Love makes you do anything

There are only a few fantasy books that catch my eyes. One in
a million. And those who grab my attention are most likely romance too. Lips
touch was one of those books that caught my eye and made me read it. It’s one
of those books with romance (like) and goblins and curses (hate). Yet the romance
and the theme was all I needed to continue to finish the book.

One story was on a girl that was cursed with a spell, should
not speak or will kill the ones she loves. For love she stayed mute. For her
prince she stayed mute. She stayed mute. And even though when some people and
her guy tried to make her speak she didn’t speak. It would hurt them if she didn’t
speak, it will kill them if she does.  And
I love the way she cares more about her family and friends than using the gift
she was given, a beautiful voice. I love how she chose love. Love over the
curse, the devil.

Another girl longed for something better. Some love. And when
she got it, it will kill her.  Yet she doesn’t
care about her dying, she wants that love. She wants to feel love no matter the
cost of it. And then I think about true humans in our world, how some teenage
girls or women long for a man. No matter if he loves her or not. In her mind he
loves her. In his he is using her. And women do anything to get love. Anything.

It just proves that love can do anything. Either makes us
make the wrong decision or make us stay quiet for it.  I never thought about the wrong side of love. Just
the sweet love, kiss and a happily ever after. But I know this world is full of
wrong men or woman that are liars and use others for their own selfish reasons.
And when they tell you they love you, you try to convince yourself its true
because we long for that love that we never had.  A wrong love, but still love.

I just love learning about beautiful love and the love that
we should stay away from. And the title and cover of the books read love, love,
love, and more love all over it. The book called to me. Made me read it. And I’m
happy this was one of the few lucky books read by me.

my 3 mentors

My first mentor is titled “what if he hadn’t?” by Ben
Futterman.http://benselablog.blogspot.com/2011/01/what-if-he-hadnt.html His post had questions that bought me more into it. And his first paragraph caught people by including them. Something that I should get better at, because in my posts I just talk about myself. And still he also wrote about himself. Us and him, great post. And I love how he put a certain question in my head, “what if he hadn’t?” made his own theory and I made my own too.

My second
mentor is titled “as if they have control”by Audrey Bachman http://lostinreading.blogspot.com/2010/10/ten-thousand-rupees-1-girl.html. This post if packed with so much personality and meaning, and hate. And I just love how the readers know how Audrey
is feeling. All that shame and hate is completely shown in this book. She does this with repetition. Some people don’t have the power of writing a good post that includes repition that just sounds like it on and on and never stops. But her repetition shows her rage and makes up the whole post.

My last
mentor is “fly away home” by Kai Junn Lathrop. http://mrpancakemix.blogspot.com/2010/10/fly-away-home-mr-pancake-mixs-response.html?showComment=1297207976754#c5740946060745025103His poem is so true. Seems true.
And this true makes the reader love his post. And I love how Kai uses his ideas
and opinions on people who are living in poverty. It seems so true with the
story “fly away home” backing up his opinions. A post so true and voice. It’s a
deep post.

http://www.brooklynmuseum.org/exhibitions/fred_tomaselli/

As he comes to a stop

He watches the wonders

Small shiny rocks

With treasures inside

Rows and rows of trees

The fire breaks free

And up in the sky

Is a strong sun

Lighting and burning

Till can’t look no more

And up ahead it starts to explode

Magic spreads

And he as a bird

completes the beaty of this

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

As he comes to a stop

He watches the wonders

Small shiny rocks

With treasures inside

Rows and rows of trees

The fire breaks free

And up in the sky

Is a strong sun

Lighting and burning

Till can’t look no more

And up ahead it starts to explode

Magic spreads all over

And he as a bird watches this all

All beauty of the world

i am an immmigrant!

Immigrants in Our Own Land

by Jimmy Santiago Baca

We are born with dreams in our
hearts,

looking for better days ahead.

At the gates we are given new
papers,

our old clothes are taken

and we are given overalls like
mechanics wear.

We are given shots and doctors
ask questions.

Then we gather in another room

where counselors orient us to
the new land

we will now live in. We take
tests.

Some of us were craftsmen in
the old world,

good with our hands and proud
of our work.

Others were good with their
heads.

They used common sense like
scholars

use glasses and books to reach
the world.

But most of us didn’t finish
high school.

The old men who have lived
here stare at us,

from deep disturbed eyes,
sulking, retreated.

We pass them as they stand
around idle,

leaning on shovels and rakes
or against walls.

Our expectations are high: in
the old world,

they talked about
rehabilitation,

about being able to finish
school,

and learning an extra good
trade.

But right away we are sent to
work as dishwashers,

to work in fields for three
cents an hour.

The administration says this
is temporary

So we go about our business,
blacks with blacks,

poor whites with poor whites,

chicanos and indians by
themselves.

The administration says this
is right,

no mixing of cultures, let
them stay apart,

like in the old neighborhoods
we came from.

We came here to get away from
false promises,

from dictators in our
neighborhoods,

who wore blue suits and broke
our doors down

when they wanted, arrested us
when they felt like,

swinging clubs and shooting
guns as they pleased.

But it’s no different here.
It’s all concentrated.

The doctors don’t care, our
bodies decay,

our minds deteriorate, we
learn nothing of value.

Our lives don’t get better, we
go down quick.

My cell is crisscrossed with
laundry lines,

my T-shirts, boxer shorts,
socks and pants are drying.

Just like it used to be in my
neighborhood:

from all the tenements laundry
hung window to window.

Across the way Joey is
sticking his hands

through the bars to hand
Felip� a cigarette,

men are hollering back and
forth cell to cell,

saying their sinks don’t work,

or somebody downstairs hollers
angrily

about a toilet overflowing,

or that the heaters don’t
work.

I ask Coyote next door to
shoot me over

a little more soap to finish
my laundry.

I look down and see new
immigrants coming in,

mattresses rolled up and on
their shoulders,

new haircuts and brogan boots,

looking around, each with a
dream in their heart,

thinking they’ll get a chance
to change their lives.

But in the end, some will just
sit around

talking about how good the old
world was.

Some of the younger ones will
become gangsters.

Some will die and others will
go on living

without a soul, a future, or a
reason to live.

Some will make it out of here
with hate in their eyes,

but so very few make it out of
here as human

as they came in, they leave
wondering what good they are now

as they look at their hands so
long away from their tools,

as they look at themselves, so long gone from their families,

so long gone from life itself,
so many things have changed.

 

I guess I chose this poem because it’s something I really
care about. A message that will forever stay inside of me and will follow until
I die. A word I was called since I was four, when I came to the United States. An
immigrant.

And though it hurts to be called an immigrant, I’m
proud of being an Ecuadorian. But because I was not born in this country, I will
never have the same advantage as the people who were born here.  I don’t visit my family back home and it’s
been almost ten years since ill seen my grandma. I practically don’t know how
it feels to have grandparents. To feel their love and touch. And I just watch
my brother go to Ecuador every year. And it hurts a lot to see someone I care go
to Ecuador and not take me. I know I’m jealous.

     But what really touched me in this poem is the sentence “We are born with dreams in our hearts, 

     lookingfor better days ahead. “. The poet right here is looking through the eyes of an
immigrant. Feeling what us immigrants feel. Because people want what’s best for
themselves. We are dreamers and we dream of high education, of a nice home with
a nice roof. We dream of better salaries and a light bulb. And to not walk a
large distance just to get some water. But unlike some people who aren’t
immigrants we the immigrants must work much harder. Since our descendants didn’t
leave a home behind for us or something that would make it easier to go on with
life. And since our descendants didn’t come to the United States for us.

     
we must start from scratch and cross the border.  We must leave our family and friends behind to
accomplish our dream.  We must do what’s
best for our family. We must look forward to a refrigerator full of food and
for good health. We must look forward to better days.

      what bought me and my family to New York was
me. I was sick at that time and my parents didn’t have money to pay a surgery. And
without that surgery I would have died. So my mother came to New York and
worked hard in a restaurant, slowly learning English and getting the money I needed
for the surgery. And once the surgery was over my father thought we should get
a better life. So my father left and I stayed with my grandmother. I was alone
for two years, but I got to go to school. And finally when I was four I came
here. I don’t actually remember anything and hope it stays like that. It would
be much too painful if i get a flashback.

   

      and it’s never easy for immigrants to
cross the border. My dad tried three times finally succeeding on his third try.
My uncle came to the United States too. He was young, 19 years old. When he got
here he had trauma. he had witnessed coyotes rapping women while in the border.
.They have to cross a lot of countries. They have to walk, run, sail and
finally take a plane.   And yet many don’t
succeed.

      And the
last few lines starting from “But in the end…”was surprising too. It’s all true.
The poet knew just what happens at the end. Some have some happiness. For others
it ends badly. When immigrants are finally here they end in poverty. Or hate.
Sometimes even missing the old times. When the place they came from looked much
better than the United States. But happily for me and my family all went well. We
have earned all the money we need to buy a car and during the last ten year we
had built a big house in Ecuador and a store. We even have extra money for
college and vacations. Now we are ready to move on. I am ready to meet my
family once again. And so when I graduate this year were moving back to Ecuador.

   but other people are not going back home. They
have raised children here and sometimes immigrants are afraid of their own
country. Only if they knew what it feels like to be back home. And my aunt is
one of those immigrants, who tries to talk me out of going back home, but all I
could say in my mind is “ I’m ready, I know it, Ecuador is where I belong.

laughter through those tough times

Sold
Sold
Sold into prostitution where life would never be the same. And those dreams you had will never come true. Where you will be trafficked until you aren’t worth it anymore. Until you get a disease or die.  And until your family has forgotten all about you. It’s where happiness was taken away. Where you just feel death is better than this.

And that’s what’s happening to Lakshmi when she was sold by her step father.  Sold! In the book sold by Patricia McCormick.  There are many things I would have loved to write about this book. I could have wrote something big from every paragraph she wrote because she picks such a deep and sophisticated topic that it all makes me learn life some more. And this just stood out.

“How they can eat and laugh and carry on as normal when soon the men will come  is so perplexing that, while they laugh, I fight back tears,”

I didn’t understand why trafficked women from the book will ever learn to laugh again. And act as if things are normal. Nothing is normal. That sure is true. But still these women pretend. They dream as if nothing happens during the night. Like if they are not in that place. As if they have never been touched by a men.

And while those women pretend to have a normal life, Lakshmi can’t get over that she’s trafficked. That this sweet place is not anything sweet just filth of men.  And full of people that she doesn’t understand.

But this book showed me that even though everything is a misery. If everything is hell. There’s still the option of pretending. Because nobody could live without some happiness in life. Nobody could go through this without some friends. Nobody could make it  without some hope.

And this reminds me of another book. I don’t remember its title or anything about it. But this one thing just stayed with me. That even homeless people living in poverty have happiness. They laugh with friends and talk to other people. They need happiness to go on throw this horrible time of life that would hopefully change.

Some women hope to have children because that’s the only happiness in that misery. The kids that would make women go on through this every night.  The women who would do anything for their child. And I guess that this women just want a better future for their children and not for themselves. Because a mother loves her children more than she could say.

And just family or friends make a little laughter go back in life and make you and me go on threw the tough times and fight threw them. Because without pretending we are nothing. In our dreams we are our own queens and kings. But in that place, in that trouble, wrong people see us as nothing.  When truly we are everything.

What happened the day before Chritmas till Christmas

This isn’t homework and this isn’t about reading either. I just felt like writing. I felt like putting my feeling into words that I can go back to them all over and over again. And what are better feelings, than Christmas feelings.

9: 23 pm ok it just turned 9:24 now it’s 9:27 12/24 the day before Christmas

I was away for a few minutes because my mom just came from work. And it takes about 3 minutes to hug and kiss my mother. Every Christmas we go to one of my aunt’s house to make a big party and open presets at 12 am. At 12 am we know that all family and friends are gathered around the tree and waiting for us. We know it’s time to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This year were going to celebrate at my house, which was a last minute thing because my aunt got sick and couldn’t cook dinner.

Right now I’m waiting for the whole family to come. The food is all done. I can smell the chicken and pork. There’s a lot of rice, salad and potatoes. There are a lot of things I still can’t name. All I know is that this is the picture of Christmas. And I can’t wait I’m too excited. I can’t wait for all my cousins to come so we could snuggle together.

9:48 still the same day

A few minutes ago my oldest cousin arrived. She’s in collage so don’t see her often. And I’m happy I got to finally see her and meet her new husband. Which I think he is nice and a very happy man. She’s lucky she got him. Right now I’m in my room and I know I’m wasting time not being with her, but I promised myself would do this. I will write on Christmas. Right now they’re in the leaving room eating and laughing. And right now I have to go. The bell just rang and I have to open the door.

10:26

Three of my cousins came and my aunt and uncle came too. They put the presents were my presents and my biggest cousins presents are. They’re under the big light tree. And the tree is already fully surrounded. I’m in my room writing his and changing into nice clothes. And each of my cousins is waiting outside to come inside my room.

Now I’ve changed and opened the door. My cousins (except the oldest one she’s in the living room talking to other grownups) are beside of me.  One is watching me write. And the other is playing with her little brother and my little brother. Every year it’s the same. And I like it that way. But sometimes I wish it will be another way. In my wish there’s no party and there’s mom, dad, and siblings. They sing at night and have some fun. But there’s always a tree. And instead of opening presents at 12 am they open presents when they wake up on the 25 of December. But then I love having my cousins and whole big family over.

10:34

My other part of the family arrived too (two cousins and an aunt and uncle). They bought presents too! Now they’re in my room. And we are all cramped together. But still we make the best of the room. We are playing on the computer and just listening to music and talking. We are still waiting for another aunt and uncle and three cousins. It’s hard for them to come. They live all the way in Staten Island and had to work in their restaurant. I don’t think they’ll be able to make it. Still, they won’t bring presents because of financial problems, but I still want to see them.

11:02

Now my uncle is here. He’s part of my dad’s family, his brother. I guess he’s the only person that has my father’s true blood. Everyone else is from my mom’s part of the family. He brought a present for me, my brother and father. I’m so happy I can’t wait to find out what’s in that envelope (or how much is in that envelope).

11:45

Its 15 minutes away from opening presents. I don’t think my uncle and aunt and cousins we are waiting for will come. 

12:14

I’ve already opened and handed out presents to people. I got two pajamas (what a shame, now I’m going to give one to my mother). I got a pretty white sweater. And a costly silver pen. Oh and I got 40 dollars which I will spend half of it after school starts on a wallet/case I wanted from Claire’s. And from my friends I got a four leaf clover necklace and a pocket watch and a case for my iPod.  It’s just all so nice and pretty especially the necklace which I think will give me good luck as long as I wear it.

12: 48

Everyone is drinking hot chocolate or coffee including me. We’re also eating some food along with it. Right now I’m wearing my new pajama and my necklace is around me. My eyes are already starting to close slowly. I think I won’t last till the party finishes.

1:02

My father and everyone else who had a camera just took pictures of all of us together. We were wearing Santa hats and eating candy. Then for 2 minutes my brother and little cousin sang “I wish you a merry Christmas”. Then we all clapped.

1:26

Now everyone is gone. They left like 10 minutes ago. Now I’m ready to go to bed and say bye. I’m ready for this writing piece to end. Merry Christmas!