than only aro representation. I want representation for everyone, but by everyone I mean everyone. If there was more aromantic characters in media, people would better understand what it means to be aromantic, and what comes with it. You can be aromantic but not asexual, you can be asexual but not aromantic, you can be both, you can be other things on the spectrum. (Demiromantic, aegosexual, etc.) If there was more representation, it would make coming out so much easier. It’s hard explain something people know nothing about, and it’s hard to find spaces where you feel welcome. Even in the LGBTQ+ community itself, there’s still people who don’t understand being aromantic, pity being aromantic, or try to wipe it off the radar. Which actually brings me to my next point…

The Pitying of The Aromantic Community

My friend theorized that the reason there’s so little aro representation is because being single is seen as unfulfilling and saddening. In reality, many people, even outside of the aromantic community, don’t need to be in a romantic relationship to be happy or fulfilled. There are other forms of love, and for me, romantic love is less fulfilling than platonic love. Platonic love is the type of love you have with friends and family, and it can be just as strong as romantic love, just… not. You can confide in, cuddle with, and spend half of your time with a platonic friend. Strong bonds aren’t always romantic.

In the past, I dated someone for maybe a year. He was of the opposite gender. He asked me out, and I didn’t know how to respond. I liked spending time with him, and he was a boy, so that meant I liked him, right? I said yes.

When I say nothing changed for me in the relationship, I mean nothing changed. He called me his girlfriend, he got me gifts, we went on dates, and it was fun! But I didn’t realize that all I was feeling was just friendship. There was no change in feelings on my side. Going on dates and getting gifts was because I wanted to spend time with him and thought that was how relationships worked. I feel bad thinking back on it; it feels like I was deceiving him unknowingly. It feels so obvious looking back on it, too. I don’t think the reaction to someone telling you “I think I have a crush on your boyfriend…” is, “Oh. Okay?” And I don’t think you’re supposed to feel weird and anxious saying your boyfriend is your boyfriend. 

I did not see him as my boyfriend,  I saw him as a boy friend, and I didn’t know. 

The time I spend with my friends  as friends feels so much more fulfilling than any time with my ex-boyfriend as a romantic partner. Movie dates where I’m wondering how to make romantic  relationships work cannot compare to giggling with friends at the back of a comic-con. Those romantic “I love you”’s only filled me with discomfort I tried to deny, while my heart blooms when me and my friends tell each other “I love you guys,” platonically.

I am not sad being unable to feel romantic love. What does make me sad is when people say, “You don’t fall in love? I’m so sorry. That sounds horrible.” What does make me sad is when people frame it like I’m missing out on some great experience. Romantic relationships may be great for them, but they aren’t great for me. What does make me sad is when people think being aromantic means I’m emotionless, and unable to feel empathy or any type of love. 

The Denial of the Aromantic Community’s Existence

I know it can be hard to comprehend, especially when someone doesn’t know the term. Some people need an explanation, and I’m happy to provide them with that. Some people still don’t respect it, though, and some people completely deny its existence. So many people deny its existence.

“You’ll find the right person one day.”

“You just need more time!”

“You’re young, it just hasn’t happened yet.”

Yes, I’m young. Maybe one day I’ll realize I’m not aromantic and change my label, which is completely fine. But right now I feel aromantic, belong in this label, and don’t ever see it changing in the future. the most tiring things to hear are variants of the quotes above. They’re so invalidating. Who even is the ‘right person?’ What if the right person is one of my friends? In that case, what if I’ve already found them? It feels like I’ve already found the right person in my friends, as friends.

This experience isn’t exclusive to me. Many other aromantics get told the same thing. There are so, so many of us, and despite what others say, we exist. We are valid.

My Opinion on Romance

Because I’m aromantic, most people assume I don’t like romance, such as in movies or books or other couples in real life. While it’s very real for a aromantic person to be repulsed by all romance (on a spectrum),  personally, I adore romance! I really love fictional ships, and other people being together doesn’t bother me. Reading good, cute romance makes me elated. Though, I have to admit- the way people describe romance sounds horrifying sometimes. Like, you think about one person all of the time and feel horribly sad when they’re gone? You dream about that person and can’t help but admire them silently, hoping your intense feelings are returned? You get into relationships in high school, knowing there’s a very slim chance they’ll lead anywhere more? Don’t even get me started on relationship drama. Why is there so much relationship drama?!

I could never. Great for all the romantics out there, but also man. I am glad I don’t have to deal with that. I’m fine with my lovey-dovey fanfiction and media. 

End

If you got this far, then yay! This post was longer than I realized while writing it. I hope you learned new things, and if you have any questions, I have no problem answering. Have a nice day!

 

So random was like the daughter show of another show titled, “Sonny with a Chance”.  I frequently compare so random to if there was a Saturday night Live geared specifically to teens. The show consisted of multiple sketches preformed in front of a live audience often combined with musical guests and performances. The show ran for about a year 2011-2012. It was and still is one of my favorite Disney shows and a comfort show for me. 

 

#1: The Real Princesses of New Jersey 

I feel like this one is pretty self-explanatory, it was meant to be a parody of the Real Housewives which makes it funnier looking back but when I was little, I just thought it was really silly. 

#2: Rufus: At the Movies(You’re not gonna believe this) 

This was the sequel to another sketch, so seeing the teachers on a date after previous tension was kind of satisfying. I also just find the premise of a kid full of ridiculous excuses that are actually true, and no one believes him until the end very funny.

#3: The I’m Gonna Marry Zack Feldman Show!!

Basically, a delusion girl convinced she’s going to marry her middle school crush. It was just very funny, her hype around this whole date for it only to have been a 2-minute conversation that ended in her puking. 

#4: Bedazzle-zit 

This one is a parody of commercial for a machine that bedazzles your acne, to hide it. Something about the corny over the top acting and how violent the machine is that makes this especially funny.

#5: Janice’s Backup Singers 

This sketch follows an unpopular girl whose mom hired back dancers to follow her around school to make her more popular, and craziness ensues. I like this one because the random British accents one of the male students adopts randomly and the songs the backup dancers sing are so catchy. 

#6: M.C Grammar 

In this sketch two men are in the middle of a rap battle to which they are interrupted by M.C Grammar who proceeds to correct and educate them are the parts of speech. This one is in song form, and to be completely honest it’s just catchy. Especially the chorus which, “Cause if you wanna graduate you gotta know how to conjugate// And if you wanna find a mate you gotta know how to puncuate.”

#7: Braggy Benson 

This sketch follows a boy who appears to be trying make friends, they seem getting along until Benson begins to “flex” but the things he’s bragging about are objectively negative, such as getting rejected by a popular girl and failing a test, he does this repeatedly till he scares them away. After which he calls his mom to brag about scaring away two potential friends to which she responds with glee and informs him cheerfully how she burned a whole tray of cookies. 

#8: Zombie man 

I love how extremely morbid this one especially for Disney. This one follows a boy a zombie in a school full of humans, and one of his friends comes up to him and finds out that he ate his prom date. Once he proves to be upset Zombie man tries to smooth it over by offering to eat some other girl’s date so he can have one as all the other girls in the school had a date. He does this and successfully scores his friend a date with a girl who’s sobbing that her boyfriend died.

#9: Lunch Lady Secrets 

 

This one starts with two kids watching a commercial about microwaveable meals that replicate school lunches for kids who miss them during summer break, the two kids laugh and say how much they don’t miss school and attempt to turn the channel then the people from the commercial appear in their home and continue to talk to the camera as if the commercial is still rolling. While the children freak out and attempt to call the police they continue to film with no care. This one is just silly. 

#10: Sally Jensen: Kid Lawyer 

 

This one is about a lawyer who’s a kid reprimanding people for lying in yearbooks. This one is just absurd funny; she makes a guy do community service because he told a girl to have a great summer and then her dog died.

 

What’s up dragon pal’s (don’t ask)

 

So, you all read the title you know where this is going. So, I wrote this down in my notebook and I’m just typing what I see /kinda/. So, today’s blog is going to be about my top three OTP’s. I didn’t know what else to blog about so bear with me plz. Thank you. 🙂

If you don’t know what an OTP is that’s ok. An OTP is just an acronym for the phrase One True Paring. This phrase is in many fandoms when talking about ships, not boats but the relation “ships” of the character in the show, movie or book. Some of it cannon some of it not.

Now I promise I won’t be like those people who just rant about their favorite ships /I probably will a little bit, but I’ll do my best to stay focused. /

1. Percabeth (Percy Jackson)

So, anyone here a Percy Jackson fan (I can’t see if you raised your hand.) Anyways if you are then good you already know about this ship but for the folks in the back who don’t have any idea what I’m talking about. Percabeth is main ship in the Percy Jackson franchise between Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson. /I’m really excited for the show coming out in December. /

So, Percabeth… I sometimes don’t know what to say they are just a great couple and if you’ve read the books then you know that their dynamic is just ugh my heart. Even though the relationship took a bit of slow burn it was till good, (just wait there is an even slower couple.) I recommend if you haven’t read the books to do it cause it tells about their relationship better than I can. I think it’s cute when get to see them go from kinda enemies, cause Athena kids and Poseidon kids can’t get along to best friends that rely on one another to lovers that would and did fight Gods and Titians for the other.

1. Hiccstrid (How to Train Your Dragon)

I was only 13 when I first saw these two on screen together. The first HTTYD movie was just so beautiful and not just with the animation but the story and the characters. I know I say this a lot, but I really do love this movie. It’s my favorite movie of all time. 

OK now on to the ship.

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III and Astrid Hofferson as known as Hiccstrid to the fandom and the creators are just the perfect example of a good enemy to lovers’ story trope. In the beginning of the movie, they don’t even really interact with one another but then they become rivals /kinda/ when they have dragon killing training but by the end of the movie, they are both just so caring for one another. Now, this might be a little silly but these two are the reason I have slightly high standards for a SOA. Now I’m almost at the max word count for this blog so I might do a rant on them in next week blog but in the meantime if you want to hear more on these two’s history watch this video.

 Why Hiccup and Astrid are the Best Couple in History: Their FULL Story – YouTube

My Top Favorite Ships 

—————————-

1. Hiccstrid (How to Train Your Dragon)
2. Percabeth (Percy Jackson)
3. Nalu (Fairy Tail)
4. Damian Wayne x Rachel Roth /Raven/ (DC comics)
5. Lumity / Amity Blight x Luz Noceda (Owl House)

 

If you read this and didn’t skip this cause of the title thank you for reading this crazy mess that I made have a good day. 

Cris Out! 

Wanted to start a trend of writing poetry for november so yeah, poetry p.ii now with personas

 fraudulent accord

if I told you I did it for you, you’d call me a liar. but somehow self-gain makes sense. every word out of my mouth you sincerely tried to block out but suddenly when you try to speak, you expect Christmas to come early. You got this idea,

“It’s all garbage out of your mouth,”

but when it’s yours I guess it doesn’t count. because I lie far too much to ever tell a fib, and when you fib, I just nod my head and glue my lips to keep the bread split between us.

But I think I’m getting tired of that?

I know there’s only much stale bread to keep me sustained, because maybe being fed like a dog isn’t worth my dignity. I used to love this game of back and forth, but hell knows if it means anything, all I know is I’ve been chasing to catch up with it, but the game is faster than my shoes can go.

My soles have run themselves ragged in their effort to keep up, and my knees are starting to give, so maybe I’ll let you leave behind this time and lead whatever race you’re trying to run.

kiln

I never thought someone could recreate themself straight from the kiln. Clearly I was wrong.

What happened, I don’t know. I don’t know why this hurts.

You were born fire ash and smoke and I got used to the scent. You clawed your way here yourself, and somehow, we shared the same callouses. That was our normal. Through this, I always thought I had someone who I recognized, we were made of rock and steel, we were made from hell together. We both climbed and we both made it ourselves. I thought it was something I knew well but now something’s different, and it’s turning my insides out. You made it. Without me.

You’re smiling, and you’re laughing, you’re unrecognizable, and I know I should be happy, but I don’t know what I’m feeling.

You remade yourself. Built yourself from the ground up, you wield something once scarred like its molten iron straight from the furnace. And yet here I am, and I’m not. I’m still shackled to my arms and body in chains that I don’t know how to shake.

So I have to ask.

How did you do it?

holding your Breath

No one knows the feeling of breathing like I do

something locked up in your chest
lets itself go and you feel reality reconnect
itself

you’d only been underwater for a few seconds,
you swear

It wasn’t that bad,
you didn’t even notice it.

You were only holding your breath a little bit
where your eyes started to spill themselves from your head
and reality turned to water and maybe you were drowning

but then you woke up.

so it’s not that bad, really. that’s just what breathing is.

Okay for some reason the blogs being due, totally slipped my mind, so for this post I’m just going to share something I made last month that I worked on for a while.

I know it’s sort of an easy ticket out of my dilemma, but I really don’t have any other choice.

The title is…  A Small Poet

“A Small Poet”

 

No, thank you.

I’d rather be, a… small poet.

Yes.

A small poet isn’t left on a shelf. 

A small poet Isn’t… passed out in class,
and needs to be read by Tuesday.

A small poet, isn’t laminated for protection.

No.
A small poet doesn’t cost much more than A buck fifty. 

A small poet has dogeared pages. 

A small poet sits in the house of a single mother. 

Or the apartment of a young artist. 

A small poet, has coffee stains, and highlight marks.
A Small poet is left in a mother’s purse. 

And likes to be read on Tuesdays.
Because he’s a Tuesday person.

A small poet has torn out pages, but they aren’t missing. 

They’re stuck on the walls with tacks and tape. 

 

I’d much rather be a small poet.

This piece was inspired by one of my goals in life, It might be different than the rest, and probably not as interesting. But my goal is clearly as the poem states, I do not want to be an Emily Dickenson, 

Or an Earnest Hemmingway. I don’t want to be an Edgar Allen Poe or a Robert Frost. I don’t want to be world-renowned. When I die, I don’t want a book of my work to be handed out in class and need to be read by Monday. I want my work to be analyzed for perfection or academic reasons. I simply want it to touch the hearts of those who find it. I would so much rather my work be found in an alley behind a few boxes. Found by a person who cherishes every word.

I would much rather that, than someone who buys my book in a bookshop and leaves it on their shelf to collect dust. I don’t want my book to be protected from dust actually, I would much rather it be worn, and dog-eared, and highlighted. I would much rather my book be owned by few and cherished by few. Then Owned by many and read by few.
I guess that’s my outlook on it, and I don’t even have a book of poetry (yet) to be published. But when I do, that’s how I want it to be read. 

Anyway, I hope that’s enough for a blog. Im just finishing this as were leaving, so theres not much time to edit, so please excuse any misspellings or errors. Thank you. 

So, for this week’s blog I thought that maybe I would just turn it into an establishment of my own psyche so I can try to learn a new concept better on my own. I really wanted to touch on the different strategies that are used to integrate abstract ideas into finite concepts and works. This is not because I feel like I am someone who is at the liberty to explain this in the slightest, but someone that needs to write it for himself. The idea that possibly having it written down might help me to do it better in the future is the only thing keeping me going.

 

So, I realized that there are numerous ways to achieve this concept the more that I took the time to look into it, however there are only a few ways that stood out to me when I attempted to align them with my own process. First off, I enjoy stating my ideas audibly to see if the idea itself is even a fathomable concept. There have been many instances in which I repeat ideas out to myself and find that I cannot even attempt to put the idea into words, let alone write. I say let alone even though a lot of ideas are easier for me to write than to say out loud. 

The second strategy that I use whenever I am trying to adapt these abstract ideas is to use finite concrete metaphors to compare them to. Like trying to compare these ideas to something that I might be able to better touch or interact with. For example, trying to use the idea of pelting hail to portray the feeling of being overwhelmed or emotionally barraged. However now that I find myself with only two other strategies in which I am no stranger to have emerged. That of course being, writing down concepts and ideas that I have the moment that I have them and hoping to god that they make sense later on, and if I am being honest, I’m lucky if it is a 50/50.Sometimes I wake up with ideas and have to try to climb down from the top bunk of my bed and sketch them down on whatever piece of paper that I can find in my dark dorm at 3 in the morning.  While it is not nearly as efficient or easy as the other two it has been what has worked for me, making sure that I can achieve thoughts that I have within myself is one of my main goals as a writer and I think that that is one of the main aspects of my improvement that I have achieved thus far. 

In honor of cold autumn weather we’ve had recently, I thought it appropriate to share an excerpt from a short story I wrote a while ago titled “The Peak of Autumn.” 

“The Peak of Autumn” tells the story of two young adults with a blossoming romance that began in a park one fall. Together, they explore their creativity, share some coffee, and embrace the little beautiful things in the world. 

It was the peak of autumn when I saw her for the first time. She was wearing a flowing dress in a soft orange, contrasting perfectly with her deep, glowing brown skin. A rose hue kissed her full cheeks and the sun’s embrace lit her with a gentle lambency as she glided down her route with the grace of a deity. We were in a park, in the middle of Houston, and it was exceptionally full that day. I remember picking her out of the crowd originally not only because of her distinct radiance, but also because of her scent. She must have been ten feet away, but the second I laid eyes on her, all I could smell was warmth- cinnamon and nutmeg, the crackle of a fireplace, the heat of the sun. I saw her, and I swear to God for a second, I could smell color. I could feel sound and hear sensations, and my whole world was flipped upside down the moment she made eye contact with me. It felt like that dewy blanket of air that cloaks your shoulders right before a good rain, when the world is tinted with a gentle yellow, and you realize that all this time you had been looking only at the world’s blue shades and missing all the greens. Like she somehow unveiled all of the beauty in the world that I had previously failed to notice. 

Barely conscious, I felt my feet move toward her. The closer I got, the stronger the pull. Before I knew it, the rest of the world disappeared, and it was just her, with her honey-gold eyes staring straight into mine.

“Hi,” I managed to blurt out. She smiled.

“Hi.”

My messy hair, forming a greasy mop over my forehead. My face, bright red and drenched in sweat. My old faded anime tee with bright green Nike shorts that clashed horribly with my yellow sneakers. You would think any of this would deter her- would make her suddenly have an appointment to go to, someone to meet. Instead, we went to a cafe. I got an americano. She got an iced caramel latte- extra ice, with oat milk. She got the same thing the next time, too. And the next, and the next.

We found ourselves part of each other’s Sunday morning routine. Week after week, we continued. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

Americano.

Caramel latte.

Extra ice.

Oat milk. 

We talked about many things during our time together. The weather. Our favorite books. The best museums to go to. The status of the neighborhood cat. But mostly we talked about colors. 

“You seem yellow today,” she told me once. That morning I received a call that I had gotten the promotion I had been after for months: chief editor of the Houston Press. They finally fired the previous one whom everyone loathed. I told her this, and she repeated herself.

“You seem very yellow today. Very yellow.” 

She seemed orange, as she always did. Today, it was soft orange with a brown undertone. Throughout our friendship, I went through every color of the rainbow, but she was always constant. Always soft, always warm. Always orange, with the occasional and slight shift in hue. I did not tell her this- only that I was glad to see her. To this day, I do not know why I felt the need to be so reserved. Perhaps it was because I didn’t understand her glow. Perhaps I sensed that she would be alright if I never told her. Perhaps I was afraid that by exposing that I noticed this, I would reveal all else that I knew about her. How she always had little wisps of hair sticking out from behind her ears. How the polish on her thumbnail always chipped off first. How when she smiled, it always started with a tilt of her head, and then the left corner of her lip raised, and then the right. I was comfortable with her ignorance of the fact that I noticed the dimples above her eyebrows, and that I knew that she was left handed but ate with her right. All these little details that I held close to me, afraid that they would somehow float away. I drank my coffee and listened to her speak, and we were happy.

I used to have this rascal of a dog named Clarence. He was a tan Shar-Pei with lots of wrinkles. For this blog I’m going to tell a story involving Clarence. He was my favorite dog.

A little sidestory, Clarence loved going on walks and car drives. He loved going out as much as he possibly could, but it wasn’t enough so he started escaping. During this time period, we couldn’t figure out how Clarence was escaping all the time. He would escape about twice a week. Finally, I took him on a leash in the backyard and walked him across the fence and he weaseled his way through some broken boards. After Clarence had walked through the fence I tried getting him to come back through it but he wouldn’t budge. I ended up tying the leash to the fence, walking all the way around the house, untying the leash, and then walking back around the house with Clarence. He was such a rascal. After I put Clarence back inside, I took some spare wood we had, some nails, and a hammer, and fixed the hole in the fence. Then I took Clarence back around the fence to find any more holes and to my surprise, there were more behind our small vineyard. Even though now Clarence couldn’t escape through holes in the fence, he always tried dashing out of the front door whenever someone would open it. It was really annoying.

Now for the main story. One day I was 12 and my brother was 15. I think it was a Friday during the summer, my mom, my brother, and I were about to leave to go to the bank. As we were about to walk out the front door, my mom was on the phone with a client as she’s a realtor. I had my phone in my hand and my satchel on my body, and my brother was standing there with nothing in his hands. As Thomas, my brother, opened the door, I said to him, “Watch out for Clarence!” but I was too late. Clarence had already darted out the door and had turned right to go down the street. Thomas immediately started chasing after Clarence while I threw my phone to the ground and ripped off my bag leaving it with my phone as I ran after Thomas and Clarence. Thomas had gotten a good 15-20 feet in front of me by the time I had started running. About 5 yards later, I started to pass Thomas and I screamed back at him, “Ha! I’m faster than you!” For years Thomas would always make a big stink that he was faster than me. After I said that, Thomas yelled back at me, “That’s because I’m wearing flip flops!” and we continued running while I was getting further and further ahead of him. What he didn’t hear me respond to was, “I’m in flip flops too!” Finally about half a mile up the street, I caught Clarence because he stopped to sniff some flowers. I grabbed hold of him and waited for Thomas to walk up. When he finally caught up to me, all I heard him say was “oh” before I cut him off and told him to hold the dog. I then proceeded to go to a nearby plant which was very viney, pluck the longest vine, and use that as a leash to walk Clarence back to the house. A few seconds after I started walking Clarence back to the house with my makeshift leash, my mom pulled up in her car and we all piled in. Thomas then said to our mom, “So we were running and I got a head start, right? Well Georgia started to pass me up and he was like, “Ha! I’m faster than you” and I was like, “That’s because I’m in flip flops!” and as I finally catch up to Georgia, I see she’s” wearing flip flops too.”

Note to self (and everyone who’s reading this) even though your siblings may be older, stronger, and bigger than you, you may still be able to outrun them and shove it in their face.