Érase una vez… Allí un pueblo antes de la ciudad de Filadelfia.  Era un pequeño pueblo.  El pueblo era en un plano y exuberante. Muchas personas. Ellos eran tranquilos y aislado. Ellos eran independiente desde otros grupos. Sin embargo, su independencia hizo su grupo sobre seguros. Ellos tienen un difícil tiempo con la comida y agua para ellos mismos. Era un largo camino para las personas quién obtuvieron el agua. No cazaban porque los otros grupos robaban los animales para ellos mismos. Los líderes eran enojados y desesperados. No pudieran encontrar una manera detener los otros grupos.  A ese ritmo, el grupo morirían.

Un día, las personas del pueblo decidieron orar a los dioses para un regalo. Un regalo eso protegería su grupo desde otros grupos y dar la comida y la agua necesario vivir. Ellos fueron a el centro del pueblo. Juntos, gritaron la oración y esperaron. Y esperaron. Y… esperaron. El grupo gritaron la oración otra vez. Ellos mendigaron los dioses ahorrar ellos. Sin embargo, ellos tuvieron un poco visitantes no deseados. Un otro grupo espiaban en su grupo. Ellos veían el ritual. Ellos creaban un plan atacar el grupo. Ellos tuvieron los armas y ellos estaban listos atacar. Entonces, ellos comenzaron gritar y corrieron a la enemigos. El grupo asustaban de los gritos. Ellos mendigaron duro para salvarse. Su enemigos estaban cerrando en su pueblo. Ellos estaban orando lo mejor que podrían. Entonces, un miembro del grupo enemigo apuñaló su propio miembro. 

El mundo se ralentizó. La masacre había comenzado. Las personas murieron izquierda y derecho. Los enemigos trabajaron su camino a los jefes. Parecía como si ese fue el final.

Cuando de repente, había una luz cegadora. Todo el mundo se pararon y miraron a el cielo. Desde el cielo, allí había tres personas, una mujer y dos hombres. Ellos eran cegadora, pero muy hermosa. El grupo eran aturdían, pero bendecían también. El grupo eran Ellos flotaron a el suelo. Se pararon una pulgada antes el suelo. Con un movimiento de su manos, ellos lanzaron los enemigos lejos desde el pueblo. Entonces, los dioses levantaron sus manos. El suelo comenzó sacudir. De repente, el suelo agrietado abierto en dos lados del pueblo. Agua comenzó subiendo. Llenó las grietas grandes. Pronto, dos ríos formaron. Estos ríos separado los enemigos desde el pueblo. El grupo alabaron los dioses como ellos flotaron en el cielo. Los enemigos estaban atrapados en el otro lado. Ellos no podían atacar. El grupo fueron salvaran y han sido bendecidos con agua. Ellos decidieron llamar después los nombres de sus jefes, Schuylkill y Delaware.

“Before I got here, I came from there. A planet far from this one. This planet is lush and green. Such beautiful flora and fauna. A species called “humans” dominate this planet. They have such interesting civilization with governments, economies, religions, and free will. This is far different from my home world. I come from the planet called Dracon. It has deserts, mountains, dangerous creatures… you would think it would be like Earth, but there’s one difference between this place and Dracon. Constant war. All over the planet, war was everywhere. It prevented us Draconians from having a proper civilization. All that ever happened was war. All that was ever discussed was ever. All we were ever taught was war. War was the end for us, and it would seal our fate.”

A battle has commenced in a great desert. Soldiers coming from the mountains, running and screaming onto the desert land. They threw their punches and kicks landed into each other’s faces, and each blow caused quite a boom. The ground rumbled, the mountains shook, and soldiers flew. It was quite the battle. In the end, after the dust cleared, there were soldiers walking off into the sunset, while hundreds lie on the desert floor, beaten and killed. 

“It was one of the deadliest battles in Draconian history. The soldiers of the Federation were badly defeated by the Uprising,” said Mr. Jahn as showed his students an old wall painting of the battle. Every student seemed interested in this fascinating history. Well, everyone except for Dar - Ol. Dar - Ol was an unusual Draconian. The reason for that is because he doesn’t talk about fights or war, he talks about peace on the planet. He says one day, he will save his race. Until that day comes, he has suffer being bullied by his classmates, and receive harsh criticism from his parents about growing up to be a warrior. His thoughts were interrupted as Mr. Jahn continued with his history lesson.

“This marked a crucial point in history for the Federation. They were down many men, and the Uprising could easily attack the capital. In which case, they did.” He stuck his hand out to show another old wall painting.

“The Uprising took the final battle to the capital, where it was a slaughterhouse. The Uprising took it to everyone, killing anyone who got in their way. The men, the women, and the children. It seemed like lost cause. The battle was over before it begun. It looked like the Federation would fall.” continued Mr. Jahn. At this point, Dar was almost completely out of it. He couldn’t pay attention to this lesson. He was about to leave until…

“When suddenly, a hero emerged from the destruction.” This surprisingly caught Dar’s attention.

“A hero,” asked a fellow classmate. 

“Yes, a hero. One with vast incredible power. He defended the capital and everyone within it. The generals of the Uprising were stunned. This one being trumped every soldier in the Uprising. Many reports said he could move like a blur, some said his strength topple even the strongest of us, some even said he jump from side of the city to the other with a single locomotion. Whoever this being was he was unstoppable.” This put Dar in a daydream so deep, he believe that taking the role of the hero.

“What happened in the end,” asked a fellow classmate.

“In the end, the generals themselves challenged this being to fight them. The generals were the best of the best. They were ones who could move fast, jump far, and have the most strength.”

“Was it enough,” asked a classmate in the back of the group.

“It wasn’t even close. Even the generals speed, power, and agility were trumped by this being. They had never seen anything like it. They forced the hero’s hand, and they surrendered. What seemed like a day that the Uprising would win turned into a victory for the Federation, and the government maintained itself from then until now.”

After the little daydream finished, Dar spoke up to ask a question.

“Mr. Jahn, what happened to the hero?”

“Well…” said Mr. Jahn with a long pause. “I don’t know. In fact, no one does. There has never been recorded information about the hero. The generals couldn’t see his face because he moved so fast, and he never came out in public.”

“Someone had to know,” said a classmate. “I mean, there had to have been one person that knew about him.”

“If there were, I’m sure they wouldn’t give away his identity. For all we know, the hero is probably dead,” finished Mr. Jahn.

This sunk Dar’s heart a bit. Some students noticed it, and decided to start making fun of him for it.

“Aww, Dar’s gonna cry now. His hero went croak.”

“That’s probably his granddad.”

“You want to be a hero, wimp? Grow up strong and big like us, not weak and pathetic.”

Luckily, Mr. Jahn heard their little whispers and called them out.

“Gon, Sram, Wel! When we get back to school, all three of you stay for extra training.” This breathed a sigh of relief for Dar. The three of them have picked on him since he came to the school. He’s wanted to take them so badly, but unfortunately, he knows he couldn’t. All three of them were about half a foot taller than him, and had about 20 to 30 pounds on him, and they were very good fighters. No doubt, Dar was actually a great fighter. Trainers have compliment his progress, especially Mr. Jahn, one of the most experienced fighters in the school. However, speed doesn’t always trump power, especially if three of them who have more power than him.

The day continued on in the museum, but all Dar could think about was being the hero, and using that power to save his people. Maybe, get some revenge while he was at it. They board the vessel to return to the school, and when they got back to school, everyone (with exception of Gon, Sram, and Wel) went on home. Dar could’t wait to tell his parents about his day, and the history lesson he learned.

“… And this guy was a huge legend,” exclaimed Dar to his parents. He was saving the hype for his parents, but sad to say, that hype was wasted when his parents didn’t really show the enthusiasm that he expressed.

“Dar, that’s nice to hear,” said his mom, Kare, with no emotion while doing her chores. His dad, Don, still training in the holo room, didn’t even say one word when Dar was home. This was the basic routine for Dar. He would always come home from school, and see his parents (who were soldiers of the Federation) would be either training or doing chores around the foundation. They never spent too much time with Dar. They expected him to go school, learn to fight, come home and train with them, eventually turning him into a soldier for the Federation. 

“Honey, let’s stop with the silly stories, and show us what you learned today,” said Kare. This caught Dar by surprise. He thought his parents would think this was a big thing he learned, that his parents would be interested.

“It’s not a silly story! It’s amazing! This is something that should be considered an inspiration for soldiers,” exclaimed Dar in confident voice, only to have it short-lived by Don after coming out of the holo-room.

“Please, that old legend? That’s a myth. You said it yourself, that it was used as an inspiration. After the Federation took back the city, they believe that the Uprising started to hallucinate and imagined the so-called super soldier. There was no one in the Federation army that had enhanced abilities, and we would know. During training, we have the trainees under surveillance. It’s protocol,” explained Don.

“Maybe he had to break protocol…,” continued Dar before he interrupted by Don.

“That would be impossible. The holo-room has surveillance cameras, motion sensors, sonar, detection plates, you name it. The reason for that is so the fighter can see how he fights from every angle.” Dar was decimated. 

“Why would the museum lie about the legendary super Draconian,” he asked. “There has to be an explanation.” 

“Well, the only reason I think they would tell about the super Draconian is because of the overwhelming reports of seeing the being. So many from the Uprising and still plenty of reports from the Federation,” Don responded.

Dar’s confidence is at an all time low. He was so excited about the legend, only to be told that it was a myth. 

“Come on, Dar. It’s a myth. It can be true or it is false. Let’s just go training. Show me what fighting techniques you learned, not legends and stories,” said Don with reassurance. Dar walked with Don into the holo-room. He still pondered the myth. He decided to go on, figure out the legend by himself. He still thinks it’s true, and he wasn’t going to stop until he proved that.

So Dar set out on his long journey to find out about the legendary myth. He went to his friends, and went to the collection halls were they store data of old historical events. Some of the really old and secretive data was kept in the old chamber room. Dar came to the main desk, and there was a young female collector there. She was on the computer processing the data throughout the collection halls. Dar thought she was kind of cute, even though she was way past his league. He knocks on the desk to get her attention, and succeeds. 

“Excuse me, hello. I was wondering if you could give us access to the old chamber.” The female smiled at him. For a moment, it looked like Dar would get a yes easily. However…

“Why would I do that? You’re like 10 years old. Only special people get privileges like that,” she said with such attitude. Dar felt offended. 

“Excuse me,” he responded. “But I’m actually 13, and what do you by ‘special’?” 

“Well ‘I’m actually 13’, but by special, I mean the staff, business, scientists, teachers, etc. You, young man, are those kind of people.” Dar was really aggravated. He hated how she kept referring to him as little. She was really cocky. So he decided to be cocky right back at her.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is with me, but I really need to see the old data from the Uprising era. Now you could do that with no problem at all, or I could go your boss and complain that I’ve been given false data, which I’m pretty sure is not beneficial for you at all since you, you know, you run all the data in the halls.” He crossed his arms, and tap his foot on the ground. The collector wanted to say something back, but was actually afraid that Dar would go tell the manager. All collection halls were built the same way, so it was easy where to find the collectors and the manager. So she decided to carefully sneak Dar into the old chamber. 

“Thank you,” he said relieved. 

“You’re welcome,” she said sarcastically, and returned to her desk. Dar went through the data, looking into the old reports of the Uprising era. He needed to look for evidence of legend besides the big city battle. He looked throughout the data. He couldn’t see anything. He spent 4 hours in the chamber, and triple checked all the data. He didn’t find anything. This made him frustrated and sad. He walked out the old chamber, and started walking out the collection hall. He passed the collection desk, and the collector resist to comment.

“Couldn’t find what you wanted to find,” she said with a fake enthusiasm. 

“No. I didn’t. Ok? That a good answer for you? Should put that in your data,” he replied with anger. She jumped a bit from the reaction. He walked out the collection hall and into the night. 

He kept thinking to himself, “How could I’ve been that foolish?” He walked throughout the city towards his foundation when suddenly a black vehicle made a screeching halt in front of him. Two guys stepped out the car and attempt to grab him. Luckily, his training makes him a formidable opponent for these two. He started to do the “duck and knuck” strategy, one his Dad taught him. He would duck under opponents’ strikes and punch them in the pressure point located in the abdomen. It would knock his opponents down in two to three attempts. It seemed like an easy fight, until he realized something. He was a bit sluggish, and noticed why. He was tranquilized. The two lunkheads actually got to him because of the severe decrease in his speed. They knock clubbed him. He fell to ground with a hard thud. He lied there, vision blurry and hearing muffled. The last thing he saw were what seemed like a black militia suit. He heard talking, but he too far out of before he fell unconscious.

Yo soy un fantasma. Yo no recuerdo mi nombre. Mucho tiempo tiene aprobado para mi recordar. Yo tengo un fantasma para muy largo. Yo quiso ir arriba de allí, pero yo tengo una maldición eso guarda mi aquí. Yo vuelo a un pequeño pueblo. El nombre de pequeño pueblo es Guernica. Yo era allí cuando sucedió. Cuando las bombas cayeron de el cielo. Era muy terrible.

¿Qué ves en la obra? ¿Cómo son los colores? Describe el tono.

Yo veo pánico, desesperación, caos, pero en todas partes, muerte. Sin embargo, allí fue los hombres luchando para sus personas y familias. Yo veo esperar y fe a pesar de qué iba pasando.

¿Qué quiere decir el artista?

Está obra es realistico. La obra muestra el caos eso pasó aquí en Guernica. La obra describe todo el dolor y la agonía los personas de Guernica sufrieron a través de.

¿Qué comunica/significa la obra para ti?

La obra comunica muerte para mi. Yo soy un fantasma después de todo. El muerte es una cosa para mi. Es qué veo desde yo soy un fantasma para un tiempo largo. 

¿Te gusta? ¿Por qué la escogiste?

No me gusta esta obra. No me gusta la muerte ni siquiera para mi. Sin embargo, esta obra es verdad. El mensaje en esta obra es muy fuerte y muy importante.

El tono de la instrumentación remite un tono de hispano. Es calma y pacífico. La instrumentación y las letras de la canción juntos ¿Cómo conviven? ¿Los juntos y la voz de Gaby? Bien, Gaby canta la canción con la armonía. Ella guarda su voz ser similar con el tono de su la guitarra. A el fin de la canción, Gaby canta la última parte, “Ooooh,” en sincronización con el tono de la guitarra. A través de la canción, es simboliza la paz y la memorias felices.

Temas

Estas son las frases que repiten a lo largo de la canción (cuál es toda la canción). La canción es tres versos y cuatro lineas.

Vengo desde muy lejos

Buscando el azul del cielo

Siguiendo predicamentos

Vengo desde muy lejos

Recuerdos desde mi infancia

Que a veces parten el alma

Mi Guate nunca la olvido

La llevo siempre conmigo

Cansados de estar corriendo

En tiempos de cacería

Alzo en alto mi vuelo

Como el ave que emigra

El mensaje recogí en “Ave Que Emigra” es los inmigrantes sienten como ellos vienen desde muy lejos. Esta es la línea que te llamó la atención. “Vengo desde muy lejos.” ¿Por qué esta línea que te llamó la atención? Yo dije el mensaje es los inmigrantes vienen desde muy lejos. Esta línea es que el ave dice si nosotros vemos desde su perspectiva. El ave es el inmigrante. El línea hace la conexión de cómo los inmigrantes sienten cuando ellos inmigrar. 

Mi inicial reacción a la canción era cómo la canción es muy calmante. ¿Qué es mi conexión personal con la canción? Veniendo a SLA desde mi vieja escuela es un poco como los inmigrantes sintieron cuando ellos vinieron desde sus viejos países. Es una nueva vida. Es diferente desde vieja vida. Tenemos obtener acostumbrado con la nueva vida. Muchos personas sienten como eso. Yo sentí como eso cuando yo vine a SLA. ¿Qué opinas del mensaje? El mensaje es interesante y deberíamos aprender desde el mensaje. Hablando de eso… ¿Qué aprendiste? Todo el mundo pueden sentir como ellos vienen muy lejos. Especialmente si tú entras una nuez vida.

Yo vivo en Roxborough. Esta barrio es muy bueno. Esta no perfecto, pero esta una de el barrio mejor en Filadelfia. Me gusta eso es pacífico por la mucha tiempo.  No me gusta los muchos adolescentes allí. Me gusta donde vive porque es pacífico. Allí es no crimen terribles. Las personas quien viven en el barrio son muy amable. Un tema importantes en mi comunidad es esta colorido. Pienso las tiendas en Roxborough. Allí es muchas tiendas. También, carrera de bicicletas es un evento importante en Roxborough. Esta evento es unos eventos mayores en todo de Filadelfia. ¿Qué cambiarías de tu barrio? Menos las tiendas y menos la policia. 

Las formas de arte son murales, las pinturas, las esculteras, etc. Las características del arte es muchos colores, unas personas (una persona o un grupo), o unas palabras (un frase o una palabra). El propósito es mostrar un mensaje en una comunidad. ¿Tiene que ser atractivo el arte? Depende. Es sobre el tipo de arte te gusta. Tiene un mensaje. Es comó yo veo arte. Muchos murales muestran unos mensajes. Las marcas y el grafiti es arte, pero no es legal. El vandalismo no es arte porque el vandalismo destruye arte. En las noticias, tu ves las estatuas destruyó. Es el delito, también es la invasión de la propiedad de alguien. Mi pieza es una forma de arte porque yo soy haciendo una imagen bonita. Las imágenes puede ser formas de arte. También, mi pieza no destruye la propiedad.

El propósito de mi mural es mostrar la paz en el barrio y apoderar la felicidad. Roxborough muestra la seguridad en la comunidad y es un es un ejemplo de la mayoría de las personas vivir una vida buena.  La motive para mi mural es yo vive en el barrio para mi vida toda. Yo veo comó mi barrio es todo diferente desde los otros barrios en Filadelfia. Las personas mostrarán la felicidad con un otro. ¿Qué será en mi mural? Usaré palabras de inteligentes y la paz… posiblemente. En segundo pensamiento, no tendré palabras en mi mural. La imagen puede mostrar el mensaje por sí mismo.

Yo soy... yo no se me llamo. No puedo recordar. Yo no viví en una casa por un tiempo largo. Yo soy el robo dinero hacer una vida. Estoy terrible, pero con esta vida, yo tengo una opción.

Cuando tengo problemas académicos de Calculus (matemáticas), sé que puedo hablar con el o el puede hablar con mi. Señor Latimer da dar consejos en que hacer en matemáticas eso yo puedo entender matemáticas más.

Por eso, la respeto mucho y nos llevamos muy bien.

            “Are you from New York?”

            “No. I was born here in Philly. Why would I be from New York?”

“It sounds like you have a New York accent.”

            “No, I don’t. How could I have a New York accent?”

            “You just do.”

            This happened in school. Here in SLA. A few of my friends and I were playing games on our computers, typical. Then he says that. I would have never expected someone to say that I’m not from Philly just because of my accent. I was thinking this question after I left the conversation, “How would he know what a New York accent sounded?” On my latest trip to New York, I was thinking this. I couldn’t dilate any voice to see if it sounded like mine. I also found out that New Yorkers were pretty damn arrogant.

            So, let’s get back on topic. Now I think this is a huge regret I feel and maybe my Dad as well. If only I could fluent Spanish like my Dad, but unfortunately, I can’t. It was probably my Dad’s and my greatest mistake in life. He wanted his son to speak Spanish like him, and I wanted to speak to him in perfectly, fluent Spanish like Dad, yet I cannot say a phrase in Spanish with confidence. I want to say what I’ve learned in Spanish class, but I’m always worried I may say the wrong thing. I am thinking right now how some people say I’m Italian. If only I could speak Spanish, prove them wrong. They would be scratching their heads, saying, “What did you just say?” I would say, “I just said ‘I am not Italian. I’m Puerto Rican’ in ‘Español’ or Spanish to you guys.” I just wish I could be a bilingual, speaking English and Spanish, but I think it’s too late to be that.

Here’s something I can think about my dialect. Does my dialect intersect with my identity? Yes and No. Now I said yes because there are times when people question my dialect. There are questions or comments like the example I have on the top of the first page, or there can ask…

“Why does your accent sound like that?”

“You sound stupid!”

“Well, I was born with accent like this, and I am damn mighty proud of it.” No, I don’t say that line, but that’s what I think about. Now it gets a little sentimental. When I was going through a bit of depression through one of my summer break, (7^th grade I believe), I thought the bad things that was said to me through my current 8 years at my old school, and I would think I sounded stupid. The way I spoke, probably made some of my “classmates” lose respect for me (that is if they had any respect in the first place.) I said no because since that “New York” accent questioning, I have not been made fun of my accent or commented on my accent for a while. I can’t remember the last thing that someone said to me about my accent in a negative way. Probably 7^th was the last time I heard something about my accent. In 8^th, it was about personality, but that’s different story.

            Now this maybe interesting. When my current 10^th grade teacher taught us about a relationship between language and power, I thought there was no relationship at all, but once we got into the discussion, I had second thoughts. Yeah, that was kind of obvious. Any whom, there was a good point when you would have a president who would speak formally than informally. For example, if Barack Obama spoke like, “Yo, what’s up, my fellow Americans,” than, “Good evening, my fellow Americans,” you would have thought twice to elect him as president in the first place. The thing is… having a slang could mean power, just not a chance for presidency. It could mean it on the streets. Gangs and clubs would be on the street with slang, and they show their power with that kind of tone. Politically speaking, you must speak formally (and learn to keep their promises); they can be president people look up to. Kind to think of it, what would happen if we did have a slangy president, but he still did good job while in office?

            Now I must admit, I think I may have a different public persona than an internal persona. Why do I think this? Well, I tend to have stage fright, a bit of it any way. When I want to speak up, I feel the words come into my head, but once I try to get the words out, they just dissolve from my mind and I cannot explain the situation, even though I had the words to explain it. Those who read this probably know what I feel. My internal persona is something else. This would kind of relate to an essay I read in English just before I typed all this into this log. The essay was by Richard Rodriguez, and the essay was called, “Hunger of Memory.” A quote from the essay, “In public, my father and mother spoke a hesitant, accented, not always grammatical English…” That’s what I meant. When Richard’s parents spoke in public, they would be a little hesitant. That’s how I feel. You try to say it, but you stammer and sputter like a car that ran out of gas, and then you don’t make a noise after all that, and you are thinking

“Miguel, wake up! It’s snowing!” My baby sister scared the heck out me, but in doing so, she got me up and running towards a nearby window. Pull the blinds up in a flash. It’s no lie. Snow was falling from the gray clouds in the sky above. Falling, falling beautifully. A smile appeared on my face. It was my first time seeing snow. Seeing snow reminds me what happened about a year ago.

I go back to Puerto Rico. It’s a place where you would never see snow down there. You’d see the beauty of the Tropics, the white sandy beaches, the crystal clear Caribbean Sea, palm trees swaying in the warm tropical wind that would flow over us. My community was a great community. My family and I knew everyone around us, and everyone knew my family and me. We would walk into stores for buying food, clothing, etc, and they would say hello or wave to us, and then we’d get into conversations about how has our day been, what’s been going in your life, the latest gossip, chats like that. (The gossip refers to my Mom.) My community was a community I loved. So if it was a good community, why did I leave Puerto Rico? It turns out I had no choice. Like all good things, they must come to an end. We struggled financially for a certain time. I knew it. We couldn’t make payments on our home. It wasn’t looking good.

We had to move out, but where? The answer was kind of obvious. The United States. We packed up what we needed, clothing, food, merchandise that mattered to us. Stuff like that. We made sure we didn’t forget the papers and passports. My Mom kept nagging Dad about it. One more of those, and Dad was ready to flip out. I was ready to flip out as well. I mean, I know she’s want to make sure we don’t forget anything we need, but it’s like she pokes us about it. She’s like “Hey, hey. You get the papers and passports. Did you? We can’t forget them.” Okay, we won’t the damn thing! I ready to here from Dad, but he never said it. Even when we got into the country, he stayed cool.

Speaking of coming into the country, America was a new experience for us. We entered JFK International Airport. That’s in New York City. We saw buildings reach up high in the sky, many automobiles, so many people in suits. There were so many things in New York City. However, there are some bad things in America I heard of. Lots of violence, an obesity problem (which was kind of obvious), and “party hooters.” The first night in our new American home, and the party hooters I told you about, yeah… it was a rough night for our family. At first I didn’t think this could work.

5 days being in our new home, I told Mom, “I don’t this could work.” She asked what I meant. I told her, “We moving to America. I mean it’s been rough these past few weeks.” Mom gave me a solution that she thought right off the top of her. “Give it time.”

With that, I think about these past months of being here, and well… she was right. Aren’t all moms right? Anyway, Mom finds a job at the New York Times headquarters. She works in a normal cubical like any other person in office. She just checks and edits a person’s article. Sounds boring. Here this, because of her work on, she got promoted to being the editor’s secretary. Dad has a job on art. I must have forgotten to mention that Dad is an artist. Loves to draw, paint, anything to make his art pop out, to inspire, to… make you feel. Apparently, what happen to start of Dad’s new art career. He made an art store on corner of where we live now, and a contractor comes into his store (I’m saying it from him), he said the contractor loved his art. Every art piece in the store had a theme to it. He offered him a deal that Dad could not refuse. He would sell his art around the world, to art museums, galleries, etc. He would supply him with his own art materials. Hearing all this from Mom and Dad, I’m like, “Wow.” I’m just amazed that we have come Puerto Rico in a financial crisis, and here we are. School is working out for me, too. I made good friends during these past months. I even showed them one of Dad’s paintings, I hear ooh’s and aah’s. One of my teachers said, “It’s remarkable. Your Dad must have an incredible mind to make such fantastic imagery.”

So yeah, I miss Puerto Rico, my old friends, my old community, but I have a new community that I like now. It’s my new home, have new friends, and I experience a weather change up here as well. I’m so use to warmth of Puerto Rico. Now I have to get used to cold winters, but at least I see a new kind of precipitation. And I can do cool activities in it as well. So I guess that wraps up my internal monologue. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going sledding.

¿De Dondé eres?

·      ¿De Dondé eres? (th thon-day air-res): Where are you from?

·      Pero vivo en (Per-ro Be-bo in): I live in...

·      Soy de (Soy thay): I’m from...

·      Yo, también (Jo, tom-be-en): Me, too

¿Qué hora es?

·      ¿Qué hora es/son? (kay or-a s/son): What time is it?

·      Es la una (s lah oo-na): It’s one o’clock

·      Son las dos, tres, cuatro,... (son lahs): It’s two, three, four,... through twelve o’clock

·      Numeros: Uno (oo-no): 1, Dos (dohs): 2, Tres (trehs): 3, Cuatro (Qua-tro): 4, Cinco (sinko): 5, Sies (says): 6, Siete (see-eh-tay): 7, Ocho ( Oh-cho): 8, Nueve (nu-a-vay): 9, Diez (Dee-ez): 10, Once (Own-say): 11,  Doce (Doh-say): 12

·      Y cuarto (e quar-to): Quarter after

·      Y media (e may-dee-a): Half

·      Menos (Men-nohs): Minutes before

¿Qué tiempo hace hoy?

·      ¿Qué tiempo hace hoy? (kay tee-m-poe ah-say oy): What is the temperture?

·      Hace frio / calor / viento / sol (ah-say free-oh / cah-lor / ben-toe / soul): It’s freezing / hot / windy / sunny

·      Bastanté (Ba-ston-tay): very

·      Está nublado / lloviendo / nevando (new-blah-doh / jo-be-end-do / ne-van-do): It’s cloudy / rainy / snowy

·      Llueve (lu-ay-vay): Very rainy

·      Nieva (nee-a-va): Very snowy

·      Humedad (oo-meh-dad): Humid

·      Grados (grah-dohs): Degrees