Tuesday, March 31, 2009
If Only
If it were up to me, I would have a dog
A big, furry dog
One that would sit on the couch with me
One that would go running with me
One that would love me unconditionally
And most importantly
One that would never shed
If it were up to me, there would be no such thing as bills, or grades, or deadlines, or anything that gave me anxiety
Anxiety wouldn’t even exist in Webster’s
I could work for my own enjoyment
I could go to school to deepen my thoughts
I could take my time and enjoy simplicity
If it were up to me, I would bake brownies for the rest of my life
I would move to coast
Or closer to the mountains
I would open up a bakery and create the most decadent desserts known to man
I would be featured on the Food Network, maybe even offered my own show
I would make people so happy
If it were up to me, it would never be too hot or too cold
It would rain at just the right times
And everyone would get to experience “a white Christmas”
If it were up to me, families would stay together
Friends would never forget
And loneliness would never be understood
If only it were up to me…
Friday, March 27, 2009
Liberation
I know this blog is meant for class.
But I feel the need to use it for my personal expression as well...
I'm scheduled to work at 10:15 a.m. tomorrow.
And I just turned off my alarm.
After being mistreated, unappreciated, and belittled... I decided to quit my job.
It feels right.
But I feel the need to use it for my personal expression as well...
I'm scheduled to work at 10:15 a.m. tomorrow.
And I just turned off my alarm.
After being mistreated, unappreciated, and belittled... I decided to quit my job.
It feels right.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
"Three Voices"
It’s 3 a.m.
The world is at rest.
The moonlight beams into my room through a tiny crack in the blinds.
My mind is racing.
Overflowing with anxiety.
So many questions. So many concerns. Yet I can’t seem to pinpoint just one.
My body is tense.
I try to breathe.
Instead, I choke on tears of frustration.
I need to slow down. And disengage from these obtrusive words.
The voices in my head are battling one another for attention.
I want them to stop. Let me rest.
I’m just so tired.
It’s 5 a.m.
My aching feet are begging for mercy as I force them to continue pounding on the belt of a sturdy treadmill.
Mile after mile, their cries become louder. More indicative of pain.
The voices interfere with the music of my headphones until they once again overwhelm my thoughts.
“Stop running. Stop working. Stop hurting me. Just let me rest.”
I keep pushing.
I’m still so tired.
It’s 11 p.m.
I sit in silence.
I reminisce on another long day.
Thoughts of tomorrow creep into mind without invitation.
They’re tormenting me.
My anxiety festers.
My body grows tense.
My heart begins pounding. Louder. Louder.
I need someone here.
I need someone to help me relax. To calm me down. And show me how to breathe.
I need to get out of here. Out of this apartment. Out of this state.
I need to break away from this monotonous routine.
Because I’m just so tired.
The world is at rest.
The moonlight beams into my room through a tiny crack in the blinds.
My mind is racing.
Overflowing with anxiety.
So many questions. So many concerns. Yet I can’t seem to pinpoint just one.
My body is tense.
I try to breathe.
Instead, I choke on tears of frustration.
I need to slow down. And disengage from these obtrusive words.
The voices in my head are battling one another for attention.
I want them to stop. Let me rest.
I’m just so tired.
It’s 5 a.m.
My aching feet are begging for mercy as I force them to continue pounding on the belt of a sturdy treadmill.
Mile after mile, their cries become louder. More indicative of pain.
The voices interfere with the music of my headphones until they once again overwhelm my thoughts.
“Stop running. Stop working. Stop hurting me. Just let me rest.”
I keep pushing.
I’m still so tired.
It’s 11 p.m.
I sit in silence.
I reminisce on another long day.
Thoughts of tomorrow creep into mind without invitation.
They’re tormenting me.
My anxiety festers.
My body grows tense.
My heart begins pounding. Louder. Louder.
I need someone here.
I need someone to help me relax. To calm me down. And show me how to breathe.
I need to get out of here. Out of this apartment. Out of this state.
I need to break away from this monotonous routine.
Because I’m just so tired.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Ring. Ring. Ring.
#1
It was frigid outside. My bare legs were covered in goosebumps as I paraded through Manhattan wearing a slinky dress and delicate heels. I barely noticed the shivers running throughout my body. It must have been the vodka.
It was the night after Christmas and my family and I were headed to an authentic Cuban restaurant nestled perfectly within the city. We were invited in by an enticing live band, the potent aroma of Cuban cigars, and some seriously sexy waiters. We clumsily danced the night away.
I reached for my camera, in attempts to capture those precious moments. Instead, I knocked over two Mojitos and a Bud Light.
It was that night where I had witnessed my first drowning.
I helplessly watched my beloved cell phone suffocate in a sea of alcohol.
#2
I arose to the sound of a pure silence. It had been weeks since my last day off and I finally had the opportunity to give rest to myself as well as my alarm clock. The sun was slowly beginning to rise. I took a moment to gaze out the window and appreciate the stillness of my environment. I set out on a long jog to commence my day of freedom. I read my favorite trash magazines. I washed my hair. I shaved my legs. I painted my nails. I baked muffins. I even vacuumed. I dedicated those precious hours to bettering my emotional stability.
The night, however, arrived quickly. My glorious day had come to an end. I began preparing for my return to reality. I plugged in my laptop. I checked my work schedule. I got my books together.
I waited as long as I could until I had no other choice. I finally turned on my cell phone.
RING RING RING!
“What’s up?”
“Is everything okay?!?!?”
“Yah, why?”
“I’ve been calling you all day! And your phones been off. And I texted you. And you didnt text me back. And I even sent you a message on Facebook! I thought you were dead. Or mad at me!”
And back to reality…
#3
An unknown number.
Should I answer? Or should I ignore it? Maybe it’s that guy I met last week. Or maybe I won that BMW I saw at the mall. Or maybe it’s the director of the internship I’m trying to get.
I should answer the phone.
But what if it’s my boss. What if he wants me to come into work tonight. Or what if it is really that guy I met last week. Do I really want to talk to him now? I don’t think I liked him that much.
Maybe I’ll just let it go to voicemail.
But what if it’s really important? What if it’s someone who really needs me? What if something happened to my mom? Or my brother? Or someone else I love?
Panic takes over.
I have to answer that phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Todd?”
Wrong number...
It was frigid outside. My bare legs were covered in goosebumps as I paraded through Manhattan wearing a slinky dress and delicate heels. I barely noticed the shivers running throughout my body. It must have been the vodka.
It was the night after Christmas and my family and I were headed to an authentic Cuban restaurant nestled perfectly within the city. We were invited in by an enticing live band, the potent aroma of Cuban cigars, and some seriously sexy waiters. We clumsily danced the night away.
I reached for my camera, in attempts to capture those precious moments. Instead, I knocked over two Mojitos and a Bud Light.
It was that night where I had witnessed my first drowning.
I helplessly watched my beloved cell phone suffocate in a sea of alcohol.
#2
I arose to the sound of a pure silence. It had been weeks since my last day off and I finally had the opportunity to give rest to myself as well as my alarm clock. The sun was slowly beginning to rise. I took a moment to gaze out the window and appreciate the stillness of my environment. I set out on a long jog to commence my day of freedom. I read my favorite trash magazines. I washed my hair. I shaved my legs. I painted my nails. I baked muffins. I even vacuumed. I dedicated those precious hours to bettering my emotional stability.
The night, however, arrived quickly. My glorious day had come to an end. I began preparing for my return to reality. I plugged in my laptop. I checked my work schedule. I got my books together.
I waited as long as I could until I had no other choice. I finally turned on my cell phone.
RING RING RING!
“What’s up?”
“Is everything okay?!?!?”
“Yah, why?”
“I’ve been calling you all day! And your phones been off. And I texted you. And you didnt text me back. And I even sent you a message on Facebook! I thought you were dead. Or mad at me!”
And back to reality…
#3
An unknown number.
Should I answer? Or should I ignore it? Maybe it’s that guy I met last week. Or maybe I won that BMW I saw at the mall. Or maybe it’s the director of the internship I’m trying to get.
I should answer the phone.
But what if it’s my boss. What if he wants me to come into work tonight. Or what if it is really that guy I met last week. Do I really want to talk to him now? I don’t think I liked him that much.
Maybe I’ll just let it go to voicemail.
But what if it’s really important? What if it’s someone who really needs me? What if something happened to my mom? Or my brother? Or someone else I love?
Panic takes over.
I have to answer that phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Todd?”
Wrong number...
Thursday, March 19, 2009
"Sitting, Waiting, Wishing"
The sun is slowly setting in this Arizona sky. The sky is always so pretty here. Especially the sunrises. I love waking up early.
The traffic is steadily dissipating as rush hour comes to an end. I’m sure people can’t wait to get home to their families after a long day at work. They’ll probably have a nice dinner together. And talk about everything that happened that day. They’ll be laughing and smiling and savoring the moments they share with one another.
I miss my family.
A little girl is playing on the sidewalk. She has pink chalk in her tiny hand. She delicately draws a flower. Or at least I think it’s a flower.
I used to love playing with chalk. I used to love playing in general. Kids are so easily amused and I’m so envious of them for being so carefree.
I remember the days when I could sit on a swing all day long and be perfectly content. We would go to the same park everyday and challenge each other to see who could fly higher. I always felt like I won, even though I never got the highest.
I see a plane gliding through the clouds. Leaving Arizona. Gradually getting higher and higher until it just vanishes. I love planes. And I love airports. I always wonder where people are going. And whose waiting for them. I always wish someone would be waiting for me.
I love the feeling you get when you’re so close to your destination. You’re anxious and excited and nervous and relaxed all at the same time.
I can’t wait to get out of here.
The traffic is steadily dissipating as rush hour comes to an end. I’m sure people can’t wait to get home to their families after a long day at work. They’ll probably have a nice dinner together. And talk about everything that happened that day. They’ll be laughing and smiling and savoring the moments they share with one another.
I miss my family.
A little girl is playing on the sidewalk. She has pink chalk in her tiny hand. She delicately draws a flower. Or at least I think it’s a flower.
I used to love playing with chalk. I used to love playing in general. Kids are so easily amused and I’m so envious of them for being so carefree.
I remember the days when I could sit on a swing all day long and be perfectly content. We would go to the same park everyday and challenge each other to see who could fly higher. I always felt like I won, even though I never got the highest.
I see a plane gliding through the clouds. Leaving Arizona. Gradually getting higher and higher until it just vanishes. I love planes. And I love airports. I always wonder where people are going. And whose waiting for them. I always wish someone would be waiting for me.
I love the feeling you get when you’re so close to your destination. You’re anxious and excited and nervous and relaxed all at the same time.
I can’t wait to get out of here.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Wasted Away Again in Margaritaville
It was another monotonous afternoon of serving chicken lettuce wraps and egg rolls. The dining room was gradually emptying as the masses of satisfied customers waddled out the doors. The clock nearly struck 4 o’clock as we anxiously awaited the arrival of the night shift. I cashed out my last table. Ripped off my apron. And bolted for the exit. Freedom at last.
“Arthi! Wait up!”
I panicked. I glanced behind me hoping that the voice was not associated with management or anyone that had the authority to make me stay longer.
Fortunately, it was just Chris. His charming smile and his laid-back vibe seemed to relax me a little bit. I let him catch up.
“Damn girl! What’s the hurry? Hot date tonight?”
“Ha, no. I just really had to get out of there today. Too many picky women. Too many screaming children. Too many assholes. And not enough tipping. If you’re gonna treat me like garbage… at least pay up at the end.”
“I feel ya. Well, hopefully tomorrows a better shift. In the meantime, how bout we go grab some margaritas at juan’s? My treat!”
Who am I to turn down a margarita? Especially a free one.
We made ourselves comfortable on the patio of Juan Jaimez, an upbeat bar just down the street from Chang’s. The sun shined bright and warmed our aching bodies. The sound of rush hour traffic filled the air and the aroma of savory tacos brought on some serious hunger pangs. I leaned back in my chair. Closed my eyes. And with that first sip of Juan’s classic, refreshing margarita, I let myself go…
The sun felt so good soaking into my bare skin. I drifted in and out of sleep with the sound of gentle waves playing in the background. The air was still with a cool breeze that seemed to present itself at just the right moments. My heartbeat was steady. My breathing was easy. I didn’t have a care in the world. Oh Mexico. Don’t let me let you go.
“Arthi? Arthi? ARTHI!”
“Oh my bad.” I shuttered.
“That margarita musta hit the spot, eh?
I guess you could say that…
“Arthi! Wait up!”
I panicked. I glanced behind me hoping that the voice was not associated with management or anyone that had the authority to make me stay longer.
Fortunately, it was just Chris. His charming smile and his laid-back vibe seemed to relax me a little bit. I let him catch up.
“Damn girl! What’s the hurry? Hot date tonight?”
“Ha, no. I just really had to get out of there today. Too many picky women. Too many screaming children. Too many assholes. And not enough tipping. If you’re gonna treat me like garbage… at least pay up at the end.”
“I feel ya. Well, hopefully tomorrows a better shift. In the meantime, how bout we go grab some margaritas at juan’s? My treat!”
Who am I to turn down a margarita? Especially a free one.
We made ourselves comfortable on the patio of Juan Jaimez, an upbeat bar just down the street from Chang’s. The sun shined bright and warmed our aching bodies. The sound of rush hour traffic filled the air and the aroma of savory tacos brought on some serious hunger pangs. I leaned back in my chair. Closed my eyes. And with that first sip of Juan’s classic, refreshing margarita, I let myself go…
The sun felt so good soaking into my bare skin. I drifted in and out of sleep with the sound of gentle waves playing in the background. The air was still with a cool breeze that seemed to present itself at just the right moments. My heartbeat was steady. My breathing was easy. I didn’t have a care in the world. Oh Mexico. Don’t let me let you go.
“Arthi? Arthi? ARTHI!”
“Oh my bad.” I shuttered.
“That margarita musta hit the spot, eh?
I guess you could say that…
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