"This weak side of mine...."(EXTRA CREDIT)

It was a cold and chilly Saturday morning, and I was feeling down over some troubles I had with one of my best friends. We have been fighting since quite a long time over really stupid things. My friend who was always there for me, who always supported me, and whom I could always rely on, was no longer acting like that. We have been friends since kindergarten, and we had an amazing and extraordinary friendship. We were always hanging out together, joking together, getting in trouble together, and to make it short we always stick together with one another. We were and still are really close; I can almost assure that there is nothing that she does not know about me, and vice versa.

“It is your entire fault you know” she used to say whenever we spoke about our issue. May be it was true, it was really all my fault, but at the begging I was too proud to be able to admitted. I was really selfish and over conscious about myself, I only thought about me. I didn’t want to accept that I have made such a huge mistake, I rather put the blame into the person who was with me, as I mentioned before we were literary always together, when it occurred. She was only present when I committed the biggest mistake of my life; she had not done anything wrong, even more she tried to stop me.

It is pretty normal for me to get very angry about making mistakes, and at that time she was the only one I could put on all my angriness and sadness. She had to bear it all, actually only the worst part: having to deal with me after I have made such a big mistake. She tried to help me, to make me feel better, and she was always trying to cheer me up. But I was too selfish to appreciate all that she had done to me, and instead of thanking her I ended up fighting with her. I insulted her, not consciously, but I did, and she got really offended. She is the kind of person who has a limit of how much can they can take, and I had already passed her limit. So she got mad, she yelled at me, she told me really nasty things (which even though I do not want to admit, were true), and she insulted me in every way possible. I did pretty much the same thing, except that I also blamed her to be the cause of all my problems.

After that it passed a very long time until we saw and talked each other again. At first, I thought she was the one who was wrong and that someday she would call me to say how sorry she was, but that day never came. I did not want to take the blame of my own problems; I did not want to accept the consequences of what I had done. I was way too proud and also stubborn so it was really difficult for me to assimilate that I was the guilty one.

So when I finally accepted that I was the one at fault I thought that everything would be solved between her and me. But I did not know how to say her that I had realized that I was the one who had the fault. It is hard to admit you have done something wrong, especially when you have said exactly the contrary. I did not want to show her my weak side, not to her not to anyone. So it really took me a while to plan and to figure out how I was going to ask her to forgive me.

At the end I decided to ask her to forgive me. This took a lot of courage from me to say it, it was hard and I felt defeated. To accept being defeated is really something difficult because you show the others that you have weaknesses and imperfections. My friend was stubborn at first; she was not willing to listen to what I had to say. I managed to convince her to listen to me and so she did. I bet that she would have not forgiven me if I had not shown her that weak and defenseless side of mine. 

"First impressions" (EXTRA CREDIT)

Everyone knows that the first impression is very important, and almost everyone has a memory of the first impression they got of someone who is very important for them. Many will remember that maybe the first time you met your best friend you thought he or she was awkward and weird, but that when you got to him or her better you realized that it was totally the opposite of what you thought. And really, it happens all the time, because we always get the wrong idea of what people are really like. So when I thought of writing about this topic so many people came to my mind, but almost immediately I realized that I could not remember about the first impression I had from them. Then after thinking and remembering a while, I thought about the first impression I had of something that is really present in my life, and I thought that writing about it would be something funny.

It occurred on June of last year, I cannot remember exactly when, but I am pretty sure it was either in June or July of 2010. The first sunrays of the day where entering into my room through the window. Since vacations were just starting I was still used to wake up at 6:00am, so I was already awake. After a really delicious breakfast, which consisted of pancakes, eggs, bacon and sausages, I found myself sitting next to my mom who was talking over the phone about someone that was supposed to come to my house.  I tried to deduce what she was talking about, but really it was impossible. All I understood was that someone called “Bruno” would be coming to my house later on that day. Mother had to leave the house to pay some bills, so I could not ask her anything about this Bruno.

Bruno? First of all, what kind of name is that? And why would he be coming to my house? Well, I did not know, so all I could do was wait for him to come. While I waited I sat on the couch and thought about what I heard when my mom was talking on the phone.  I recalled something about being mistreated and hit. Maybe Bruno was a victim of domestic violence. She also said something that made me think of him as a little child. Well, hours passed and suddenly my grandfather called. He told me he had just left Bruno at my house back door and that I should go see him. Since he was busy he hung up really first fast and I could not ask him anything about Bruno. I was nervous but also curious about him, so I rushed to the door.

The moment I opened the door I understood everything.  “So you are Bruno” I said to myself as I stared at him directly. He was there sitting in the floor, doing literally nothing. I was impacted by the way he looked at things; it was as if he was scared of everything and everyone.  He had these wide black eyes that sparkled and that were more than expressive.  He looked so little, so tiny, so defenseless, so innocent, so cute, so scared of everyone around him. He gave you the feeling that he was sad, and that he was yearning for someone’s company and love.  Maybe he was feeling lonely; maybe he was afraid of being in this place in which he had never been before.

After some minutes just watching at him, I decide to approach to him. He had not realized I was there, so when he saw me he ran away from where he was to the furthest place possible. I bent and called out for him until he finally got convinced and approached to me. I understood the “being mistreated” thing, since every time I raised my hand to touch his head he would lower his head and close his eyes quickly. I rubbed his head for a while until he calmed down; when he finally did I grabbed him and hugged him tightly. I realized he was not scared of me anymore, so I let him on the floor and watch him fool around all over my patio. He was really cute and sweet, Bruno was a little poor thing that I had decided to take care of.

Nowadays Bruno personality has changed quite a lot; since he is no longer this innocent and timid thing, he has turned really obstinate and defiant. Of course, he is no longer afraid of people anymore actually he has become very sociable. I have learned to love him, even though I find him really stubborn sometimes. The first impression I had from him is something I will never forget, not only because he has changed a lot but also because he is my beloved dog.

"Weather..."

Sometimes I found myself sitting back and reminiscing about one surprising event that occurred on May 28^th of last year. It was Thursday and I was just getting home after school. I was really bored and I didn’t have anything good to do, my sisters were watching such a lame movie that I truly dislike and my brother was next door at my cousins house.  It was getting late and I still hadn’t done any homework yet, so the feeling of guilt was getting on me already every time my mom asked “Is your homework done, sweetie?” and I replied “Of course!” each time. It is always like that, my mom can see right through me so she sent my right away to my room so that I could finish my homework, or maybe  I should say start my homework.

I went for my laptop and sat on my bed, I had to finish my homework before dinner.  Immediately after I opened my laptop I realized I was on Facebook chatting with my friends, looking some pictures and well, almost anything but my homework.  I heard rain pouring outside, it was pretty normal so I ignored it as usual. My mom, who was downstairs, shouted “Ceci! The dog outside and it is raining!”. “Yeah, I know… so what?” I thought, but I knew she was indirectly asking me, as she always does, to let the dog indoors so it would not get wet.  I went downstairs, and opened the door. I called out for my dog and it came in a little bit faster than usual. I bent to pet it and I felt something weird on its hair. “Mom, I think the dog has been digging a hole again” I said, “Oh, really? Why do you say so,?” she replied. “Well, the dog is all covered with black dirt”.

After that I rushed to my room, and opened my laptop again. I pressed F5 and Facebook’s page was refreshed. At first glance it was surprising to see how many people had updated their status in the last minutes, so I read one to see what it was all about. “Esta lloviendo arena!!” it said. What?! I could not believe what I was reading.  “Maybe he is just crazy” I thought, but the moment I read the other status they were all the same. “Mom!” I shouted, “I know why the dog is dirty, it is raining sand!”. “Sweetie, you have gone mad” she said, I ran downstairs and managed to convince her to go outside with me so that she could see what I was talking about.  In our way to the door my sisters tagged along.

“Thank God! Yes, yes!” my sister exclaimed, “For sure we are not going to school tomorrow”. I couldn’t believe what my eyes were watching; the ground that once was filled with green grass and really tiny pinkish flowers was now black. I couldn’t find a reasonable way to explain what was happening so pretty much all I was doing was staring at what was happening. After fifteen minutes of staring astonished at the black sky, I found myself fooling with the sand outside the house with my sisters, brother and cousins. Of course I repented the next day when I had to wash my hair and it was full of tiny little grains of sand.

Of course my sister was right; we did not have school the next day.  Next morning I rushed to my garden to see everything, and I have to admit that I was even more surprised to see it that moment. I thought that something like this did not happened that often and that it was just something so, in it’s on way, unexpectedly beautiful and random. But when the newspaper came around six ‘o’clock in the morning I was even more amazed. To see the pictures of how all the city was covered with black sand, which I discovered from reading the newspaper that it came from the Pacaya volcano, was just really out of the ordinary.  Everyone all around the country was talking about it, and I still could not believe the extraordinary event that occurred just last night. 

"My friend..."

Last Monday early in the morning, I was feeling really sick. I was feeling down, I didn’t want to do anything. I was pale, I was sleepy, I had stuffy nose and I looked just terrible. It was also chilly and that kind of weather made me felt even more depressed. When I entered the classroom my friend noticed really fast that I wasn’t feeling well.  She asked me how I was feeling and if I needed any help, she also tried to put a smile on my face with really bad jokes and stories. Soon enough even though I wasn’t feeling well at all, I was laughing and smiling with her. My friend is always like that. Just by looking my face she can tell how am feeling, if I am good or bad, if I have troubles or issues, if I feel happy or sad, if I feel at uneasy or at ease, and even if I feel pleased or displeased. She knows me more than well. She knows how I react to almost every kind of situation, so this makes it easy for her to understand me better than many other people. When I found myself at times of troubles I know that I can go and talk to her about it, not only because I know that she will listen and understand, but also because she is not afraid of telling me the truth. When I first met her I thought she was really straight forward, harsh some times and a little bit stubborn. But day after day, situation after situation, I realized that those characteristics were not defects but really good qualities. If I am feeling happy, If I am having a good time she knows how to add even more fun and content to those moments, and if I am feeling down, or if I have problems with family or friends she knows how to make me forget about my troubles and also helps me solve them. At first it was hard and difficult to trust each other, but now we understand each other pretty well. I have learned through experience that she is worth my trust and that she knows how to give great advice. I heard some people say that friendship always seeks some kind of interest, and it is true. When you make friends you look for people who will make you have a good time, or people that will take your sorrows away. So whenever skies are cloudy and gray, now I know that they are going to be gray for seconds because I have friends that will make everything shine and look good. For example, when I was feeling troubled about some family issues, my friend listen to my problem carefully.  After that she made me look the problem not only from my perspective, but also from the perspective of the others. She remarked the thing that I had done well, as well as the one that were wrong. When she pointed at my mistakes she made realize that I was taking wrong attitudes, that I needed to act more mature and I had to try to listen to everyone’s opinion and point of view. She also gave me advices of some sort of things I could do, which by the way had great results.  During this times sometimes I find it hard to tell my friends what I was feeling, I was not exactly secure of how to feel or act. I didn’t know who to trust, or who would be able to pay attention to my problem and help me solve it. After thinking and more thinking I thought it would be fine if I told her about this issue, and if I let her know what I was feeling for real. At the end it turned out to be something wonderful, since letting her give me some advice and help only strengthen our bond as friends. To have someone you can trust, to have someone who knows you perfectly, someone who will always tell you the truth, to have someone that knows your reactions, someone who sticks up to you to very end, is to have a friend. For everything she has done to help me I am very thankful, and I don’t think that I could find someone that can be as good friend as her.

"When I was little I wanted to be... older"

Maybe ten or nine years ago, when I was still at elementary school, I used to think that being in high school was very far away. I longed to be older and more mature; I wanted to be treated as an adult. I used to dream all day about the years that were ahead of me, about the days when I would be a young adult ready to let go of my parents, ready to face the world, ready to be live free. Mother and father will always tell me “When you grow older, you will understand”, “You will be able to do so, when you are mature enough”, “You can’t because you are still a child”, this kind of things that they said to me where the phrases that made me want and desire to grow up faster. These were the words that reminded me that I was not ready, that I was not mature, and that I was still missing something. My mother seemed to enjoy how much I worried about growing up but she would kindly remind me that there was still a long way to go through until I became an adult like her. Meanwhile other adults kept talking to me about how important was my future, about the important decisions I would have to make, about the responsibilities I would have, about the important things I was going to be able to do, but I had to wait until we became older.  A child like me, could not do anything important or significant, if I wanted to do so then I needed to grow up.  I wonder how long it would take me to grow up, how long I will have to wait for my thoughts to be heard and for my actions to be recognized, how far away I was to be able to.  I needed to become an adult like mother to drive, I needed to become an adult like father to work, and I needed to become an adult to decide, to act, and to be something important.  Everything seemed to me like an adult’s world, wherever I was and wherever I went. For example when I was at the mall I couldn’t buy anything because I didn’t have any money, if I wanted to go somewhere or to do something I always had to ask for permission.  Sometimes I couldn’t do anything but feel pity of myself for being so little, so insignificant, so useless. I wanted to be someone who could create, someone who people would listen to, someone who society would take in account too, someone who had power and a voice of my own. Every now and then I remember how I used to feel when I was little and it seems to me that I was blind, that I only saw the good parts of being an adult, that I only saw the benefits. I never thought of the other things that meant being an adult. I never thought about the problems I would face, about the hardships, about the responsibilities of making my own decisions. I thought everything would be better, funnier, and easier and that I would have freedom, but today, every time I realize how close I am to become an adult I can’t see it as the way I used to do it before. Now I have realized that being and adults means more than just having fun. Now instead of wishing to become an adult faster, I wish to go back to those worriless, happy and shiny days from when I was a little girl. I guess it will always be the same for everyone whenever you are little you hope and dream of becoming older, but when you are an adult you desire and wish of going back to the old days. As for me now I still want to become older but I also want to stay being a teen.  I do not have a necessity to grow faster, nor I want to stay little forever, for now I want to enjoy every moment of my life as a teen, and when the time comes, to enjoy it as an adult.