Onto the much more extensive part of things I'm grateful for: the magnificent people in my life. I promise I tried to keep it short and sweet, but I mean hey, here you go.
Mami: You have always been my #1 fan. You've sacrificed so much just to make us happy and you work so, so incredibly hard. You've redefined the word "woman" for me and taught me that I am just as good as anyone else. You taught me humility and pride; love and caution; fun and responsibility. You may be an inch shorter than me but you sure as heck are the most badass person I know. Te quiero de aquí hasta la luna <3
Papi: Where do I even begin? You just get me. You get me more than anyone else on this planet. We share the same spirit and that allows us to bond over music and theatre and writing and art and poetry and feelings and experiences and you believe in me more than I believe in myself. You've always been there for hugs and kisses and food and dad jokes and I cannot express how much I miss you already now that we're on opposite hemispheres, but Cambodia will do you good. Please continue too seek the beauty in everything. You're really good at that.
Yan Diego: Goddamn, you are a pain in the ass. And yet I still find myself missing you every day we're apart. You were my first companion and role model (not so much anymore XD) but even though we've both grown, I still look up to you occasionally, believe it or not. Thanks for not letting me travel alone 'cuz you know it freaks me out. Even with all the insults, you still make me laugh more than anyone else I know, so thanks for making me pee myself in public, I guess. Here's to many more years of mischievous rivalry and unconditional support. You're allright.
Javier: I'd never call you this to your face, seeing as you're turning eleven in January, but you're my little munchkin. Sure, you're a pest, as all little brothers are, but you're my pest, and you are most definitely the sweetest one out there. You're gonna break lots of hearts, that's for sure. Please don't ever let anyone tell you who to be, okay, bud? You wanna dance? You dance. You wanna sing? You sing. You wanna be the most kickass, multitalented kid in the world? Go right on ahead. Don't let anyone stop you. I continue to be so proud of you each and every day and I am beyond honored to call you my baby brother.
Suki: You're not actually a person, but you might as well be. I adore you, my little peanut rat. You've got a heart of pure gold. It probably weighs more than the rest of you. Missing you endlessly.
Abuelo: You are my hero <3
The Fam: Y'all are the loudest and touchiest group of people I know. Much love.
Madrina y Padrino: No se imaginan lo duro que sería todo esto sin ustedes. Los quiero un montón.
Pri: Vieja, tu y yo llevamos siglos. Se que casi nunca nos vemos pero tu sabes que te quiero y que te apoyo ahora y siempre <3 Vas a llegar super lejos, de eso estoy segura.
CJS: Goodness, all I can say is you're my best friend. I can't go a minute thinking about you without smiling. I am so, so lucky to have someone like you love someone like me. You put up with all my crazy and don't mind one bit. You make me feel beautiful and giddy and special and exciting and intelligent, even when I don't feel it myself. Thank you for staying up at all hours of the night just to talk to me, and for reminding me to chill when I'm winding myself up, and for going out of your way to make sure you see me at least once a day, and for your hugs and your jokes and for teaching me something new everyday. Thank you for always putting a smile on my face and for being a dork and for making me so so so happy. I love you so much.
Claire: Oh Claire Bear, what can I even say that you don't already know? You're my big sister. You know that and everyone else knows that. We keep each other grounded and we make sure to brighten up the other's day when we can. You've given me a home away from home and have become a part of my ever-growing support network and you have absolutely no idea how much that means to me. Thank you for taking me shopping and jams in the car and buying me food and coming to my shows. Thanks for the lazy Saturdays just chillin' in my bed, tumblring and geeking about Hamilton, among other things. You're honestly the loveliest and anyone who has ever had the pleasure to make your acquaintance should be greatly honored. Also, thank you for eating my candy for me so I don't get fat <3 Greatly appreciated.
Caellum: I am so thankful for this past year; it's allowed us to grow as friends and I honestly could not have managed fall term without your constant support. We get each other on so many levels; there're hardly enough words to express it. You've always been there. You've always been patient with me. You've never pushed me away even when I got annoying as heck. We've been through a lot together, believe it or not. Your puns and hugs and company are enough. Thank you thank you thank you. I love you dearly.
Shelby: YOU ARE MY FAVORITE! Words cannot express how glad I am to have gotten to know you in such a short amount of time. Your daily messages make my day and never cease to make me smile. Thanks for not thinking I'm an old lady for using Pinterest and thank you for sending me a letter all the way from Texas. I cannot wait to finally meet you so we can chill and have lots of fun :) You're always reminding me of this but this time I'm reminding you: please never forget how talented and capable you are. We're allowed to make mistakes. We're allowed to have bad days. It doesn't make us any less brilliant. You're going to change a lot of lives, trust me <3
Gibb: Sitka, you already know how much you mean to me. No use in writing paragraphs about our history ('cuz I've already done that before XD). Instead, I just wanted to say thanks for still picking up the phone regardless of what time it is and for not pushing me away. I love you to infinity and banana.
Maeve: My beautiful, talented, courageous Maeve. You're obviously kicking ass at school (just as I knew you would) and even though we don't necessarily talk as much anymore, I know you're still there if I ever need you. That's how you know who your real friends are—you can go days and weeks and occasionally months without speaking to them, and yet when you pick back up, it's just where you left off, as if no time had passed at all. That's what it feels like with you. Thanks for letting me come to you with awkward, childish questions and for being my mom and for reminding me of what I'm capable of. You're absolutely fantastic. We need to chill sometime.
Max: Oh my dearest Maximiliana, you are the only thing I look forward to at the end of the day. Those five minutes talking to you before housemeeting mean so much more than you know, especially when I'm crumbling with stress. You converted me to the dyed hair cult and I guess there's no turning back now. Thanks for the sass and for letting me bitch to you about people and/or things. Your perpetual badassery is an inspiration to all, let me tell you. Winter term I gotta actually hang out with you, okay? It must be done.
Tom: Eff you and your talent and smiles and hugs. You're actually the best, Tom. Don't let my lack of words throw you off, like you are actually the greatest. Please visit soon <3
Sophia: You are a goddess. It'd take a fool not to see that. You continue to inspire me every day through your talent, hard work and dedication. Thank you for being the greatest blessing EHX has ever had. I am blessed to have you in my life and I am so glad you let me be a part of yours. Please don't forget about me when you're rich and famous and have like 60 Grammys in your basement.
Tiernan: It still shocks me how you're on the complete opposite side of the country for most of the year and yet you still wow me with your sage advice. I miss your cuddles and your teasing more than anything. Please please pleaseeeee come back when you can, yeah?
Fonts: You know how the story goes. You're my rock and all. The end.
Hannah Banana Banderbob: Bae, you are my one and only. Don't tell anyone but you are by far my favorite roommate. I adore your sugar highs just as much as you despise them and your constant studiousness and determination inspires me to be my best self everyday. Your puppy chow and pumpkin bread are to die for. Thank you for telling me when I look like trash and for putting up with my meltdowns and my craziness and every time I squeal about Conor and/or food. I sure lucked out with you, boo #TheFruits <3
Amber: You crazy, soulless Asian. I love you with all my heart. Thanks for putting up with all the shit I give you and for not kicking me out of your room in the middle of study hall when I get obnoxious and distracting XD We hate the same things and we both swear more than others give us credit for. What a solid bond we have. Please continue to slay as you do. Te quiero.
Scott: You, sir, make my life immensely more entertaining, that's for sure. Your hugs and ridiculous jokes and your sass continuously make my day and the fact that you are now a part of EHX makes me wanna squeal every time I think about it. Please don't ever leave me alone 'cuz a life without Scott Powell seems kinda depressing to be honest.
Alasdaire: Babe, you are insane. The fact that Benet's walls are so thin lets me eavesdrop on your ridiculous conversations with my favorite Asian (I'd hardly call it eavesdropping though since y'all are always screaming at each other). Either way, thanks for making me feel smart and for being a more-than-decent lab partner for Bio. Couldn't have done it without you.
Meagan K: MegMeg, how you make me smile. Your patience with me is unbelievable and you stuck with me while we endured the horrors of BrayBray and rehearsal. That alone deserves an award. You are so talented at what you do, please don't let anyone dictate your dreams, okay? Go get 'em, ese.
Emma Kerr: I still refuse to believe that you're taller than me. I also refuse to believe that you are any older than eleven. You, kiddo, are growing more talented and more beautiful every day and I am so proud of you, okay? Never forget that.
Emmalene: For some reason I keep referring to you as my fairy godmother. Thanks for always making me feel like a princess.
Nayte: From Bonin's freshman Lit squad, to Geometry with Ruda, to Algebra with Mr. C and Bonin's Junior Lit. You've always stood by me and endured it all. Go team.
Elise Banderob: Lowkey my favorite freshman. Thanks for letting us in on all the amateur drama and being our eyes on the inside XD
Jay Gibb: My dude, your hugs are life. Thanks for letting me embarrass you in front of your freshman friends xo
Ellie D: Thanks for hating the same people as I do and for being a super chill prefect. Oh! And for putting baby powder in our beds. That was heaven.
Kevin Jiang: Your passive agressiveness and sass alone could kill. You keep doing you, gurl.
David Oh: I still have to beat you up. Don't worry, I'll take it easy on you <3
Brandt: We need to catch up. I haven't seen you in centuries.
She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named: Thanks for giving all of PAS a common enemy.
Haidy: You are the craziest Korean I know. God bless you child.
Jerry and Liam: You guys are definitely my favorite new additions to EHX.
James Briand: You're gonna go far, my friend. Keep doing what you do.
Megan M: You're the cutest and I love you to bits.
Matt Johnson: Your high fives are the greatest.
Will Kim: Can we get Will in here? Of course we can.
Anne from Stillman: Thanks for always asking how my day is going and for stealing me cookies when no one's watching and for wishing me happy holidays every time I leave. Your work does not go unappreciated.
Mr. McCarthy: The fact that you can call me nothing but Mia-Maya-Moya every single time you see me is impressive. You're a pretty fab advisor if I do say so myself. Thanks for using your kids as slave labor to make us food.
Dr. Davidge: You know what's up.
Bragan: Man, do you get on my nerves but you sure manage to pull off a great show.
Marilyn: I've lucked out in terms of costumes. You've managed to make me look decent in 5/6 shows so far. I'd say that's a good run.
Mrs. Smith: The fact that you don't hate me still amazes me, to be honest. Oh, and thank you for letting me date your son :)
Mrs. Bonin: You believe in my shine. Please don't let the brilliance fizzle out.
All State Judges: Holy crap thank you for choosing me.
Tyler Oakley and Zoe Sugg: How you make me laugh and smile.
Catbug: You're my friend now. We're having soft tacos later.
CryWolf: Your voice and lyrics follow me into my dreams, sometimes.
Ed Sheeran: Thanks for listening to me weep and stuff.
Johnny Depp: I swear, you're a human shape-shifter.
Emma Watson: You flawless woman, you.
Brennan's: Thank you for adopting Yan Diego into your family. Hannah means the world to him.
Doires: Oh my, my, my... The fact that you have an entire room in your house that I claim as mine must say something, right? You guys have been incredibly generous to me and my family and for that I am immensely grateful.
Mama and Papa Kerr: I think you both already know how thankful I am for y'all, but I'm gonna go ahead and say it anyway. You are my parents away from home and the fact that I get to see you throughout the day makes life at the Abbey a lot easier to bear. Thank you for adopting me and for your constant love and support. I love you guys.
My Angels in the Sky: Please continue to watch over me.
God: Thank you for listening to my prayers.
I am so blessed.
Hasta la próxima,
Much love xoxo
Maya
Thursday, November 26, 2015
Turkey Day List #1
Thanks Claire for letting me steal your idea without your permission <3
Nonetheless, here are a few of the many things I am grateful for this year:
Singing: I could not go a day without you.
Poetry: For putting my thoughts and feelings into words without even asking.
Movies: For beckoning me over (even when I should be doing homework) and wrapping me up in your stories, good or bad.
Disney: For reminding me of the child that lives on inside all of us.
Hair Dye: For ridding me of my goody-two-shoes-ness.
Meds: For making my life a hell of a lot easier.
Berklee: For the excitement, suspense, and the drive that makes us pull through.
PAS: For accepting me and letting me find some of the most amazing people I've ever met in my entire life.
The Stairwell: For holding some of my dearest memories.
Claire's House: For being my safe haven away from school.
Twin's House: For hosting the most legendary game of Sardines the world has ever known.
Custom House: Even though I never visit you, I know you're always there <3
Late night walks around campus: For bringing me down to earth and reminding me that I am still human.
Abbey Drama: For letting me skip sports. It does not go unappreciated.
Claire & Maya Week 2015: For the endless adventures and excursions that would not have been possible otherwise.
Sun, Wind, Moon, Sky: You never cease to amaze me.
This Blog: For making me feel a part of something bigger that might perhaps be worth it in the end.
Hasta la próxima,
Much love xoxo
Maya
Nonetheless, here are a few of the many things I am grateful for this year:
Singing: I could not go a day without you.
Disney: For reminding me of the child that lives on inside all of us.
Hair Dye: For ridding me of my goody-two-shoes-ness.
Meds: For making my life a hell of a lot easier.
Ice Cream: For being a constant source of joy in my life. Especially on Mondays and Fridays.
My Cat Onesie: For keeping me warm and cuddly.
Mr. Bunny: For sticking around all these years and not minding when you end up on the floor.
My Crazy Dreams: For reminding me of why I want to become a writer and for making really good stories at dinner.
My Crazy Dreams: For reminding me of why I want to become a writer and for making really good stories at dinner.
Music: For bringing me sanity when I have none.
Technology: For allowing me to stay in touch with my nearest and dearest.
Technology: For allowing me to stay in touch with my nearest and dearest.
My Red Converse: For making me feel like a cool kid since day 1, freshman year.
Sitka's Green Bracelet: For reminding me that you'll always be my big brother.
Sitka's Green Bracelet: For reminding me that you'll always be my big brother.
Post its: Without you, I might as well forget my head.
Hamlet: For being my most recent discovery of pure genius.
Pinterest: For keeping track of my future wedding plans XD
Tumblr: For wasting most of my time but keeping me inspired everyday.
PAS: For accepting me and letting me find some of the most amazing people I've ever met in my entire life.
The Stairwell: For holding some of my dearest memories.
Room E: For listening to me cry of heartache and squeal with joy.
Auditorium: For letting me feel like a star over and over again.
Kerr Basement: What a fantastic little cave you are.
Auditorium: For letting me feel like a star over and over again.
Twin's House: For hosting the most legendary game of Sardines the world has ever known.
Custom House: Even though I never visit you, I know you're always there <3
Late night walks around campus: For bringing me down to earth and reminding me that I am still human.
Abbey Drama: For letting me skip sports. It does not go unappreciated.
Sun, Wind, Moon, Sky: You never cease to amaze me.
This Blog: For making me feel a part of something bigger that might perhaps be worth it in the end.
Hasta la próxima,
Much love xoxo
Maya
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Tuesday Evenings
Tuesday Evenings
Maya Wilson
She sat down by the stone wall,
Feet dangling off into nothingness.
She felt his presence beside her and
Smiled.
He shot her a lopsided grin which forced her
To laugh. It wasn't bad.
A few moments of silence were followed by a
Stream of giggles she couldn't turn off.
This made him laugh and that made her
Happy.
It was dark out, but she could still see
His eyes
And the stars and the planes in the sky.
They found themselves looking up,
Otherwise stealing glances at each other
And it was nice. It was good.
Somehow, her head found its way to his shoulder
And what she'd give to stay like that for just a while longer.
It was peaceful. It was good.
The air was brisk and the wind nipped at her nose but
The warmth she felt there, sitting next to him, was worth it.
Sometimes, all she could hear was his breathing and
Her own heartbeat but
Somehow that was enough.
All was well.
Things would be okay.
Thursday, October 29, 2015
Exceptional
Good isn't good enough.
It never has been.
Not for me.
You'd think that after nearly sixteen years on this earth I'd understand the whole concept of "humans aren't perfect". Clearly, my brain has an entirely different opinion—that others are allowed to be imperfect; that others are allowed to make mistakes, but not me. Somehow, out of all seven billion humans on this planet, my mind decided that I am the only one that needs to appeal to a different standard. A higher standard.
Does that make me sound like an arrogant, pretentious bastard? Hell yeah, it probably does. But my point here isn't to be polite or be cautious with my words. Screw it, I'm just gonna let my thoughts do the typing from now on.
I try really hard. And before you cut me off here, I mean I try really, really fucking hard to do well. To be good, that is. At everything.
It took me a few years to accept the fact that I wasn't always gonna be the best. Again, I must sound like I think I'm King of the World or Head Bitch or something but that's really not what I mean.
Growing up, I was the angel child. Perfect, sweet little Maya. Could never hurt a fly. Couldn't do a wrong thing in the world. I went to bed on time and ate most of my vegetables and wiped my feet on the mat before going inside and never broke any promises and cleaned my room and finished all my homework and most of all, I kept my parents happy. I was the child all parents wish they could brag about. I got good grades, I was friendly to other kids, I always said please and thank you, I made eye contact, I smiled and nodded, I was relatively talented, I checked all the boxes that spelt "perfect".
Despite these things, I was always a little bit off, a little too eccentric, a little too different. I found out that I felt things more than others. I wasn't sure why.
Pre-K, I remember the teacher telling me it wasn't nice to bump into that kid during snack time. In reality, it had just been an accident, but the teacher had misunderstood and thought I'd shoved myself into Yasmine. I could've sworn I hadn't. Tears sprang to my eyes at the thought of being chastised and at the thought of hurting someone else. You did bad, Maya. You did bad.
So Ms. Karen put me in a time-out and I cried my entire way through the ten minutes. I remember saying sorry over and over and over, that "No, Ms. Karen, you don't understand—I'm really, really sorry, and I won't ever do it again!" She kept saying she understood, that it was okay, that I didn't need to apologize anymore but she really didn't understand. I was apologizing for being bad, yes, but I was also apologizing for failing to be perfect. I was what... five? Almost over a decade ago.
Yet the same things apply now.
For a consecutive six years, I got the highest GPA in my grade. I was used to receiving honor roll and certificates and diplomas and medals. I'd hear other students talk about how their parents were going to buy them a new phone if they got a 80 on their Social Studies test. I didn't even own a phone.
See, the thing is everyone acted like Maya getting 99s in every class was normal, like it was easy. Not trying to victimize myself here but just how easy did they think the pressure I put on myself was? It certainly didn't come from my parents. They were always the "get good grades but don't stress, just do your best" type. My brain thought that was bullshit. Whatever voice I had inside my head screamed that everyone would be disappointed if I didn't succeed. And eventually I started to believe it. So I worked my ass off and stressed about the impossible and the irrational.
I always concluded that in the end, no matter what I did, people would hate me.
I'm not sure why that was always end game for me, but it was. That's the only thing I was always 100% set on, no matter how wrong I was.
I think my parents got a bit too used to my success because sometimes they'd walk in on me hyperventilating over sheet music and wonder what was wrong.
"Maya, why on earth are you stressed about this song? You've sung it a hundred times!"
But it's not fucking perfect yet. I have to get it right. I need to. I need to. I need to.
It probably didn't help that I was in about a thousand extracurriculars because again, I felt the need to accomplish as much as possible and keep people on my good side and maintain a flawless reputation, bla bla bla. But I kept smiling and laughing at people's dumb jokes and handing out empty compliments until I turned into the most tasteless, impartial and bland human on earth. I had entirely forgotten who I was. I knew damn well who I wanted to be. Unfortunately that goal will forever be realistically unattainable. Oh well.
I had physically become the scum of the earth. A liar. A poser. A fake.
Or at least that's what the voice inside my head told me. Whether it's true or not is another matter entirely.
At some point when I was fairly young, I discovered that I was talented. Not like my brother, no—I couldn't draw. Or perhaps, maybe I could, but everyone was always so intent on calling Yan Diego the artist that I gave up before I had even started.
So I decided to be talented in something else.
I wasn't coordinated enough to play a sport, so that was out of the question.
I did ballet for a while and I was pretty good at that.
I liked to read but I didn't consider reading a real talent.
With reading came writing but I thought that people would get bored from looking at words for too long, so I refrained from showing anyone my work.
Then I found out I could sing. And that was pretty cool.
Then I found out other people could sing, too. So I decided I had to be better than them. I had to be special.
No, I had to be exceptional.
I was (am) so afraid that I wouldn't be remembered, or worse—remembered for being the absolute worst human on earth.
I wanted so badly for some part of me to stick out. I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to be clever, I wanted to be smart. I wanted to be good.
I wanted to be fucking exceptional, you see, but I didn't quite realize yet that there would always be someone far better, and always be someone far worse.
But no, I had to be at the top. Grades, friends, family. I had to be on top. I had to be in control. I had to control things. I had to be able to get a say, to have a choice, a voice—
Then I became best friends with someone truly exceptional. She was beauty. She was smarts. She was wit. She was talent.
To this day, we are still good friends. But she was always exceptional. And that hurt.
The thing is it shouldn't. Why the fuck should I care? I should be happy for her, goddammit. Not bitter about what I can't be. Yet she was always better, better, better.
Two things happened at once: my inflated ego (or so it seemed) had reduced itself to the size of a pea, and at the same time, I demanded that much more from myself.
Maya get with the program. Shoulders back. Head high. Louder voice. Wider smile.
Fuck it. That was me for so long. It was always me against her, except she didn't really know about the competition. She just did things and they were right.
Somewhere along the way to highschool I snapped. Exceptional was just too fucking hard. So why was I still pursuing it? Why was this so important to me?
Oh right. Parents. Happy. Good grades=good college=good job=success=financial stability.
I somehow felt and still feel responsible for their happiness. Not just theirs. Everyone's.
That's why I wanted to be perfect.
Not for me.
Okay maybe a little for me.
But I wanted to be good for others. I wanted approval. I wanted to be great. I wanted people to love me.
I wanted to be kind. I wanted to be needed. God, I wanted to be needed. I didn't wanna feel useless.
The voice inside my head made me feel useless.
You ruin everything. You're no good. You're not enough.
You're not enough.
You're not enough.
I just want to be enough.
Do you love me?
Can I love you?
Is that okay?
Are you sure?
But I'm not who you think I am, I'm really not.
You shouldn't have me love you. You shouldn't love me.
Come back please.
No wait.
Please come back.
Love me love me love me love me love me please.
I'm trying.
And so goes the rest of the conversations I have in my head.
In short, to whom it may concern, I am a lot better now than the picture I painted here. Granted, I have my moments, but for the most part I don't really care about being exceptional anymore. Not really.
I wasn't really writing this for any reason in particular other than needing to go on a rant by myself with no interruptions. The page doesn't interrupt. Thanks page.
Might as well post my feelings to the internet because that's always a fantastic idea, right?
Hasta la próxima,
Much love xoxo
Maya
It never has been.
Not for me.
You'd think that after nearly sixteen years on this earth I'd understand the whole concept of "humans aren't perfect". Clearly, my brain has an entirely different opinion—that others are allowed to be imperfect; that others are allowed to make mistakes, but not me. Somehow, out of all seven billion humans on this planet, my mind decided that I am the only one that needs to appeal to a different standard. A higher standard.
Does that make me sound like an arrogant, pretentious bastard? Hell yeah, it probably does. But my point here isn't to be polite or be cautious with my words. Screw it, I'm just gonna let my thoughts do the typing from now on.
I try really hard. And before you cut me off here, I mean I try really, really fucking hard to do well. To be good, that is. At everything.
It took me a few years to accept the fact that I wasn't always gonna be the best. Again, I must sound like I think I'm King of the World or Head Bitch or something but that's really not what I mean.
Growing up, I was the angel child. Perfect, sweet little Maya. Could never hurt a fly. Couldn't do a wrong thing in the world. I went to bed on time and ate most of my vegetables and wiped my feet on the mat before going inside and never broke any promises and cleaned my room and finished all my homework and most of all, I kept my parents happy. I was the child all parents wish they could brag about. I got good grades, I was friendly to other kids, I always said please and thank you, I made eye contact, I smiled and nodded, I was relatively talented, I checked all the boxes that spelt "perfect".
Despite these things, I was always a little bit off, a little too eccentric, a little too different. I found out that I felt things more than others. I wasn't sure why.
Pre-K, I remember the teacher telling me it wasn't nice to bump into that kid during snack time. In reality, it had just been an accident, but the teacher had misunderstood and thought I'd shoved myself into Yasmine. I could've sworn I hadn't. Tears sprang to my eyes at the thought of being chastised and at the thought of hurting someone else. You did bad, Maya. You did bad.
So Ms. Karen put me in a time-out and I cried my entire way through the ten minutes. I remember saying sorry over and over and over, that "No, Ms. Karen, you don't understand—I'm really, really sorry, and I won't ever do it again!" She kept saying she understood, that it was okay, that I didn't need to apologize anymore but she really didn't understand. I was apologizing for being bad, yes, but I was also apologizing for failing to be perfect. I was what... five? Almost over a decade ago.
Yet the same things apply now.
For a consecutive six years, I got the highest GPA in my grade. I was used to receiving honor roll and certificates and diplomas and medals. I'd hear other students talk about how their parents were going to buy them a new phone if they got a 80 on their Social Studies test. I didn't even own a phone.
See, the thing is everyone acted like Maya getting 99s in every class was normal, like it was easy. Not trying to victimize myself here but just how easy did they think the pressure I put on myself was? It certainly didn't come from my parents. They were always the "get good grades but don't stress, just do your best" type. My brain thought that was bullshit. Whatever voice I had inside my head screamed that everyone would be disappointed if I didn't succeed. And eventually I started to believe it. So I worked my ass off and stressed about the impossible and the irrational.
I always concluded that in the end, no matter what I did, people would hate me.
I'm not sure why that was always end game for me, but it was. That's the only thing I was always 100% set on, no matter how wrong I was.
I think my parents got a bit too used to my success because sometimes they'd walk in on me hyperventilating over sheet music and wonder what was wrong.
"Maya, why on earth are you stressed about this song? You've sung it a hundred times!"
But it's not fucking perfect yet. I have to get it right. I need to. I need to. I need to.
It probably didn't help that I was in about a thousand extracurriculars because again, I felt the need to accomplish as much as possible and keep people on my good side and maintain a flawless reputation, bla bla bla. But I kept smiling and laughing at people's dumb jokes and handing out empty compliments until I turned into the most tasteless, impartial and bland human on earth. I had entirely forgotten who I was. I knew damn well who I wanted to be. Unfortunately that goal will forever be realistically unattainable. Oh well.
I had physically become the scum of the earth. A liar. A poser. A fake.
Or at least that's what the voice inside my head told me. Whether it's true or not is another matter entirely.
At some point when I was fairly young, I discovered that I was talented. Not like my brother, no—I couldn't draw. Or perhaps, maybe I could, but everyone was always so intent on calling Yan Diego the artist that I gave up before I had even started.
So I decided to be talented in something else.
I wasn't coordinated enough to play a sport, so that was out of the question.
I did ballet for a while and I was pretty good at that.
I liked to read but I didn't consider reading a real talent.
With reading came writing but I thought that people would get bored from looking at words for too long, so I refrained from showing anyone my work.
Then I found out I could sing. And that was pretty cool.
Then I found out other people could sing, too. So I decided I had to be better than them. I had to be special.
No, I had to be exceptional.
I was (am) so afraid that I wouldn't be remembered, or worse—remembered for being the absolute worst human on earth.
I wanted so badly for some part of me to stick out. I wanted to be beautiful. I wanted to be clever, I wanted to be smart. I wanted to be good.
I wanted to be fucking exceptional, you see, but I didn't quite realize yet that there would always be someone far better, and always be someone far worse.
But no, I had to be at the top. Grades, friends, family. I had to be on top. I had to be in control. I had to control things. I had to be able to get a say, to have a choice, a voice—
Then I became best friends with someone truly exceptional. She was beauty. She was smarts. She was wit. She was talent.
To this day, we are still good friends. But she was always exceptional. And that hurt.
The thing is it shouldn't. Why the fuck should I care? I should be happy for her, goddammit. Not bitter about what I can't be. Yet she was always better, better, better.
Two things happened at once: my inflated ego (or so it seemed) had reduced itself to the size of a pea, and at the same time, I demanded that much more from myself.
Maya get with the program. Shoulders back. Head high. Louder voice. Wider smile.
Fuck it. That was me for so long. It was always me against her, except she didn't really know about the competition. She just did things and they were right.
Somewhere along the way to highschool I snapped. Exceptional was just too fucking hard. So why was I still pursuing it? Why was this so important to me?
Oh right. Parents. Happy. Good grades=good college=good job=success=financial stability.
I somehow felt and still feel responsible for their happiness. Not just theirs. Everyone's.
That's why I wanted to be perfect.
Not for me.
Okay maybe a little for me.
But I wanted to be good for others. I wanted approval. I wanted to be great. I wanted people to love me.
I wanted to be kind. I wanted to be needed. God, I wanted to be needed. I didn't wanna feel useless.
The voice inside my head made me feel useless.
You ruin everything. You're no good. You're not enough.
You're not enough.
You're not enough.
I just want to be enough.
Do you love me?
Can I love you?
Is that okay?
Are you sure?
But I'm not who you think I am, I'm really not.
You shouldn't have me love you. You shouldn't love me.
Come back please.
No wait.
Please come back.
Love me love me love me love me love me please.
I'm trying.
..........
And so goes the rest of the conversations I have in my head.
In short, to whom it may concern, I am a lot better now than the picture I painted here. Granted, I have my moments, but for the most part I don't really care about being exceptional anymore. Not really.
I wasn't really writing this for any reason in particular other than needing to go on a rant by myself with no interruptions. The page doesn't interrupt. Thanks page.
Might as well post my feelings to the internet because that's always a fantastic idea, right?
Hasta la próxima,
Much love xoxo
Maya
1898
1898
Maya Wilson
"It's on the third shelf," he said,
So I looked and found nothing but
An old copy of a Webster dictionary.
The year was 1908.
I couldn't recall anything special happening then
But then again, what if I was missing something?
"It's on the third shelf," he said,
And his eyes were so sure of it.
They doubted nothing and something
In them said: believe me.
I searched again but only found a postcard.
1898. Brooklyn. She says she loves you.
So there was a woman but who was she
And why did he care so much?
"It's on the third shelf," he said.
Now there was a tiny little box
Engraved: Angel.
I almost didn't dare open it but his
Eyes were so sure and his words so pure
That I snapped off the lid and
Let the most precious stone I've ever seen
Fall to the ground with a thud.
Her name was Denise.
Grandaddy said he'd marry her one day
But the next, she ran away and left
Nothing but the scent of her hair.
Peaches and sugar.
"It's on the third shelf," he said,
And again, it was good ol' Webster,
This time with a bookmark.
The word was love.
"Hold to it, my boy; you'll never know it 'til it leaves ya," he said.
Then Grandaddy stood up and went.
Sunday, October 18, 2015
Well Worth The Pain
Hi.
It's been a while.
I have several posts that were meant to be published before this one but I'm afraid this particular one couldn't wait.
Empathy... It's a horrifyingly beautiful thing. I'd like to believe most relatively "sane" people on this earth possess at least an ounce of it. This could be considered the human standard or minimum decency level.
I happen to possess about five tons of it. And sometimes, that can be the hardest thing in the world.
Forgive me as I go off on a tangent here, but I don't think I could ever explain how much hurt I feel when another is in pain. Instinctually, I care about everything that moves or breathes or lives or simply is. I develop a protectiveness over them all—hoping, in vain, that I can shelter each and every one of them from that which causes them pain.
I don't tend to talk about it unless we're super close but I've played my fair share of battles against depression and anxiety. I can proudly say I've come a long way compared to where I used to be. So yes, I am genuinely proud of myself.
Good job, Maya.
I am in a happier place than I used to be.
But, that does not mean that the darkest corners of my brain have ceased to exist. No, they're still very much alive but I rarely stumble across them anymore. Most of the occupied area of my mind shines with uncontainable light, generally blinding anyone who dares enter it. My point being, I hold far too much happy inside of me that it confuses some people XD That being said, those who do have the pleasure, if not "interesting experience" of meeting my mind, are often delighted by the brightness there. I like to think I'm full of sunshine and squirrels and ice cream and happy thoughts.
Still, there are times when stress or sadness or anger get the better of me, and so I retreat back to the dark, secluded corners of my brain. I haven't dusted up there in a long while so for the most part, it just makes me sneeze.
Hah. I made a joke. See, 'cuz you sneeze when you feel sick and being up in the attic of my brain makes me feel sick, get it?
I'm not really sure how to describe it to you.
It feels cold. Sort of like the wind felt outside today. The kind where you wish you had on gloves and a hat or wish that you'd brought an extra coat. You sit there on the floor—by yourself—and you begin to wonder if you really are alone and whether these dust bunnies and cobwebs just keep appearing or whether you keep putting them there? After a few minutes, you think you're starting to feel peaceful, even though you're alone, except your eyes aren't accustomed to the dark yet—not in the least—but you don't want to be sitting on the ground anymore so you get up and explore. It doesn't take you long to realize you've come to the front of a door. You're not sure how it got there and you're not sure where it will take you but curiosity takes the better of you, so you push it open. You've now entered somewhere more quiet—more peaceful—yet this place drowns in darkness you've never even dreamed of. Your eyes can't perceive any depth whatsoever so you reach out your hands to feel out the walls. You're in a maze. You turn left; there's no exit. You turn right a couple times; there's no exit.You're in there for what feels like hours and by now you wish you hadn't strayed from the original door. You hear the dull sound of something slamming shut. Slowly, but growing in intensity, the slamming is nearing you. It's chasing you. It's dark, the walls are closing in, the slamming is muffling your shouts. You can't get out. You can't get out. You can't get out. Your chest heaves gulps of air in and out and in and out but it's only getting darker and now screams have joined the slamming but you can't tell if they're someone else's or your own. Your chest is on fire but you gotta keep breathing to survive. The sounds become deafening and before the worst is over you open your eyes and you're back in your little dark corner full of dust bunnies and moth balls and you wonder if you ever even moved from that spot in the first place?
I'm sorry if I got a bit sidetracked there.
Back to my point: empathy. It's a bitch. A beautiful bitch, but a bitch nonetheless.
I've never had any children and I don't plan on it for a long while but I'd imagine empathy/protectiveness is 90% of what a mother—a parent—feels. It's like you want to shelter that someone from anything that could ever possibly go wrong. And if anything does go wrong, it's like you're experiencing the pain yourself. You want to wrap them up in a hug and never let them go. You want to shower them in kisses and tell them that they are loved. So so so loved. You want to tell them that they are not alone, that they are never alone and should never have to feel alone. You want to tell them that they are beautiful, and special, and clever, and loved. You want them to see themselves the way you see them: as a ray of sunshine or a shooting star or the moon or a sweater on a rainy day. You want them to feel so fucking happy and you want to sew up all the holes in their despair. You never want them to feel hopeless.
And so yes, I may have an excess of empathy, but no matter how much it drains me at times, I like to think I'm exceptionally lucky.
Not many human beings (that I know of) care so deeply for matters that don't even directly concern them. How lucky I am to love so unconditionally.
Because along with the bad times, come the good times, and it's the good times that I live for.
When someone scores their first goal; or when they hit that note they never thought they could reach; or when they play a piece so beautifully, I think I might cry; or when they finish a masterpiece that's taken them weeks to complete; or when they get an A on a test; or when they're excited about seeing a friend they haven't seen in months; or when they've had a fantastic night; or when they dance to their heart's content; or when they write a poem that leaves me speechless; or when they're giddy about eating a cupcake; or when you can just see the plain joy across their face, radiating from within; or when you see their simple smile that lights up the whole room.
Those are the moments that make it worth it. Those are the things that make all the pain so much more bearable.
Because there is so much pain in this world; so much misery; so much suffering. But I couldn't stand to live my whole life focusing on the negative.
Yes, there is pain. Yes, there is suffering. Yes, there is misery.
But there is also joy, and there is excitement, and there is bliss.
Feeling both isn't necessarily bad. It just means you're human.
And there you have it, folks. Just a few thoughts I've had on my mind for a while and thought I should share.
Hasta la proxima,
Much love xoxo
Maya
P.S: Thanks for toughing it out with me, C <3
It's been a while.
I have several posts that were meant to be published before this one but I'm afraid this particular one couldn't wait.
..........
Empathy... It's a horrifyingly beautiful thing. I'd like to believe most relatively "sane" people on this earth possess at least an ounce of it. This could be considered the human standard or minimum decency level.
I happen to possess about five tons of it. And sometimes, that can be the hardest thing in the world.
Forgive me as I go off on a tangent here, but I don't think I could ever explain how much hurt I feel when another is in pain. Instinctually, I care about everything that moves or breathes or lives or simply is. I develop a protectiveness over them all—hoping, in vain, that I can shelter each and every one of them from that which causes them pain.
I don't tend to talk about it unless we're super close but I've played my fair share of battles against depression and anxiety. I can proudly say I've come a long way compared to where I used to be. So yes, I am genuinely proud of myself.
Good job, Maya.
I am in a happier place than I used to be.
But, that does not mean that the darkest corners of my brain have ceased to exist. No, they're still very much alive but I rarely stumble across them anymore. Most of the occupied area of my mind shines with uncontainable light, generally blinding anyone who dares enter it. My point being, I hold far too much happy inside of me that it confuses some people XD That being said, those who do have the pleasure, if not "interesting experience" of meeting my mind, are often delighted by the brightness there. I like to think I'm full of sunshine and squirrels and ice cream and happy thoughts.
Still, there are times when stress or sadness or anger get the better of me, and so I retreat back to the dark, secluded corners of my brain. I haven't dusted up there in a long while so for the most part, it just makes me sneeze.
Hah. I made a joke. See, 'cuz you sneeze when you feel sick and being up in the attic of my brain makes me feel sick, get it?
I'm not really sure how to describe it to you.
It feels cold. Sort of like the wind felt outside today. The kind where you wish you had on gloves and a hat or wish that you'd brought an extra coat. You sit there on the floor—by yourself—and you begin to wonder if you really are alone and whether these dust bunnies and cobwebs just keep appearing or whether you keep putting them there? After a few minutes, you think you're starting to feel peaceful, even though you're alone, except your eyes aren't accustomed to the dark yet—not in the least—but you don't want to be sitting on the ground anymore so you get up and explore. It doesn't take you long to realize you've come to the front of a door. You're not sure how it got there and you're not sure where it will take you but curiosity takes the better of you, so you push it open. You've now entered somewhere more quiet—more peaceful—yet this place drowns in darkness you've never even dreamed of. Your eyes can't perceive any depth whatsoever so you reach out your hands to feel out the walls. You're in a maze. You turn left; there's no exit. You turn right a couple times; there's no exit.You're in there for what feels like hours and by now you wish you hadn't strayed from the original door. You hear the dull sound of something slamming shut. Slowly, but growing in intensity, the slamming is nearing you. It's chasing you. It's dark, the walls are closing in, the slamming is muffling your shouts. You can't get out. You can't get out. You can't get out. Your chest heaves gulps of air in and out and in and out but it's only getting darker and now screams have joined the slamming but you can't tell if they're someone else's or your own. Your chest is on fire but you gotta keep breathing to survive. The sounds become deafening and before the worst is over you open your eyes and you're back in your little dark corner full of dust bunnies and moth balls and you wonder if you ever even moved from that spot in the first place?
I'm sorry if I got a bit sidetracked there.
Back to my point: empathy. It's a bitch. A beautiful bitch, but a bitch nonetheless.
I've never had any children and I don't plan on it for a long while but I'd imagine empathy/protectiveness is 90% of what a mother—a parent—feels. It's like you want to shelter that someone from anything that could ever possibly go wrong. And if anything does go wrong, it's like you're experiencing the pain yourself. You want to wrap them up in a hug and never let them go. You want to shower them in kisses and tell them that they are loved. So so so loved. You want to tell them that they are not alone, that they are never alone and should never have to feel alone. You want to tell them that they are beautiful, and special, and clever, and loved. You want them to see themselves the way you see them: as a ray of sunshine or a shooting star or the moon or a sweater on a rainy day. You want them to feel so fucking happy and you want to sew up all the holes in their despair. You never want them to feel hopeless.
And so yes, I may have an excess of empathy, but no matter how much it drains me at times, I like to think I'm exceptionally lucky.
Not many human beings (that I know of) care so deeply for matters that don't even directly concern them. How lucky I am to love so unconditionally.
Because along with the bad times, come the good times, and it's the good times that I live for.
When someone scores their first goal; or when they hit that note they never thought they could reach; or when they play a piece so beautifully, I think I might cry; or when they finish a masterpiece that's taken them weeks to complete; or when they get an A on a test; or when they're excited about seeing a friend they haven't seen in months; or when they've had a fantastic night; or when they dance to their heart's content; or when they write a poem that leaves me speechless; or when they're giddy about eating a cupcake; or when you can just see the plain joy across their face, radiating from within; or when you see their simple smile that lights up the whole room.
Those are the moments that make it worth it. Those are the things that make all the pain so much more bearable.
Because there is so much pain in this world; so much misery; so much suffering. But I couldn't stand to live my whole life focusing on the negative.
Yes, there is pain. Yes, there is suffering. Yes, there is misery.
But there is also joy, and there is excitement, and there is bliss.
Feeling both isn't necessarily bad. It just means you're human.
..........
Hasta la proxima,
Much love xoxo
Maya
P.S: Thanks for toughing it out with me, C <3
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
On Crickets and Crayons and Wings
Well. Here concludes my first Abbey weekend, I guess.
I meant to write this post like three days ago (my bad....) but it appears I'd run out of time and energy.
So here I am.
Yesterday (Saturday, the 19th) was an interesting day. To kick it off, I handed in my first ever Overview for APUSH. That was a helluva relief.
After classes, Bray-Bray decided to cancel play practice, so that was awesome. I pretended like I was gonna do homework, but we all know that didn't happen. Sooner or later, I ended up in the Wing, where Abar decided to pop outta nowhere and make an appearance. It was really fun seeing him again :)
We went to dinner, where we met up with Claire, Brandt, Max, and the others. Eventually, Claire and I decided to head back to the dorm, except on the way, we bumped into a cozy little circle of people sitting out on the lawn, singing.
Now, this was weird. It was weird because it didn't consist of my little crew of favorite human beings. It wasn't our crew. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure this little group was full of lovely people, but the fact of the matter is they weren't my people.
They were a bunch of freshman and sophomores surrounding this one girl, Rory, who happens to be the younger sister of someone in my grade. Bottom line, her voice was insane. And by insane, I mean killer. And by killer, I mean she gave me chills.
And yes, I will admit—and I know y'all are gonna scold me for thinking like this so, I'm already ahead of you there—hearing her sing was a definite blow to the ego.
Her pipes were raspy, and unique, and loud, and those are all qualities I've struggled for years to try and learn to work on or live without.
Needless to say, I packed up my backpack and marched all the way back to the Wing, to sing until I felt better about myself.
I practiced EHX songs, I practiced my voice lesson songs, I tried learning a couple new songs by ear, I sang things to widen my range, I tried singing my favorites, I tried singing classics, I sang contemporary, I tried everything. In the end, I had a headache and some extremely sore vocal chords.
And yet, somehow I still felt overshadowed by this one, singular voice. A fucking beautiful voice, at that.
It wasn't until I couldn't feel my throat anymore and I was walking down the path back to my dorm, that I started to feel a little bit better.
I remembered this book I read when I was in kindergarten. It was about crayons.
Now, hear me out before you go ahead and skip reading this part.
It was about all the colors in the crayon box. And how all of them were beautiful.
Except no one ever wanted to use the white crayon. Cuz you can't use white crayons on white paper, duh (unless you're water coloring but that wasn't the point of this book.)
Spoiler alert: some kindergartener decides to draw on a black piece of paper that day and reaches for the white crayon. Oh, boy, did that crayon feel special.
I know, random anecdote of Maya's childhood literary choices, but my point is, this little story somehow felt more comforting than four hours of singing till my voice cracked like a 13-year-old boy's.
Despite having rushed to the Wing in a jolt of low self-esteem, I began to contemplate how much that basement of rooms means to me.
It's my little corner of the world. My space to do as I please and sing to my heart's content. Granted, I can only belt when the Wing is empty, so as not to disturb the peace, but that's besides the point.
I was on my way back to the dorm and by now the sky had gone pitch black.
Mr. Baron spoke to us earlier that day (or the day before) about not wasting moments.
Now, moments are curious. They come and go in flashes and just as we're about to grasp them, they disappear.
In that particular moment, I found myself sore, and cold, and in a bit of a sulky mood. So, instead of taking the easy way out, I decided to take a risk by leaving myself to my own thoughts. And nature. Mainly nature.
I made sure to walk reaaaaaaaallly slowly. And if you actually know me, you'd find that very hard to believe. But yes, I decided to consciously walk slowly for once.
Making my way down past Martin's, I made sure to look at every tree, notice how tall each lamppost was—sulk at my comparative height—listen to every chirp or bug around. And as I began to listen, the night sounds seemed to grow louder.
So loud, until I couldn't even hear myself think anymore. And that's not a bad thing.
There were crickets, and cicadas, and who knows whatever else was out there. Nonetheless, I found myself in complete awe at their combined sound. I had to stop for a moment, just by the edge of the road, to actually feel the vibration of sound, resonating within the ground and within me.
A few mosquitos found their way to my ankles, ruining the moment.
Fucking mosquitos.
Deciding I did not like bugs anymore, I walked further down the road, almost near Manor, where I stood atop Mike's favorite rock: one found just between a little cluster of trees. There, I had a perfect view of the bay, and the sky, and the stars, and the still earth beneath me.
I let my gaze rest on Orion's belt—the only constellation I know by heart—and sighed at just how brilliant it was. The whole thing.
I could hear the distant rolling of waves lapping at the shore, though the tide seemed quite calm, and I'd be lying if I told you I hadn't lost it for a moment.
Truth is, I had, in fact, completely lost myself in a trance of stars and flowers and constellations. The sky stood brilliantly before me, and I let it envelope me in its almost chilling embrace. Yeah, the wind was rough that night.
Eventually, the same damn mosquitos found their way back to me, forcing me out of my own beloved peace of mind.
Cursing the darned things, I made my way back to Benets, allowing the full fatigue of the day to finally catch up to me.
What happened later was fun, I will admit, but didn't seem to matter nearly as much.
I met up with CJS and took a walk before stopping by the admin building and sitting by the front benches. We talked and goofed around and joked about a glow stick he happened to find on the ground (I warned him not to pick it up). And it was fun.
The next day, I felt productive and took a stab at getting ahead on work, which was indeed a smart decision. Later that day, I met up with CJS again and we watched Ocean's 11 (I'd never seen it before). It was asdghjflewoiwehqjfnmv *insert heart eyes here*
So yeah. That was my first weekend. Pretty solid, I think.
Now it's on to the next one.
Hasta la próxima,
Much love xoxo
Maya
I meant to write this post like three days ago (my bad....) but it appears I'd run out of time and energy.
So here I am.
Yesterday (Saturday, the 19th) was an interesting day. To kick it off, I handed in my first ever Overview for APUSH. That was a helluva relief.
After classes, Bray-Bray decided to cancel play practice, so that was awesome. I pretended like I was gonna do homework, but we all know that didn't happen. Sooner or later, I ended up in the Wing, where Abar decided to pop outta nowhere and make an appearance. It was really fun seeing him again :)
We went to dinner, where we met up with Claire, Brandt, Max, and the others. Eventually, Claire and I decided to head back to the dorm, except on the way, we bumped into a cozy little circle of people sitting out on the lawn, singing.
Now, this was weird. It was weird because it didn't consist of my little crew of favorite human beings. It wasn't our crew. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure this little group was full of lovely people, but the fact of the matter is they weren't my people.
They were a bunch of freshman and sophomores surrounding this one girl, Rory, who happens to be the younger sister of someone in my grade. Bottom line, her voice was insane. And by insane, I mean killer. And by killer, I mean she gave me chills.
And yes, I will admit—and I know y'all are gonna scold me for thinking like this so, I'm already ahead of you there—hearing her sing was a definite blow to the ego.
Her pipes were raspy, and unique, and loud, and those are all qualities I've struggled for years to try and learn to work on or live without.
Needless to say, I packed up my backpack and marched all the way back to the Wing, to sing until I felt better about myself.
I practiced EHX songs, I practiced my voice lesson songs, I tried learning a couple new songs by ear, I sang things to widen my range, I tried singing my favorites, I tried singing classics, I sang contemporary, I tried everything. In the end, I had a headache and some extremely sore vocal chords.
And yet, somehow I still felt overshadowed by this one, singular voice. A fucking beautiful voice, at that.
It wasn't until I couldn't feel my throat anymore and I was walking down the path back to my dorm, that I started to feel a little bit better.
I remembered this book I read when I was in kindergarten. It was about crayons.
Now, hear me out before you go ahead and skip reading this part.
It was about all the colors in the crayon box. And how all of them were beautiful.
Except no one ever wanted to use the white crayon. Cuz you can't use white crayons on white paper, duh (unless you're water coloring but that wasn't the point of this book.)
Spoiler alert: some kindergartener decides to draw on a black piece of paper that day and reaches for the white crayon. Oh, boy, did that crayon feel special.
I know, random anecdote of Maya's childhood literary choices, but my point is, this little story somehow felt more comforting than four hours of singing till my voice cracked like a 13-year-old boy's.
Despite having rushed to the Wing in a jolt of low self-esteem, I began to contemplate how much that basement of rooms means to me.
It's my little corner of the world. My space to do as I please and sing to my heart's content. Granted, I can only belt when the Wing is empty, so as not to disturb the peace, but that's besides the point.
I was on my way back to the dorm and by now the sky had gone pitch black.
Mr. Baron spoke to us earlier that day (or the day before) about not wasting moments.
Now, moments are curious. They come and go in flashes and just as we're about to grasp them, they disappear.
In that particular moment, I found myself sore, and cold, and in a bit of a sulky mood. So, instead of taking the easy way out, I decided to take a risk by leaving myself to my own thoughts. And nature. Mainly nature.
I made sure to walk reaaaaaaaallly slowly. And if you actually know me, you'd find that very hard to believe. But yes, I decided to consciously walk slowly for once.
Making my way down past Martin's, I made sure to look at every tree, notice how tall each lamppost was—sulk at my comparative height—listen to every chirp or bug around. And as I began to listen, the night sounds seemed to grow louder.
So loud, until I couldn't even hear myself think anymore. And that's not a bad thing.
There were crickets, and cicadas, and who knows whatever else was out there. Nonetheless, I found myself in complete awe at their combined sound. I had to stop for a moment, just by the edge of the road, to actually feel the vibration of sound, resonating within the ground and within me.
A few mosquitos found their way to my ankles, ruining the moment.
Fucking mosquitos.
Deciding I did not like bugs anymore, I walked further down the road, almost near Manor, where I stood atop Mike's favorite rock: one found just between a little cluster of trees. There, I had a perfect view of the bay, and the sky, and the stars, and the still earth beneath me.
I let my gaze rest on Orion's belt—the only constellation I know by heart—and sighed at just how brilliant it was. The whole thing.
I could hear the distant rolling of waves lapping at the shore, though the tide seemed quite calm, and I'd be lying if I told you I hadn't lost it for a moment.
Truth is, I had, in fact, completely lost myself in a trance of stars and flowers and constellations. The sky stood brilliantly before me, and I let it envelope me in its almost chilling embrace. Yeah, the wind was rough that night.
Eventually, the same damn mosquitos found their way back to me, forcing me out of my own beloved peace of mind.
Cursing the darned things, I made my way back to Benets, allowing the full fatigue of the day to finally catch up to me.
What happened later was fun, I will admit, but didn't seem to matter nearly as much.
I met up with CJS and took a walk before stopping by the admin building and sitting by the front benches. We talked and goofed around and joked about a glow stick he happened to find on the ground (I warned him not to pick it up). And it was fun.
The next day, I felt productive and took a stab at getting ahead on work, which was indeed a smart decision. Later that day, I met up with CJS again and we watched Ocean's 11 (I'd never seen it before). It was asdghjflewoiwehqjfnmv *insert heart eyes here*
So yeah. That was my first weekend. Pretty solid, I think.
Now it's on to the next one.
Hasta la próxima,
Much love xoxo
Maya
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