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My shoes won't tie
My hair is a mess
My legs our sore
My room is a wreck
I live with people crazier than me
But I can't say that they're mean
I wonder what life would be with a blue sky
Birds flying through the sky
But instead my sky is grey
But I guess that's fine
I mean life that can be a pain
But I guess I like my life that way just telling you all the truth

On my last trip home I  lost my arm, I don’t know why or how.

I missed out on a year of my life

After so much worrying, the police finally released Kevin. He came top the hospital, it was nice to know that I didn’t lose him along with my arm.

I screamed and cried as I explained to the police that Kevin didn’t belong in the hospital. They thought that I was just in shock from what happened to my arm as they tried to understand and figure out how I lost my arm.

“How did you hurt your arm?” they asked.  “Who hurt you?” I was stuck on the words they used: Hurt. They acted as if my arm wasn’t missing. Didn’t they see it was missing.

“It was an accident.” I yelled. “An Accident.”

They started nagging me about Kevin. Their words went in one ear and out the other.

I took a long pause when they finished speaking. I yelled once more “It was an accident, Kevin did not hurt me. Get out and let me see him”

Happy Story:

I stand in a crowd and see nothing but grey figures around me.  Because the only one that matters is you, let's be together forever.

Tragic Story: I stand in a crowd and see nothing but darkness.  I'm alone and I can't find you.  I want you to know, "I miss you"

That's amore:Dean Martin

"When the moon hits you eye like a big pizza pie

That's amore
When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine
That's amore
Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling
And you'll sing "Vita bella"
Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay
Like a gay tarantella

When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool
That's amore
When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet
You're in love
When you walk down in a dream but you know you're not
Dreaming signore
Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli
That's amore"

I've been a writer. I started writing when I was 12. They were little poems that followed the AB pattern and rhymed every other line. I never invested the time to develop an advanced vocabulary so the poems consisted of overused words, but they were my poems. They were my thoughts in 12, or 14, or 24 sized font. And I cherished each poem that I started, whether I completed them or not; because they were my poems. They were my thoughts in black, or, blue, or pink ink on white paper. Those poems turned into short stories, which very quickly turned into never- ending stories.   

I am a writer. I haven't written a poem in months; but I work on my novels daily. I've added a few words to my vocabulary, but not many. The stories still seem never ending; written in pure dramatization and ending abruptly. I save any deleted content and value everything. Because these stories or scenes, are my escape into a life that I have created. A life that has been stuffed onto a 13- inch screen, but can never be limited in words, font size, or font color.

But I've never shared anything with anyone outside my comfort zone. It may seem strange my comfort zone includes people that I don't interact with physically on a day- to- day basis. I've shared my creations online or through email. I've sent 100 pages of imagination to people that live in Oklahoma, or Chicago. But when my best friend since 10th grade asks me to send him something, I get nervous. I anticipate judgement. 

I am a writer; I've been a writer. But I want to be a publisher. 


     

There are about a million things that people have to do as a routine part of their lives in order to survive in the world we've created for ourselves. I mostly hate all of them. I hate filling out tax forms and keeping track of receipts, I hate folding laundry and I hate paying bills, I hate filling out little forms where I have to answer an endless amount of questions that are all asking the same thing as the one previous. I hate having to memorize a government issued number and I hate being put on hold when I'm trying to figure out about when the next time I have to go get new blood work done is.
Despite hating all of these things though I can usually find at least one thing that is likable about each of them so that I can somehow get through them without completely having a panic attack. For instance when I'm on hold I usually try to come up with fake names and meanings for all the songs they play while I'm waiting on the phone.
But when it comes to grocery shopping, I just can't take it. I don't know if it's the ugly packaging, the crappy music, the zillions of people who don't know how to move their carts to the side while browsing to let other people get by, or the employees who understandably hate their jobs and take it out on me when I ask them for help, but every time I set foot in a grocery store, I begin to feel physically ill.
Today I had to go grocery shopping for my great great cousin who is 84 and nearly blind. I help him often, I come over at least twice a week for at least four house. I helped him with a lot of things that I listed above today in fact, I folded his laundry and I helped him fill out his taxes and I even called the hospital for him and waiting patiently on hold to find out when his next eye doctor meeting was.
Anyway, every time I go grocery shopping for him he makes me this list that takes up at least four pages, half of the reason it takes up so much space is because I think he forgets sometimes that I still have my vision so he right REALLY big, but also, every time he makes a list, he's preparing for the apocalypse. (Mind you I get him groceries every other monday.) Today he had me buy four packs of 24 pack toilet paper rolls. I bought 30 bagles and 8 bags of family sized chips and they all needed to be Lays and they ALL needed to be a different flavor. He is adamant against all things not name brand even if they are less than half the price of what he listed. He hates all things organic even when they taste the same and cost the same. When I leave after putting away all his groceries to go home he takes every single item out of his fridge and examines it under this super CCTV that he has that magnifies things up to ten times the size and if he sees the word "organic" or "shopright" anywhere he calls me up and complains. He also asks for things that no one has ever heard of, today he had listed "pickled herring in light salted sour cream sauce VITA BRAND NAME it has a blue label and is in a plastic bottle" I nearly vomited, I didn't think real people ate those things. He asked for four large bottles of hazelnut creamer like he does every single time I go shopping and somehow he manages to use it all before the next time I get there, I suspect he drinks it out of a mug like orange juice several times a day.
He asked me to get him four pounds of liverwurst. Liverwurst by the way is the most poorly named product in the history of foods. I waited in line with a stupid little number in the deli section of shoprite for nearly 45 minutes. I suppose it seems dramatic but it's also true, that while i was standing their next to those dozens of old people waiting for their sliced up meats I felt like I was actively dying. I know it is mean to say but some of those people looked like they are decaying even as they are standing there in front of me, they looked like they were falling apart right in front of my face. Everything in my body was telling me that I needed to leave that store right away, that I needed to friggen lean all the groceries in the cart and make a break for it because it was a beautiful day today, it was in the 60's and those grocery stores look like prisons, they look like 70's era public schools. Something about being in grocery stores makes me feel like I'm shaving years off my life, it was the worst part of my day.

I don't think I have much to write really, so this story will be kind of lame. Anyway, I started my Capstone today which is teaching an 8th grade class about medical history. We started with osteology. I was panicking all week because when I went to introduce myself last week I was pathetic and could barely figure out what to say when put on the spot in front of the class. It kind of discouraged me and made me not want to go back, but I felt like I was too deeply committed to be able to back out of it now. 

However, this class went fantastic. Everything literally fell into place and all the students actually seemed interested, even taking notes and yelling at me if I went too fast for them to write. It was insane and awesome at the same time. 

Kevin( my little brother)

" I remember one time I really didn't feel like going to school and mom specifically told me I had to go this day and I decided to be stubborn and just stay. So I decide I'm just gonna stay in my room until she goes to work. Well and hour passes, past the time she was supposed to leave and I start to get nervous. ohhhh my God, Kat, she called out! The one day I decide to stay home is the one day she wants to call off. So I'm thinking to myself it's cool, she never checks my room anyways so i'l be fine. But then I hear her walking in the hallway, to the bathroom and to her room and downstairs to her room; she just wouldn't stay still, and every time I heard her walk someone i was so scared (LOL). The messed up part was not that I got caught it's how I got caught and in which moment. ok, so, as I'm hiding  out, feeling like Ann Frank in the Attic, trying not to make any noise I suddenly have to pee! I tried to hide it as long as I could and I peeked outside of my door and she has both her room door and th bathroom door open, so it was automatically not an option to try and use the bathroom without being caught. It was too risky... Kat.. don't judge me. I really! Really! Really! had to go.. So i found a bottle in my room and used it if u know what i mean! :( .. literally a minute later all I hear is my scream, "KEVIN get down here!".. I forgot my book-bag downstairs. smh

 Don't Forget, your beautiful.

You light up the nigh, fireworks,

show me a good time and My heart will go on.

What would I do to FInd your unforgettable love?

Shut it down and light it up!

What would you do?

Don't forget to Miss me.

Good Times.

Today was the perfect day! I went to Colgate University, I went shopping, and I ate ice-cream [chocolate and cream] … It was awesome! I got home at around 9:00 pm and I noticed that I’ll have a quiz tomorrow [I haven’t yet study] I have 3 assignments to do. It is crazy! I’m probably going to stay up all night studying for the quiz. Well at least I can say that today was a perfect day [from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m.]

 I shuffled through my iTunes till my favorite song blasted out my ears as Park Bom sang loudly opening lines "YOU AND I TOGETHER IT JUST FEELS SO RIGHT". I turned down the volume and looked at the screen. It was ironic that a person me and my friend were debating about came on my iTunes. I clicked back on to here box she went on aruging.
"You totally look like her"
"I do not she is korean"
"You have the same nose"
"I have my mother's nose"
"Your eyes are the same"
"Eh I doubt it"
-she sent a picture to me-
"See you look the same"
"You seriously think so?"
"Yes"
"Well I dunno..."

After that argument almost a year ago you can say I am convinced that at times we look a tiny bit alike. But not always it is just a bit a those random moments.

Video

Today, for what seemed like the first time in years but had actually only been a few weeks I chilled with my best friend after school. It lasted three hours, and it was wonderful. I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach all day when I hadn't seen her because we had no classes together and I hadn't seen her in the morning because I had gym class downstairs. So, when I finally met her at our locker I got extremely happy and smiled my brightest grin, and then I found out she was going to spend time with me. Needless to say, I was more excited than I have been in a long time because we almost never hang out anymore. So, today was a good day.

Snip Snip Snip. I watched small curly pieces of my hair fall onto the smock. Normally when Ms. Pat, my hair dresser, cut my hair I do not worry, but today was a different story. See, I had already only had about 1 inch of hair to begin with, so this time was extremely scary. Conveniently, she faces the chair away from the mirror, so i have no idea what I am in store for when I turn around.​ Snip Snip Snip *pause to get bigger scissors* "You got to be kidding me" I though. Snip Snip. This goes on for another 10 mins. When she turns me around *silence* I have no hair. Ok, that's an exaggeration, but it's very close to it. I couldn't believe she would main me like this. I have trusted this women for years, and then she does this. As she messes with it, she says in her thick Trinidadian accent, "I looks real good. We gon grow it natural and then for prom we fix it up...ok?"
"Ok" I replied. Not Ok! I  was completely devastated. I went into the small bathroom and tried to convince myself that life in prison is not worth a couple inches of hair.
After I paid her and left, I got into my mom's car and let it all out. "I'M BALD!"
"No, you're not" she says.
"Do you see this...?" I replied as I looked at her long thick locks that I immediately  became jealous of.
"It looks cute, plus it's only hair" At that moment all my whining and complaining stopped. She was completely right (which is a rare thing), it's only hair. This had been my mantra for the past couple of months since I cut my hair. I guess I forgot it when I realized I had no 'hair' to say 'it's only' to.
When I got home I spent about 30 minutes in the mirror, trying to make it 'work' for me. After awhile a gave up, cause once again I realized it's only hair.

Harrison: Hey
Me: What? You woke me up
Harrison: Is my wallet at your house
Me: I don't know
Harrison: Can you check?
Me: ugh fine.
Me: I don't see it
Harrison: Can you check outside?
Me: Not there
Harrison: Check under the couch
Me: IT'S NOT HERE!
Harrison: oh nvm. It was in my coat pocket. LOL

Today was our english classes first ever story slam. In the beginning when Chase became to call names, everyone looked around as if people forgot what today was.

"Pick a number 1-30!" He shouted.

For a second I was nervous because I thought we had to prepare something but after the first person went up and read their story. It was relaxed through out the rest of the story slam and was very comfortable. Stories told from your heart dont need preparation but just memory and everything else is for show. I was eagerly waiting after the first person went to hear my name be called because now I wanted to do it. I never usually get nervous but for a second I was worried that everyone had a story prepared and it was going to be exactly five minutes and official. I noticed that everyone was in the same boat I was in which was better for me to get out of that nervous stage, like when you first try something new. but it seems like ill have to wait until next Tuesday to get another chance to say my story...