Fall is a tie between spring for favorite seasons, for many reasons!
Growing up in south central Pennsylvania, I have some really great memories of fall as a kid. In the Appalachian mountain area, there was a festival called the Apple Harvest Festival that my mom and I would go to every year. There they had people from all over who sold their artwork, their crafts, there was all this delicious food like kettle corn, sweet potato fries, and all things pumpkin and of course, apple. Apple juice, apple cider, apple pies, candied apples, caramel dipped apples, apple dumplings. And there was always a few local bands who played the music of Pennsylvania Appalachia, who were always dressed in dirty flannel and hole ridden overalls. They had their banjos and their fiddles and they played til they couldn't play anymore.
As much as I poke fun at my hometown and its surroundings, I really do miss it! I love the nature there. Each season has a different and distinct smell. Spring is full of flowers and new growth, winter is icy and smells like snow, summer smells like...tar from all the construction, and fall...ah, fall. It smells like rotting leaves that have fallen from the trees after their beautiful show of foliage, it smells like the coming cold of winter. I promised myself that if I ever have kids (and even if I don't), I'll move somewhere north to settle down, if settling down is something I can handle. Recently we tossed northern California into the options of ''affordable, liberal places to live'', along with Seattle, Portland, Madison, Ann Arbor, Boston, Philly, and Burlington.
Yeah. I know.
Not THAT affordable.
Currently we are residing in Austin, TX where it is most certainly liberal and since we are staying with my parents until we can save some money which is affordable, it's south.
And south equals hot.
The fall that I know is cold mornings and chilly nights with nippy day time sandwiched in between, longer night hours and the sun starts it's descend around 3pm. Pumpkin pies and apple cider are served in a kitchen with dried corn and gourd decorations and smiling jack-o-lanterns.
I love that fall.
So in honor of the fall that I love so much, I've created a recipe for a warming autumn soup that is rich in flavor, nutrients, and the colors that reflect this beautiful season!
Fall Soup:
1 fruit of a small pumpkin
2-3 sweet potatoes/yams (let's face it, there really is no difference), unpeeled
3 carrots, peeled
1 - 1 1/2 cans of coconut cream (I use Coco Lopez)
2 green onions
Salt and pepper to taste
So here's what ya do:
Throw the pumpkin, carrots, and sweet potatoes into a pot of boiling water and cook until they're super tender.
After that, drain and throw them into a blender or food processor, whichever is bigger in your case. Add the coconut cream and blend.
The consistency should be kind of thick, but soupy enough to be well...soup.
Chop up the green onions and lay those puppies on top of the soup and enjoy.
I don't have any pictures of it now, but it's orange with little green things on top.
Use your imagination.
Anyway, I love that for fall, especially eating it outside on a chilly evening, watching the steam roll off the bowl as a breeze flows by, accompanied by warm apple cider!
Anyone else love the fall season, too? What's your favorite part about it? Mine is the food, colder weather, and of course, HALLOWEEN!!!!
Love & Light,
DNB
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Sunday, March 9, 2014
The Invisible Epidemic
1. Depression distorts your thinking. When you are depressed, your mind can play tricks on you.
2. Depression makes you selfish. It's very hard to think of other people when you're wrapped in a prickly blanket of sadness, and all you can think about is your own pain. Be proactive and take the steps you need to heal.
3. Depression is experienced as anxiety 65 percent of the time. Make sure you get an accurate diagnosis, so you can get the most effective treatment available.
4. Persistent irritability can be a symptom of depression. If the world, your life, or your loved ones constantly tick you off, the cause might be something that's going on inside of you.
5. Chronic pain can be another symptom of depression. At the same time, being in continual discomfort can cause you to become depressed. When you are depressed and in pain, it can be hard to know which came first.
6. Alcohol is a depressant. So are marijuana and a host of other recreational or street drugs. Self-medication is not going to get you better and will surely make you worse over time. Remember that all medications, including anti-depressants, have side effects.
7. People don't choose to be depressed, but they do make a choice about how to deal with it. You can choose to do nothing, but denying that you have a problem will only make you feel worse.
8. The origin of depression can be situational and/or bio-chemical. If you are experiencing mild to moderate situational depression (resulting from the loss of a job, for example), counseling will help you. Most bio-chemical depressions that are moderate to severe are best treated with a combination of medicine and psychotherapy.
9. Depression can be as hard on your loved ones as it is on you. Those closest to you may start to feel unloved, and may distance themselves so they aren't pulled into your pain. Remember that others are counting on you.
10. Exercise is the easiest and least expensive cure for depression. Just walking 30 minutes a day will help you and sometimes completely alleviate your symptoms. For this very reason, many therapists take walks with clients instead of doing "couch time."
I will tell you all a little story of my life from my mid-teens.
I had a really great childhood. I was always kind of the ''weird one'' in my group of friends, but I still had some really great friends throughout middle school and high school. I was bullied a good bit but it never really got to me, I guess because I knew the people who were doing it were not worthy of my tears or fears.
When I was 16, about the time that I started dating my school sweetheart, Chuck, my world completely changed. I think many people blamed him for it, but it was just bad timing I guess, that he entered my life in such a way when I was faced with it.
Previously, I was a very devout Lutheran. I went to church and Sunday school every Sunday, youth groups, retreats, anything that I could do to be involved with my church, I'd do it without question.
Around the time Chuck and I started dating, I became depressed. At first, I thought I missed summer or something, since it was taking over my mind in the late fall.
It started out by me feeling like I no longer had enjoyment in things like going to church, or playing tennis (on my high school team), and eventually my friends started dropping like flies. About 3 of them seemed like they cared.
As the months went by, I became rather antisocial, really only wanting to hang out with Chuck and my only friend at the time, Katie.
I had a few former friends who thought Chuck had gotten me into drugs or something, I guess because he fit the part of the stereotypical high school ''druggie''... in a band, long hair, raggedy clothes, and he got around town via skateboard. Honestly, I never intentionally did drugs during my high school years, nor did I even drink alcohol. Chuck was very much against that and he really talked me out of trying pot for the first time when I was 17, so I just ended up not caring whether or not I tried it.
I started lashing out at my parents and teachers, I stopped caring about.... everything, really. At one point in time, I was failing every single one of my classes in school. And I just didn't care. I had lost all motivation to do anything.
My parents got concerned because all I'd listen to was Nirvana. I had a 5 disc stereo and every cd I had in was Nirvana. For some reason they didn't like that, I guess because I previously listened to upbeat Christian music.
One night, I called my childhood best friend who I had sort of grew apart from a bit because of this. I told her that I was feeling suicidal. Her response to that was, ''Jimmy (her boyfriend) is coming over in a few minutes, I can't talk now.''
12 years of best friendship and that's what I fucking get?
Some friend.
After that, I became angry at her and all of our mutual friends who sort of took her side after we completely split ties.
No one tried to find out what was wrong with me, they just didn't like my boyfriend, without even talking to him.
By the end of my 11th grade school year, I had attempted suicide 3 times. Although I still fiercely believed in God, I prayed every night that I wouldn't live through the night to see the next day. And I got angry and frustrated when I'd groggily open my eyes.
I hated myself.
Whenever I looked at myself in the mirror, I wanted to gouge my eyes out, pull my hair out, punch the mirror and slice my throat with a broke piece.
I absolutely hated being Dara.
I hated my family, I hated the people who used to be my friends, I hated everything and everyone. I'd constantly fight with my parents, who I'd ALWAYS had a wonderful relationship with.
I stopped taking care of myself. I'd shower maybe once a week, and slept as much as I could. I had a job that I worked after school during the summer and winter (fall was tennis season and spring was track & field season), I'd get home from school around 3 and had to be at work at 4, which was across town (like a 10 minute drive). I'd get home and go to sleep up until I had to leave for work. I wouldn't eat for days, until I felt like I was going to pass out from low blood sugar. I just... didn't give a fuck.
I lost all hope for a future. I always said that if I made it past the age of 18, I'd be surprised.
I finally saw a counselor who told me that I was depressed, and I'm not sure why I didn't think of it, I thought I was just going through what normal 16 year old go through.
I had no motivation though, to help myself. I just wanted to die.
No one understood it. My parents didn't know how to deal with it. My friend. I didn't even know. I remember the thing that made Chuck and I so close was that we were both depressed and we sort of fed off of each other's depression, and somehow that made me feel a tiny bit better. You know, knowing that SOMEONE gets it. That SOMEONE knows how it feels to wish they'd have died during the night.
If I had told that to someone who didn't understand the feeling, I can't even imagine the looks and comments they'd give me.
I felt like I was in an altered state of consciousness. I did not feel like me. I did not feel human. My heart was beating and my blood was running, but I felt dead. And I wanted to be.
By mid-12 grade year, I had another 4 more suicide attempts to count for.
I just wanted to get out of high school. I was sick of the people, sick of the teachers, sick of everything. I was sick of being told, ''just be happy!''
I finally graduated.
I busted my ass, but I graduated.
Barely.
In mid-summer of 2005, I began to see light at the end of the tunnel.
I was wanting to get out into the world and free myself of the restraints of childhood and adolescents.
I wanted to explore and meet people.
After a while, I realized that I was hopeful.
I ended things (only to be on again/off again for another 6 months) with Chuck because as I was seeing the light, he wanted to keep ahold of me and my depression.
If I had stayed with him, I would surely not be here writing this. I would have made sure I'd have done it right.
At age 19, I moved to Texas and soon after, I started dating a guy with whom I worked. Bad idea. He introduced me to heavy drinking and drugs. I was on and off with him for 5 years, with other equally bad influencing boyfriends in between, one of who was a schizophrenic whose medicine was alcohol and cocaine.
When I was 20, I was diagnosed with cyclothymic bipolar disorder. That is when you experience the high highs of mania and the low lows of depression, but not in such a severe way as the first two levels of bipolar disorder, and it's more sporadic. It's a sub threshold of bipolar disorder.
I have had 3 other temporary periods of depression, all lasting about 5-8 months each.
Now I know what to do to keep my head above sinking level, even though I still (all too) often become manic, I haven't had a depressive period for over 2 years.
I eat (rather) healthy, I exercise, I avoid alcohol and drugs, and I live life to be happy.
I became a vegetarian at a young age and a vegan age 18. Staying away from dairy helps me really keep my mind sharp and focused. When I add into the equation actual healthy eating, it's multiplied by 10000. Clean eating is a definite bonus when struggling with mood disorders because feeling physically unwell is one more thing you don't have to worry about.
I make sure to get some exercise, be it a walk around the block, lifting weights, sports... anything to get the blood flowing and endorphins released, at least 5 times a week.
It's been over a year since I've stopped drinking and although I do miss those fruity little drinks, drinking is not as important as remembering the days I have with my family and friends. From ages 19-25, I drank like a filthy fish! I also don't smoke weed anymore. I don't have a problem with it, but personally, it unhinges me. I can't handle it. It gets me high and when I come off the high, I sink like a cement block.
I do things that make me happy. That's an important thing in life. I don't let little stresses get to me.
I am a fortunate individual because I do not regret ever having depression and going through this. It has made me a brick wall. I am strong as hell. It broke down my self-esteem, my confidence, my life, and I picked myself up and rebuilt a whole new me.
I am happy, I am joyful, and I have attained more patience and compassion than I would have, had I not prayed to God to take my life every night.
I ditched Christianity when I was 19 for something that makes more sense to me- Pagan Pantheism. Maybe not for everyone, but it works for me. No offense, Jesus.
I am no longer angry, lost, confused, or hopeless.
I am happy.
I am a white female who grew up with a loving family in middle class America. I never needed anything. I was never traumatized as a child.
I somehow became depressed. It's a chemical imbalance in your brain. it's not a racial or social status related disorder. It can be hereditary.
Depression effected me in more ways than I realized at the time. During my first and longest period of depression (which was about 2 1/2 years), I wanted to do nothing but sleep. I was so tired all the time. I didn't eat much. My entire body hurt. I got aches and pains all over. Everyday I had a headache, maybe that's why I wanted to sleep a lot.
On March 21, 2012, one of my closest friends, Anthony Trevino, lost his battle with depression and substance abuse. I miss him everyday.
If you are or you know someone who is or may be depressed, please get (them) help. It may save your life or theirs.
2. Depression makes you selfish. It's very hard to think of other people when you're wrapped in a prickly blanket of sadness, and all you can think about is your own pain. Be proactive and take the steps you need to heal.
3. Depression is experienced as anxiety 65 percent of the time. Make sure you get an accurate diagnosis, so you can get the most effective treatment available.
4. Persistent irritability can be a symptom of depression. If the world, your life, or your loved ones constantly tick you off, the cause might be something that's going on inside of you.
5. Chronic pain can be another symptom of depression. At the same time, being in continual discomfort can cause you to become depressed. When you are depressed and in pain, it can be hard to know which came first.
6. Alcohol is a depressant. So are marijuana and a host of other recreational or street drugs. Self-medication is not going to get you better and will surely make you worse over time. Remember that all medications, including anti-depressants, have side effects.
7. People don't choose to be depressed, but they do make a choice about how to deal with it. You can choose to do nothing, but denying that you have a problem will only make you feel worse.
8. The origin of depression can be situational and/or bio-chemical. If you are experiencing mild to moderate situational depression (resulting from the loss of a job, for example), counseling will help you. Most bio-chemical depressions that are moderate to severe are best treated with a combination of medicine and psychotherapy.
9. Depression can be as hard on your loved ones as it is on you. Those closest to you may start to feel unloved, and may distance themselves so they aren't pulled into your pain. Remember that others are counting on you.
10. Exercise is the easiest and least expensive cure for depression. Just walking 30 minutes a day will help you and sometimes completely alleviate your symptoms. For this very reason, many therapists take walks with clients instead of doing "couch time."
| 11. |
Of the estimated
17.5 million Americans who are affected by some form of depression, 9.2
million have major or clinical depression
|
| 12. |
Two-thirds of
people suffering from depression do not seek necessary treatment
|
| 13. |
80% of all people
with clinical depression who have received treatment significantly
improve their lives
|
| 14. |
The economic cost
of depression is estimated at $30.4 billion a year but the cost in human
suffering cannot be estimated
|
| 15. |
Women experience
depression about twice as often as men
|
| 16. |
By the year 2020,
the World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that depression will be the
number two cause of "lost years of healthy life" worldwide
|
I had a really great childhood. I was always kind of the ''weird one'' in my group of friends, but I still had some really great friends throughout middle school and high school. I was bullied a good bit but it never really got to me, I guess because I knew the people who were doing it were not worthy of my tears or fears.
When I was 16, about the time that I started dating my school sweetheart, Chuck, my world completely changed. I think many people blamed him for it, but it was just bad timing I guess, that he entered my life in such a way when I was faced with it.
Previously, I was a very devout Lutheran. I went to church and Sunday school every Sunday, youth groups, retreats, anything that I could do to be involved with my church, I'd do it without question.
Around the time Chuck and I started dating, I became depressed. At first, I thought I missed summer or something, since it was taking over my mind in the late fall.
It started out by me feeling like I no longer had enjoyment in things like going to church, or playing tennis (on my high school team), and eventually my friends started dropping like flies. About 3 of them seemed like they cared.
As the months went by, I became rather antisocial, really only wanting to hang out with Chuck and my only friend at the time, Katie.
I had a few former friends who thought Chuck had gotten me into drugs or something, I guess because he fit the part of the stereotypical high school ''druggie''... in a band, long hair, raggedy clothes, and he got around town via skateboard. Honestly, I never intentionally did drugs during my high school years, nor did I even drink alcohol. Chuck was very much against that and he really talked me out of trying pot for the first time when I was 17, so I just ended up not caring whether or not I tried it.
I started lashing out at my parents and teachers, I stopped caring about.... everything, really. At one point in time, I was failing every single one of my classes in school. And I just didn't care. I had lost all motivation to do anything.
My parents got concerned because all I'd listen to was Nirvana. I had a 5 disc stereo and every cd I had in was Nirvana. For some reason they didn't like that, I guess because I previously listened to upbeat Christian music.
One night, I called my childhood best friend who I had sort of grew apart from a bit because of this. I told her that I was feeling suicidal. Her response to that was, ''Jimmy (her boyfriend) is coming over in a few minutes, I can't talk now.''
12 years of best friendship and that's what I fucking get?
Some friend.
After that, I became angry at her and all of our mutual friends who sort of took her side after we completely split ties.
No one tried to find out what was wrong with me, they just didn't like my boyfriend, without even talking to him.
By the end of my 11th grade school year, I had attempted suicide 3 times. Although I still fiercely believed in God, I prayed every night that I wouldn't live through the night to see the next day. And I got angry and frustrated when I'd groggily open my eyes.
I hated myself.
Whenever I looked at myself in the mirror, I wanted to gouge my eyes out, pull my hair out, punch the mirror and slice my throat with a broke piece.
I absolutely hated being Dara.
I hated my family, I hated the people who used to be my friends, I hated everything and everyone. I'd constantly fight with my parents, who I'd ALWAYS had a wonderful relationship with.
I stopped taking care of myself. I'd shower maybe once a week, and slept as much as I could. I had a job that I worked after school during the summer and winter (fall was tennis season and spring was track & field season), I'd get home from school around 3 and had to be at work at 4, which was across town (like a 10 minute drive). I'd get home and go to sleep up until I had to leave for work. I wouldn't eat for days, until I felt like I was going to pass out from low blood sugar. I just... didn't give a fuck.
I lost all hope for a future. I always said that if I made it past the age of 18, I'd be surprised.
I finally saw a counselor who told me that I was depressed, and I'm not sure why I didn't think of it, I thought I was just going through what normal 16 year old go through.
I had no motivation though, to help myself. I just wanted to die.
No one understood it. My parents didn't know how to deal with it. My friend. I didn't even know. I remember the thing that made Chuck and I so close was that we were both depressed and we sort of fed off of each other's depression, and somehow that made me feel a tiny bit better. You know, knowing that SOMEONE gets it. That SOMEONE knows how it feels to wish they'd have died during the night.
If I had told that to someone who didn't understand the feeling, I can't even imagine the looks and comments they'd give me.
I felt like I was in an altered state of consciousness. I did not feel like me. I did not feel human. My heart was beating and my blood was running, but I felt dead. And I wanted to be.
By mid-12 grade year, I had another 4 more suicide attempts to count for.
I just wanted to get out of high school. I was sick of the people, sick of the teachers, sick of everything. I was sick of being told, ''just be happy!''
I finally graduated.
I busted my ass, but I graduated.
Barely.
In mid-summer of 2005, I began to see light at the end of the tunnel.
I was wanting to get out into the world and free myself of the restraints of childhood and adolescents.
I wanted to explore and meet people.
After a while, I realized that I was hopeful.
I ended things (only to be on again/off again for another 6 months) with Chuck because as I was seeing the light, he wanted to keep ahold of me and my depression.
If I had stayed with him, I would surely not be here writing this. I would have made sure I'd have done it right.
At age 19, I moved to Texas and soon after, I started dating a guy with whom I worked. Bad idea. He introduced me to heavy drinking and drugs. I was on and off with him for 5 years, with other equally bad influencing boyfriends in between, one of who was a schizophrenic whose medicine was alcohol and cocaine.
When I was 20, I was diagnosed with cyclothymic bipolar disorder. That is when you experience the high highs of mania and the low lows of depression, but not in such a severe way as the first two levels of bipolar disorder, and it's more sporadic. It's a sub threshold of bipolar disorder.
I have had 3 other temporary periods of depression, all lasting about 5-8 months each.
Now I know what to do to keep my head above sinking level, even though I still (all too) often become manic, I haven't had a depressive period for over 2 years.
I eat (rather) healthy, I exercise, I avoid alcohol and drugs, and I live life to be happy.
I became a vegetarian at a young age and a vegan age 18. Staying away from dairy helps me really keep my mind sharp and focused. When I add into the equation actual healthy eating, it's multiplied by 10000. Clean eating is a definite bonus when struggling with mood disorders because feeling physically unwell is one more thing you don't have to worry about.
I make sure to get some exercise, be it a walk around the block, lifting weights, sports... anything to get the blood flowing and endorphins released, at least 5 times a week.
It's been over a year since I've stopped drinking and although I do miss those fruity little drinks, drinking is not as important as remembering the days I have with my family and friends. From ages 19-25, I drank like a filthy fish! I also don't smoke weed anymore. I don't have a problem with it, but personally, it unhinges me. I can't handle it. It gets me high and when I come off the high, I sink like a cement block.
I do things that make me happy. That's an important thing in life. I don't let little stresses get to me.
I am a fortunate individual because I do not regret ever having depression and going through this. It has made me a brick wall. I am strong as hell. It broke down my self-esteem, my confidence, my life, and I picked myself up and rebuilt a whole new me.
I am happy, I am joyful, and I have attained more patience and compassion than I would have, had I not prayed to God to take my life every night.
I ditched Christianity when I was 19 for something that makes more sense to me- Pagan Pantheism. Maybe not for everyone, but it works for me. No offense, Jesus.
I am no longer angry, lost, confused, or hopeless.
I am happy.
I am a white female who grew up with a loving family in middle class America. I never needed anything. I was never traumatized as a child.
I somehow became depressed. It's a chemical imbalance in your brain. it's not a racial or social status related disorder. It can be hereditary.
Depression effected me in more ways than I realized at the time. During my first and longest period of depression (which was about 2 1/2 years), I wanted to do nothing but sleep. I was so tired all the time. I didn't eat much. My entire body hurt. I got aches and pains all over. Everyday I had a headache, maybe that's why I wanted to sleep a lot.
On March 21, 2012, one of my closest friends, Anthony Trevino, lost his battle with depression and substance abuse. I miss him everyday.
If you are or you know someone who is or may be depressed, please get (them) help. It may save your life or theirs.
Friday, February 21, 2014
CR-1/K-3 Visa Process- the lovely little process that took us 11 months.
I realize that it's been quite some time since I've posted anything.
I've been quite busy.
By quite busy, I mean I've been quite lazy.
Well now that we finally arrived in Austin, TX, finally got settled in, and I finally got a job, I have a bit of time to tell this story.
I call it The Story of Time Standing Fucking Still.
Because that's what it felt like.
So it starts out in November of 2012, in La Florida, Santiago, Chile.
Felipe and I decided that despite us loving Chile, the United States was just a better choice for us.
I didn't know Spanish at the time, and Felipe is fluent is Spanish and English. I couldn't get a job there, Felipe could easily get one in the US. So we made the decision.
The day we made a final decision, we told his mom in his backyard and she started crying. I felt so bad. I felt like I was taking him from everything he's ever known, his entire family, his only friends.
But he was very excited.
So December 2012, we made a journey to the US Embassy, in the center of Santiago. We asked what we needed to start the process. We had a very nice lady tell us what we needed to do, although in retrospect, she was not of much help.
By mid-January, we had filled out and sent all of our paperwork for Felipe to go through the immigration process. I had to fill out a I-130 (petition for alien relative) form and a biographical information form, Felipe only had to do the biographical information form. We had to include 2 passport sized photos of each of us, and a payment of like $400 USD. We didn't have the money and even if we did, we couldn't send it to Homeland Security because they didn't accept electronic money orders and they didn't accept money from a non-American bank. So I am thankful my parents had the resources to help us out there.
On February 5th we got notice that the USCIS receive and had accepted our case.We were sooo happy and naive little us, we were celebrating and thought ''yeah, we'll be to the US by June!''
No.
So we played the waiting game for about 4 weeks, one week more than we should have for following information to the next step of the process. After 6 weeks, we called the USCIS and they kept telling us that there was a request for evidence (RFE) but they couldn't tell us what exactly it was. We thought it was to prove our relationship was genuine or something.
We kept waiting.
It was not until 4 months later, because we had never received the forms in Chile, I had to change my address to my parents in the US, THEN they got the forms, that we were notified that we somehow either didn't include two photos of each of us or they weren't the specific size. I'm not sure which it was. So we were delayed 4 months for fucking pictures.
We send the photos to my mom, she sends them to the USCIS in Chicago, and then within a week, in mid-June, we got information, a to do list, of what needed to be completed for the net step: NVC stage.
We had to pay the fees online and had to send my packet plus my parents' packet together and then Felipe's afterwards. My parents needed to provide a packet because they were the co-sponsors since I had no money, thus they were sponsoring Felipe to financially care for him for at least 5 years (legally, so he couldn't receive welfare benefits). So it included tax information, paycheck stubs, letters from employers, yada, yada. Mine included only tax information.
This stage is only supposed to last one month. We sent our things in around the middle of July, so of course we thought we'd be done by mid to late August.
It lasted until the end of September because:
With ALL of this paperwork we had to fill out, I didn't add my full name (by that I mean I didn't add my middle name, because there is a plethora of Dara Boyds in the world) to one area in one paper. So they notified my mom, which was who all the paperwork went to since Coree de Chile sucks and never delivered our shit, I had to change my mailing address to my parents' in Austin, TX.
So my mom added my full name and sent it back in, they sent it back saying that they needed my full name AND my updated signature after I added my name. Well hell.
So there was a lot of emailing and scanning at that time, well.. the entire time, but we had to do that to about 5 or 6 times.
We were at the beach, I believe it was September 18, for the Chilean independence holiday, and we got an email that finally said that we had a sufficient amount of evidence financially to move forward with our case.
Finally!
We had to sit tight for two weeks-they said, for an interview date at the US Embassy.
So we waited.
More.
And waited.
In mid October, like two weeks after they said we'd receive a date, we finally got one.
November 27, 2013.
I did probably an entire 24+ hours of emailing the Embassy, who were the NICEST and most patient people with me, from the time we received our date up until we left for the US.
We had to take an entire day to get Felipe's medical stuff done, which we got done about 3 weeks before the interview. We had to go to 3 different places in Santiago, luckily they were all very close, within walking distance of each other. Everything was fine with that, that was an rather easy process.
So interview day arrives.
We are scared and nervous and excited.
Almost puking our faces off with nervousness and I was more nervous because I wore shoes that had a little height on them (anyone who knows me knows that I can barely walk without shoes and watching me walk in heels is painfully hilarious).
As we drew closer and closer to the Embassy, somehow I became more relaxed.
I thought, ''We got this.''
So we entered and were the first ones there.... well, we were about an hour and a half early, haha, for fear of being late, I guess.
We sat there until our number was called.
When it was, we went to a window, like a bank teller except with a window in front of it, and it was an interview who asked some questions about how we met, our families, and our plans in the US.
Then she gave us some papers on spousal abuse....
We sat back down and waited to be called on again by the Consulate, who was the would who'd determined if it was a yay or nay.
After pretty much the same questions as the interviewer, it was a yay.
Yay!!!
So we had a few ''fiesta de despedida''s and they were a lot of fun, I cried at them! I was happy to return to the US, but as soon as I realized that I was leaving Chile and my family there, it really started to make me sad. We will see them again soon. Hopefully during the (our) summer (their winter)!
So we started packing and selling some of our things and we left Santiago, Chile at 3:30am on December 16, 2013. We had a layover in Panama City, Washington D.C., and finally ended in our destination- Austin, Texas.
We are finally here!
Now, in mid-February, we both have great jobs that we enjoy, planning his family's visit, and have a move back to Pennsylvania in mind to open a ''normal people'' spa... one that's affordable to everyone!
But until then, we will keep working and enjoying life together!
With Veda :)
I want to put this out there...
If you are going through the process, or any visa process, don't hesitate to ask any questions you have. I'll answer them the best that I can!
I've been quite busy.
By quite busy, I mean I've been quite lazy.
Well now that we finally arrived in Austin, TX, finally got settled in, and I finally got a job, I have a bit of time to tell this story.
I call it The Story of Time Standing Fucking Still.
Because that's what it felt like.
So it starts out in November of 2012, in La Florida, Santiago, Chile.
Felipe and I decided that despite us loving Chile, the United States was just a better choice for us.
I didn't know Spanish at the time, and Felipe is fluent is Spanish and English. I couldn't get a job there, Felipe could easily get one in the US. So we made the decision.
The day we made a final decision, we told his mom in his backyard and she started crying. I felt so bad. I felt like I was taking him from everything he's ever known, his entire family, his only friends.
But he was very excited.
So December 2012, we made a journey to the US Embassy, in the center of Santiago. We asked what we needed to start the process. We had a very nice lady tell us what we needed to do, although in retrospect, she was not of much help.
By mid-January, we had filled out and sent all of our paperwork for Felipe to go through the immigration process. I had to fill out a I-130 (petition for alien relative) form and a biographical information form, Felipe only had to do the biographical information form. We had to include 2 passport sized photos of each of us, and a payment of like $400 USD. We didn't have the money and even if we did, we couldn't send it to Homeland Security because they didn't accept electronic money orders and they didn't accept money from a non-American bank. So I am thankful my parents had the resources to help us out there.
On February 5th we got notice that the USCIS receive and had accepted our case.We were sooo happy and naive little us, we were celebrating and thought ''yeah, we'll be to the US by June!''
No.
So we played the waiting game for about 4 weeks, one week more than we should have for following information to the next step of the process. After 6 weeks, we called the USCIS and they kept telling us that there was a request for evidence (RFE) but they couldn't tell us what exactly it was. We thought it was to prove our relationship was genuine or something.
We kept waiting.
It was not until 4 months later, because we had never received the forms in Chile, I had to change my address to my parents in the US, THEN they got the forms, that we were notified that we somehow either didn't include two photos of each of us or they weren't the specific size. I'm not sure which it was. So we were delayed 4 months for fucking pictures.
We send the photos to my mom, she sends them to the USCIS in Chicago, and then within a week, in mid-June, we got information, a to do list, of what needed to be completed for the net step: NVC stage.
We had to pay the fees online and had to send my packet plus my parents' packet together and then Felipe's afterwards. My parents needed to provide a packet because they were the co-sponsors since I had no money, thus they were sponsoring Felipe to financially care for him for at least 5 years (legally, so he couldn't receive welfare benefits). So it included tax information, paycheck stubs, letters from employers, yada, yada. Mine included only tax information.
This stage is only supposed to last one month. We sent our things in around the middle of July, so of course we thought we'd be done by mid to late August.
It lasted until the end of September because:
With ALL of this paperwork we had to fill out, I didn't add my full name (by that I mean I didn't add my middle name, because there is a plethora of Dara Boyds in the world) to one area in one paper. So they notified my mom, which was who all the paperwork went to since Coree de Chile sucks and never delivered our shit, I had to change my mailing address to my parents' in Austin, TX.
So my mom added my full name and sent it back in, they sent it back saying that they needed my full name AND my updated signature after I added my name. Well hell.
So there was a lot of emailing and scanning at that time, well.. the entire time, but we had to do that to about 5 or 6 times.
We were at the beach, I believe it was September 18, for the Chilean independence holiday, and we got an email that finally said that we had a sufficient amount of evidence financially to move forward with our case.
Finally!
We had to sit tight for two weeks-they said, for an interview date at the US Embassy.
So we waited.
More.
And waited.
In mid October, like two weeks after they said we'd receive a date, we finally got one.
November 27, 2013.
I did probably an entire 24+ hours of emailing the Embassy, who were the NICEST and most patient people with me, from the time we received our date up until we left for the US.
We had to take an entire day to get Felipe's medical stuff done, which we got done about 3 weeks before the interview. We had to go to 3 different places in Santiago, luckily they were all very close, within walking distance of each other. Everything was fine with that, that was an rather easy process.
So interview day arrives.
We are scared and nervous and excited.
Almost puking our faces off with nervousness and I was more nervous because I wore shoes that had a little height on them (anyone who knows me knows that I can barely walk without shoes and watching me walk in heels is painfully hilarious).
As we drew closer and closer to the Embassy, somehow I became more relaxed.
I thought, ''We got this.''
So we entered and were the first ones there.... well, we were about an hour and a half early, haha, for fear of being late, I guess.
We sat there until our number was called.
When it was, we went to a window, like a bank teller except with a window in front of it, and it was an interview who asked some questions about how we met, our families, and our plans in the US.
Then she gave us some papers on spousal abuse....
We sat back down and waited to be called on again by the Consulate, who was the would who'd determined if it was a yay or nay.
After pretty much the same questions as the interviewer, it was a yay.
Yay!!!
 | |
| Interview Day! |
So we had a few ''fiesta de despedida''s and they were a lot of fun, I cried at them! I was happy to return to the US, but as soon as I realized that I was leaving Chile and my family there, it really started to make me sad. We will see them again soon. Hopefully during the (our) summer (their winter)!
 | |
| Cony (youngest sister-in-law), Jorge (father-in-law), me, Felipe, Fabiola (mother-in-law), Nathalia (sister-in-law) |
So we started packing and selling some of our things and we left Santiago, Chile at 3:30am on December 16, 2013. We had a layover in Panama City, Washington D.C., and finally ended in our destination- Austin, Texas.
 | |
| Us in the Dulles airport in DC |
Now, in mid-February, we both have great jobs that we enjoy, planning his family's visit, and have a move back to Pennsylvania in mind to open a ''normal people'' spa... one that's affordable to everyone!
But until then, we will keep working and enjoying life together!
With Veda :)
I want to put this out there...
If you are going through the process, or any visa process, don't hesitate to ask any questions you have. I'll answer them the best that I can!
Friday, October 11, 2013
Fat Americans.
We finally got a date for our visa interview!
November 27, 2013. But we're trying to get an earlier date since my temporary residence visa expires the day before and we'd have to pay $200 to renew it for another year, even though we'll only be here for like a 10 days to 2 weeks more.
Today at lunch we were talking about some differences between the US and Chile and I mentioned that (at least here in Santiago) it's a bit difficult to keep in shape and exercise unless you like to walk, run, bike, have money for a gym, or are disciplined enough to do strength training at home. And in the US, we have community and rec centers for kid, teen, and adult sports leagues, schools have sports, there are gyms, and even f you're in a city, there are usually places to go hiking, biking, and sometimes even a river to go kayaking. I'm a firm believer that exercise should be fun because if it's not fun, it's a chore, and who wants to do ''chores'' in their free time, right? So my youngest sister-in-law, Cony, asked why are Americans so fat?
Now I've been living here for a year and a half and have not heard one good thing about the US or its inhabitants. It seems as if it's always the people who have never been there who shit talk it. Hmmm...
So anyway, I take it rather personally.. why wouldn't I? I only ever heard bad things said about my country and the people from it. There are so many reasons why Americans are chubbier than the average Chilean, although I have noticed that the people here see to think that if someone isn't skin and bone skinny, they're considered chubby.
The cultures between the two countries are so different, they're barely comparable.
First is I think the genetic makeup of the people. People who are descended from certain ethnic groups of Africa, Europe (Nordic, Germanic), and the Pacific Islands (Samoa, Hawaii) sometimes are just bigger in height and weight than say, a Korean person, who tend to be very thin and short. Wth the genetic makeup also comes how your body reacts to food. Some people come from naturally thin families, some people come from bigger families. VChildhood obesity is a huge problem in the US, and children who are obese are proven to have much more trouble losing that weight as teenagers and adults. That happens from their parents not feeding them proper nutrition.
Every area of the country is very different; different culture within a certain state or few states. With that, comes different eatin habits, cooking styles, and cuisine. Here you go most places and you get the same types of food. Always.
Another reason is college. Here, for the most part, students don't travel across the country for a college education. Most of the colleges are in Santiago, so like Felipe's other sister, Nathalia, she goes to class in the morning, takes a homemade lunch with her, then comes back for tea time at night. In the US, people go off to college, live there, and eat the food there that they have on their meal plan. I worked at Mount St. Mary's University in Maryland for almost 2 years in the ''Mount Cafe'', where the students would come at night and get food. It was not healthy food and most of the time, we'd run out of the yogurt parfaits, fruit/veggies cups, and premade salads/sandwiches since there weren't many to begin with. We serves fried food, wings, burgers, and pretty much nothing under 500 calories. Ya ever heard of the ''freshman fifteen''? It's because the schools don't provide the best foods for students... they provide the cheapest.
Then we have birth control. I was on birth control for one month when I was 20. I rode my bike everyday and ate extremely healthy... but from the hormone imbalance, I gained 4 pounds. In a month.
There is also people living in poverty who need food stamps to help feed their families. If you have 3 kids to feed, you're going to make sure they're fed. I remember comparing 6 organic apples at $8 (and some odd cents) and 8 boxes of store brand mac and cheese for the same price.
Yeah, I get it, Americans eat a lot of food. We eat big portions of unhealthy food, but I feel like some people think that chubby people are lazy. That is not the case. Well... not always. I'm a bit chubby now because I'm lazy.
Okay this was horribly written, but it was written in a state of ''peeved off''.
Within the next week, I'll write about other things.
So.... later.
November 27, 2013. But we're trying to get an earlier date since my temporary residence visa expires the day before and we'd have to pay $200 to renew it for another year, even though we'll only be here for like a 10 days to 2 weeks more.
Today at lunch we were talking about some differences between the US and Chile and I mentioned that (at least here in Santiago) it's a bit difficult to keep in shape and exercise unless you like to walk, run, bike, have money for a gym, or are disciplined enough to do strength training at home. And in the US, we have community and rec centers for kid, teen, and adult sports leagues, schools have sports, there are gyms, and even f you're in a city, there are usually places to go hiking, biking, and sometimes even a river to go kayaking. I'm a firm believer that exercise should be fun because if it's not fun, it's a chore, and who wants to do ''chores'' in their free time, right? So my youngest sister-in-law, Cony, asked why are Americans so fat?
Now I've been living here for a year and a half and have not heard one good thing about the US or its inhabitants. It seems as if it's always the people who have never been there who shit talk it. Hmmm...
So anyway, I take it rather personally.. why wouldn't I? I only ever heard bad things said about my country and the people from it. There are so many reasons why Americans are chubbier than the average Chilean, although I have noticed that the people here see to think that if someone isn't skin and bone skinny, they're considered chubby.
The cultures between the two countries are so different, they're barely comparable.
First is I think the genetic makeup of the people. People who are descended from certain ethnic groups of Africa, Europe (Nordic, Germanic), and the Pacific Islands (Samoa, Hawaii) sometimes are just bigger in height and weight than say, a Korean person, who tend to be very thin and short. Wth the genetic makeup also comes how your body reacts to food. Some people come from naturally thin families, some people come from bigger families. VChildhood obesity is a huge problem in the US, and children who are obese are proven to have much more trouble losing that weight as teenagers and adults. That happens from their parents not feeding them proper nutrition.
Every area of the country is very different; different culture within a certain state or few states. With that, comes different eatin habits, cooking styles, and cuisine. Here you go most places and you get the same types of food. Always.
Another reason is college. Here, for the most part, students don't travel across the country for a college education. Most of the colleges are in Santiago, so like Felipe's other sister, Nathalia, she goes to class in the morning, takes a homemade lunch with her, then comes back for tea time at night. In the US, people go off to college, live there, and eat the food there that they have on their meal plan. I worked at Mount St. Mary's University in Maryland for almost 2 years in the ''Mount Cafe'', where the students would come at night and get food. It was not healthy food and most of the time, we'd run out of the yogurt parfaits, fruit/veggies cups, and premade salads/sandwiches since there weren't many to begin with. We serves fried food, wings, burgers, and pretty much nothing under 500 calories. Ya ever heard of the ''freshman fifteen''? It's because the schools don't provide the best foods for students... they provide the cheapest.
Then we have birth control. I was on birth control for one month when I was 20. I rode my bike everyday and ate extremely healthy... but from the hormone imbalance, I gained 4 pounds. In a month.
There is also people living in poverty who need food stamps to help feed their families. If you have 3 kids to feed, you're going to make sure they're fed. I remember comparing 6 organic apples at $8 (and some odd cents) and 8 boxes of store brand mac and cheese for the same price.
Yeah, I get it, Americans eat a lot of food. We eat big portions of unhealthy food, but I feel like some people think that chubby people are lazy. That is not the case. Well... not always. I'm a bit chubby now because I'm lazy.
Okay this was horribly written, but it was written in a state of ''peeved off''.
Within the next week, I'll write about other things.
So.... later.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
Hope for Humanity.
http://listverse.com/2013/09/26/10-shocking-realities-of-modern-poverty/ <--- This.... is not okay.
I had a dream two night ago (that I am convinced is prophetic) about me establishing and opening a non-profit community center called Hope for Humanity.
It was an awesome dream.
So here is a little history for the reason why I want to do this before going into what exactly I'd like to offer at this community center:
I was lucky enough to grow up in middle class America. Unless my parents hid any financial struggles from us (my brother and I), we never wanted or needed anything. I had a really great childhood. We got tons of presents for our birthdays and Christmas, we got big baskets of candy for small toys for Easter, we never went a summer without a week (or so) long vacation. Growing up, I thought that was how everyone lived, so I was very ignorant towards poverty since I never experienced it.
And it wasn't until I was about 21, when I moved in with a (ex) boyfriend and we lived together (on and off) for like 2 years until he decided to leave his job when he didn't have one lined up (I did the same a year earlier although the job that I had lined up became unavailable at the last minute). He had two kids, we had two dogs, two cars, and lived in an $1050 (after rent and utils) 3 bed/2 bath duplex in Live Oak, Texas.
We got our water turned off for like 3 weeks, our electricity got turned off for 2 days, and we NEVER had any food. We ate what I brought home from work. After he started a job, ironically, about a month after, we had a lot of problems with our landlord because the original owners of the duplex sold property to another guy who raised the rent $150 a month more and failed to let us and I think the people who lived next to us, know. So court battles and all, we got evicted. And I had to leave my bigger dog with our next door neighbors and last time I saw him was August of 2010 :-(
Luckily, fortunately, that is my only experience with poverty. I was extremely fortunate in that aspect.
In my hometown, there was a YMCA where my mom worked for 17 years (she was sort of the glue that held that place together) and I'd go there everyday after school, I was a very active kid, creative, and always enjoyed going to the Y for sports or to hang out with my friends. When I was about 14, the Littlestown Y hired a new sports director named Mick Harner. On Friday nights there was indoor floor hockey that I was really into and I'd always end up sitting around and talking with him afterwards. I always saw him as kind of a mentor because he really made me think about what I was doing in life, and I give him credit for me allowing myself to have or try out a ton of ideas since we all need to find our calling.
I believe that everyone, no matter who they are, where they come from, or what their history is (sound like a Backstreet Boys song yet?), deserves a decent life. In my dream (and this is my goal) I had established and opened a community center that provides many services for lower class and poverty stricken families.
Here are some of the services I'd lvoe to provide:
°Classes such as English (for non-English speaking individuals), Spanish (because being bilingual is a huge benefit now), healthy cooking, urban farming (container gardening, vertical gardening, urban livestock), art, music, and also have tutors for children who need help understanding their schoolwork so they can do better and have a brighter future.
°Day care, after school care, and holiday/vacation care for school age kids whose parents are having a hard time affording expensive day care.
°A gym for kids, teens, and adults who enjoy being active, social, and playing on community sports teams.
°A healing center where members can take yoga and pilates classes, a meditation room, and receive massage and reiki treatments (as a massage therapist, I have to point out that massage is NOT a luxury, it's very much a necessity, especially for peope whoa re struggling with poverty).
°I'd love to have a HUGE community garden where people who are taking urban farming classes can pratice (or others can volunteer), for families who can't necessarily afford to aways eat local, fresh produce.
°Also, since I can never leave animals out of my mind, I'd love to have an animal shelter on the property where people who can't have pets (for any reason) can enjoy the company of some animals and kids to learn a bit of responsibility of caring for animals.
° I'd like to offer addiction rehabilitation programs with life coaching.
°Mentoring programs.
°Soup kitchen.
°And also perhaps if I can get a big enough building, an area for families without a home to stay until they can pick themselves up.
I realize (I say that but I probably have no idea) the work involved in this, I've done a lot of research. But I have had a wonderful life, I have been blessed with having my needs and even wants met. I need to give back. Send positive energy into the Universe so others can receive it. I need people to know that they are cared about and there ARE people willing to help them.
I'd hold a lot of fundraisers and do whatever I can to fund the center and I'd like to get kids to learn the value of giving back also, for example, I'd like for the holiday/vacation programs to go on field trips to elderly homes to visit with the elderly who don't really have family who visit, to visit terminally ill patients in hospitals and maybe make some art or something for them, etc...
I realize that this is a dream and a big one, but I won't let that deter me from doing all that I can to achieve it.
I had a dream two night ago (that I am convinced is prophetic) about me establishing and opening a non-profit community center called Hope for Humanity.
It was an awesome dream.
So here is a little history for the reason why I want to do this before going into what exactly I'd like to offer at this community center:
I was lucky enough to grow up in middle class America. Unless my parents hid any financial struggles from us (my brother and I), we never wanted or needed anything. I had a really great childhood. We got tons of presents for our birthdays and Christmas, we got big baskets of candy for small toys for Easter, we never went a summer without a week (or so) long vacation. Growing up, I thought that was how everyone lived, so I was very ignorant towards poverty since I never experienced it.
And it wasn't until I was about 21, when I moved in with a (ex) boyfriend and we lived together (on and off) for like 2 years until he decided to leave his job when he didn't have one lined up (I did the same a year earlier although the job that I had lined up became unavailable at the last minute). He had two kids, we had two dogs, two cars, and lived in an $1050 (after rent and utils) 3 bed/2 bath duplex in Live Oak, Texas.
We got our water turned off for like 3 weeks, our electricity got turned off for 2 days, and we NEVER had any food. We ate what I brought home from work. After he started a job, ironically, about a month after, we had a lot of problems with our landlord because the original owners of the duplex sold property to another guy who raised the rent $150 a month more and failed to let us and I think the people who lived next to us, know. So court battles and all, we got evicted. And I had to leave my bigger dog with our next door neighbors and last time I saw him was August of 2010 :-(
Luckily, fortunately, that is my only experience with poverty. I was extremely fortunate in that aspect.
In my hometown, there was a YMCA where my mom worked for 17 years (she was sort of the glue that held that place together) and I'd go there everyday after school, I was a very active kid, creative, and always enjoyed going to the Y for sports or to hang out with my friends. When I was about 14, the Littlestown Y hired a new sports director named Mick Harner. On Friday nights there was indoor floor hockey that I was really into and I'd always end up sitting around and talking with him afterwards. I always saw him as kind of a mentor because he really made me think about what I was doing in life, and I give him credit for me allowing myself to have or try out a ton of ideas since we all need to find our calling.
I believe that everyone, no matter who they are, where they come from, or what their history is (sound like a Backstreet Boys song yet?), deserves a decent life. In my dream (and this is my goal) I had established and opened a community center that provides many services for lower class and poverty stricken families.
Here are some of the services I'd lvoe to provide:
°Classes such as English (for non-English speaking individuals), Spanish (because being bilingual is a huge benefit now), healthy cooking, urban farming (container gardening, vertical gardening, urban livestock), art, music, and also have tutors for children who need help understanding their schoolwork so they can do better and have a brighter future.
°Day care, after school care, and holiday/vacation care for school age kids whose parents are having a hard time affording expensive day care.
°A gym for kids, teens, and adults who enjoy being active, social, and playing on community sports teams.
°A healing center where members can take yoga and pilates classes, a meditation room, and receive massage and reiki treatments (as a massage therapist, I have to point out that massage is NOT a luxury, it's very much a necessity, especially for peope whoa re struggling with poverty).
°I'd love to have a HUGE community garden where people who are taking urban farming classes can pratice (or others can volunteer), for families who can't necessarily afford to aways eat local, fresh produce.
°Also, since I can never leave animals out of my mind, I'd love to have an animal shelter on the property where people who can't have pets (for any reason) can enjoy the company of some animals and kids to learn a bit of responsibility of caring for animals.
° I'd like to offer addiction rehabilitation programs with life coaching.
°Mentoring programs.
°Soup kitchen.
°And also perhaps if I can get a big enough building, an area for families without a home to stay until they can pick themselves up.
I realize (I say that but I probably have no idea) the work involved in this, I've done a lot of research. But I have had a wonderful life, I have been blessed with having my needs and even wants met. I need to give back. Send positive energy into the Universe so others can receive it. I need people to know that they are cared about and there ARE people willing to help them.
I'd hold a lot of fundraisers and do whatever I can to fund the center and I'd like to get kids to learn the value of giving back also, for example, I'd like for the holiday/vacation programs to go on field trips to elderly homes to visit with the elderly who don't really have family who visit, to visit terminally ill patients in hospitals and maybe make some art or something for them, etc...
I realize that this is a dream and a big one, but I won't let that deter me from doing all that I can to achieve it.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Forgiving but Never Forgetting.
Friends come and go, but most of the
time when they go, someone is left with the feeling of a knife in
their back, usually stabbing through their heart.
I don't really know how people can
fully forgive if they cannot forget.
I've tried it.
It's very difficult.
I've had many people in my 26 years who
have done me wrong and I've forgiven some of them--- or at least I
think I have. All of my life, I have been loyal to those who I
believe have gained my loyalty, be it with friends, family members,
or boyfriends. I would ALWAYS be there for them whenever they'd ask,
to help comfort, move, let loose, give advice, cheer up, financial
problems (as much as I could)... whatever they needed/wanted, I
usually gave it to them without question of their motives because
well, if they're someone close to your heart, why would you be
suspicious of them, right? And I prided myself very much on being
loyalm trustworthy, and a good friend, without being two-faced (I
admit though, I HAVE talked behind the back of coworkers because I
was angry at them, I'm not claiming to be an angel here), my mom
always taught me that to be two-faced, tell secrets in confidence to
others, or just plain be unloyal to those closest to our hearts is
immature and just plain mean, and I didn't want to be that person
since I knew so many of them.
When I was growing up in school and
all, I didn't have a ton of friends, I knew a lot of people and
talked to them, but there were only 3 times when I had a ''group of
friends'', once in 5th grade and once in 6th
grade. They both included my best friend.
Erin Shiloh.
I met her in kinder-prep when we were 4
and we became best friends instantly by me telling my mom that I
wanted to invite the ''girl with the long brown hair'' to my birthday
party.
We were pretty inseparable for like, 10
years.I never had any sisters but I always loved her like one. We
spent so much time together people even said we were starting to look
alike, our birthdays were close together, and I LOVED it when she
moved up the road to me.
I was protective of her, I did my best
to always be there for her when her parents went through a divorce,
when she fought with her siblings, whenever. I was never a person who
was into having a lot of friends, I didn't mind it if I did or
didn't, but I always liked having that one best friend. For years, it
was her, despite not feeling always on the same level as her. She was
more dramatic about well, everything and cared (what I thought was)
way too much of what others thought of her and how she appeared to
everyone, whereas I didn't care and never really did. That was
probably why I never really had too many friends, ever since
kindergarten, I was called weird. After a while, I took pride in
that.
I was the weird girl.
And I didn't even have to try.
She never seemed to care until we were
in public and she's say, ''Dara.... people are staring at you...''
which started happening around the time we were in 9th
grade, so what... 14 years old?
In 5th grade, she was in a
class with a girl named Kellie Coleman who she made friends with and
I was in a class with Kellie's best friend Emily Schumaker, who I
made friends with. I'd never had a group of friends before that and
it felt good to be included in something. Over the course of the
year, I'd noticed that Erin would become a bit mean towards me at
times, especially when Kellie was around. It got pretty annoying but
I never wanted to confront her, for fear that I'd lose her as a
friend. Then Kellie and Emily would become mean to me and I ended up
feeling ganged up on, especially if we were having a slumber party
with the 4 of us, and they'd tell me to wait for them downstairs and
they'd be down in a few minutes, only for me to find out that they
had no intention of meeting me and they'd lock the door to the room
that they were in. Once at th concession stand after a softball game
that we'd played in, Erin, Kellie, and I were getting some soda and
candy, while they had gotten their stuff, I was still waiting for my
soda, and Kellie whispered something to Erin, they giggled, and ran
off without me. Kellie was a very skinny girl and I'd always been
bigger, not necessarily fatter, but always tall and muscular, and at
times in my life, a little chubby but not overweight. She'd always
point out to everyone how skinny she was and how much bigger I was
than her.
Just mean, unnecessary things like
that.
Throughout middle school I was bullied
by people and even though she was my best friend, Erin never had my
back. And we'd both met other people who became our friends, she
always ended up being on their side of making fun of me. I still
don't know why. Maybe I was blind to it at the time.
We kept the general group of friends
from 6th grade until 9th-10th grade, which
consisted of myself, Erin, Kara Smith, Tyler Koontz, Adam Weller, and
Katie Wilson. We all got along so well and it was great because there
was hardly ever any drama between us. We could all hang out and act
silly together and still laugh at ourselves and each other.
I met Katie in first grade, we became
better friends in 6th grade, and great friends in 9th
grade. We had a lot in common, one of the things we did together was
go in public and talk in different accents. It was oddly fun for us,
haha.
Anyway, during 9th and 10th
grade, we were all in track and field together, minus Tyler, so after
school in the spring, we were always together. Kara, Tyler, and I
went to the same church, Erin and Adam were pretty religious (as was
I at the time), so we did churchy things together. We all just had
connections with each other. Adam and I had become very close for a
number of reasons (nothing romantic, as I think he recently came out
as gay, as did Tyler).
During 10th grade, I met a
guy who would have never fit into the group and I didn't try inviting
him in, I just spent time with him outside of it. His name was Chuck
Hamm.
During the summer of 2003, between 10th
and 11th grade for me, I kept meeting up with Chuck and
Erin always protested about it because h had long hair, rode a
skateboard, and looked as if he didn't have a lot of money, or
something extremely shallow.
At the end of the summer, he became my
boyfriend.
During the fall of 2003, I didn't see
Erin as much as I used to, I was involved in the school tennis team
which took up a lot of my time, I had a job which kept me busy on
Saturdays, and whenever I wasn't at tennis practice, and I ended up
spending most of my free time with Chuck, as Erin spent most of her
free time with whoever her boyfriend was at the time.
Also during that time, I became
severely depressed.
I don't know why or how, it just
happened, an no one, not my friends nor my family, or even I,
understood the cause for it.
It really changed me, as depression
does, I was not the smiling and laughing happy-go-lucky teenager with
hopes of the future anymore, I was angry, sad, and joyless.
I think Erin blamed it on Chuck, but it
had nothing to do with him. I think a lot of people blamed him. It
just happened that we started dating and depression began. He was not
mean or abusive towards me, he loved me and supported me.
I think it was around October or
November when I called Erin up, after not really talking to her in
school much since we had no classes together, and we were both busy
with other things in our free time.
I told her that in school they told us
to always tell people when we experience this... and she cut me off
and asked if I had tried drugs.
What..???
Drugs? Why would she even say that? She
knew that I had no intentions of desire of that.
I told her that I had suicidal
thoughts.
She then said that she couldn't talk at
the moment because her boyfriend would be there any minute, and asked
if she could call back later.
That is when our friendship ended.
The rest of the school year we sort of
ignored each other and Katie and I had become closerand I appreciate
her support. We're still very good friends to this day.
Fast forward to the beginnin of 12th
grade... the first day of school Erin wrote me a note... wrote me a
note, not talked to my face, and said that I'd changed and she was
afraid for my well-being and blah blah blah. Katie and I, that night,
concocted a reply that wasn't the nicest, it wasn't mean like calling
her a bitch, which he had turned into, a stuck up one at that, it was
more sarcasm.
I saw her in the hallway the next day
and threw it at her, she read it, for some reason thought that I was
threatening her, and then all the friends that we had together..
Kara, Tyler, Adam, and pretty much all the other ones, took her side,
and I lost them.
Over the years I've tried to make peace
with her without success until a few years ago, I just stopped
fucking caring. I didn't want to throw a friendship like away but as
I look back, she was never much of a friend to begin with, she was
just a selfish bitch who wanted someone to boss around.
When I was 20, I met a guy, Joshua
Harrington, through a friend who eventually became a boyfriend of
mine and I moved from San Antonio, Texas to Nampa, Idaho for him. He
claimed and believe himself to be a good Christian and aprophet of
God, but he ended up lying to me about almost everything, hiding the
fact that he sold cocaine from the duplex that we rented together,
mistreating my family and friends, stealing from stores everything we
had in our place, beating me up, and cheating on me with 6 other
girls... in the bed that we shared, all the while telling me that I'm
the apple of his eye, I'm his soulmate, he loved only me.
It took a piece of my heart, knowing
that I moved to a place that I did not know or even really like for
him, that I put up with his nutty ass family for him, and that for 4
months, I gave him my trust.
A lot of people have asked why I stayed
with him after he started hitting me and I don't know. My mom is
convinced that he somehow brain washed me and I am inclined to
believe that that's an accurate assumption. I never thought I'd be
one of ''those'' chicks, who stayed with a guy who abused them.. but
I did. He tore me down and brought me back up, thinking that he
helped me gain self esteem. If I were still a Christian, I'd believe
he was the devil incarnate. 3 years ago he messaged me on Myspace (I
know... Myspace...). That is the last I heard from him and good
riddance to that monster.
When I was 21 I met a guy who joined my
work team at a cafe in San Antonio. His name was Miguel Morales and
when we met, we both instantly lusted after each other. He was 10
years older than me but it didn't matter. At the time, I was dating
(and living with) a guy who was 16 years older than me. I felt so
attracted to Miguel and felt so guilty for it, so I ended up ending
this with my then boyfriend. He thought that I cheated on him with
Miguel but I never did, never even considered it.
Miguel and I became incredibly close
friends and we started falling for each other. I helped him with
money, I helped him move twice,gave him rides to work when he lived
across the entire city, I went so far out of my way to make him
happy, I looked like a fool! I should have known a that time that he
was not as interested in me as I was him when he never really asked
me out. Lots of drama happened between us for the fault of us both,
and he moved to Austin.
It took a year for him to finally ask
me on a date. I was so happy. We went out to a Mexican restaurant,
ooops... he forgot his wallet! I paid. I paid for a hotel room since
by the time he was going to go home (from San Antonio to Austin) it
was already 4:30am. We sat on the bed talking about what's been going
on with each other the past few months, and he told me....everything
that I wanted to hear. He wanted to be my boyfriend, he thought that
he was ready to show me how much he cared for me, that I as perfect,
he apologized for flirting with other women in front of me when we
went out, and all these things.
The next day was Halloween (2009) and I
texted him to come back to San Antonio for a party after I got off
work. He agreed. We went there together, as a couple, and everyone we
were friends with at my job (his previous job) were happy that we
were together.
We both talked to different people at
the party, and I talked into the living room where most of the people
are gathered, a friend of ours tried to push me out, and I knew
something was wrong.
A 17 year old red head was sitting on
his lap...making out with him.
Ouch.
After all he said to me the night
before.
Right through the heart.
I was so angry with him and told him
everything that I needed to tell him, then I left. We lost contact
for about a year or so, then we connected on Facebook. I ended up
deleting him from Facebook and my life after I told my now husband
about him. I don't blame Felipe for being angry and awkward about
that.
Those are three of largest scars I have
of knives in my back. I just wanted to make these people happy, they
saw that and used me like a fucking doormat. Although these
experiences were so hurtful, they were not in vain. I learned a lot
about myself and others through them.
I have forgiven what Joshua Harrington
has done to me because he was/is a severely misguided idiot,
borderline sociopath. I believe. I will never, EVER forget it.
I have forgiven Miguel Morales for what
he did to me because he was a selfish person who I just happened
across and took advantage of my loyalty. I will never forget what he
did to me.
I have not forgiven Erin Shiloh. I have
tried but 12 years of loyal friendship should not equal ''go ahead
and kill yourself, I want boyfriend time''.
I don't know how people forgive and
forget so easily, or forgive and not forget. Some people say that
forgiveness brings inner tranquility. I have not experienced inner
tranquility.
Perhaps I haven't truly forgiven them
afterall.
Friday, September 13, 2013
Dream Theatre: Grey Castle (Part I)
So
I have had some extremely wild dreams, horrifingly disturbing and
ridiculously adventurous, and I remember them all since I was about 14.
I'm guessing due to my oddly active imagination, my love for symbolism,
involuntary astral projection, and life experiences, these dreams
happen.
A good friend of mine, Abhinandan, from India is a filmmaker and we had a conversation once about these dreams and my memory of them, and he suggested that I write one in story format, and he'd make a film about it. How rad, right??? So here is the first part of a very frightening dream that I had in June of 2007. He is calling this the Dream Theatre. There are 3 pictures which he drew to illustrate a bit of what was going on in the dream, like visuals. I know there are probably grammatical or spelling mistakes, but I'm not writing a novel, I'm writing my dream.
A little history and my analysis of this dream: I had just been in a pretty horrible relationship with an abusive guy who really had me thinking me was someone else at the beginning. I ended up moving from Texas to Idaho for him and although I only lived there for 4 months, I felt as if I'd never get away from him. I think this dream symbolizes the deepest fears that I had during that time and also that I was never seen, never heard, and when I was heard, I was not only laughed at for speaking up, I was made to feel as if I had no worth simply because I am a female.
So without further adieu, here is Dream Theatre: Grey Castle:
I woke up to find myself without shoes, my hair unwashed matted to the side of my face, and wearing a tattered white gown. I rubbed my eyes and look around me. I was lying in grass. It was green to the point of being surreal. There were birds that are chirping happily. I was in a field surrounded by a lush forest. It was so beautiful. I was in a trance from it. I heard singing and laughter and talking and music in the forest. It seemed so joyful, it drew me in. I wanted to know where it came from. I got up, and although everything seemed so full of life and in good spirits, I could not even force a smile. At that point, I was not sure why. But I would soon find out.
That was the only colour I have seen since I've entered the castle.
A good friend of mine, Abhinandan, from India is a filmmaker and we had a conversation once about these dreams and my memory of them, and he suggested that I write one in story format, and he'd make a film about it. How rad, right??? So here is the first part of a very frightening dream that I had in June of 2007. He is calling this the Dream Theatre. There are 3 pictures which he drew to illustrate a bit of what was going on in the dream, like visuals. I know there are probably grammatical or spelling mistakes, but I'm not writing a novel, I'm writing my dream.
A little history and my analysis of this dream: I had just been in a pretty horrible relationship with an abusive guy who really had me thinking me was someone else at the beginning. I ended up moving from Texas to Idaho for him and although I only lived there for 4 months, I felt as if I'd never get away from him. I think this dream symbolizes the deepest fears that I had during that time and also that I was never seen, never heard, and when I was heard, I was not only laughed at for speaking up, I was made to feel as if I had no worth simply because I am a female.
So without further adieu, here is Dream Theatre: Grey Castle:
I woke up to find myself without shoes, my hair unwashed matted to the side of my face, and wearing a tattered white gown. I rubbed my eyes and look around me. I was lying in grass. It was green to the point of being surreal. There were birds that are chirping happily. I was in a field surrounded by a lush forest. It was so beautiful. I was in a trance from it. I heard singing and laughter and talking and music in the forest. It seemed so joyful, it drew me in. I wanted to know where it came from. I got up, and although everything seemed so full of life and in good spirits, I could not even force a smile. At that point, I was not sure why. But I would soon find out.
I started talking towards this
siren-like singing and guitar playing, and as I got closer, the music
became more intense. I soon started hearing big drums.. a timpany,
bongos. Piano keys being pounded with fury instead of joyful tunes.
I entered the forest. The sunlight
disappeared. The music ceased. The birds stopped chirping.
I looked down at my feet and noticed that there was a mist rising so quickly from the ground that by the time I realized it, I could no longer see my knees. My thighs. My stomach. I could not see what was right in front of me. I reached my arms out, trying to find my way. I wasn't even sure where exactly I was going. I was freezing cold and wet, as if I had just got done swimming in the north Atlanic Ocean in the middle of January. After a few minutes of silence, I started hearing what sounded like a woman screaming. Not in fear, but in pain. As if someone was tearing out her organs. I ran around in what seemed like circles trying to find her, buther screams did not seem to get any closer and finally, after running and running without any luck of discovering where she may have been... her screams ended. I don't know what they meant, but I assume it was a warning of what was to come.
I looked down at my feet and noticed that there was a mist rising so quickly from the ground that by the time I realized it, I could no longer see my knees. My thighs. My stomach. I could not see what was right in front of me. I reached my arms out, trying to find my way. I wasn't even sure where exactly I was going. I was freezing cold and wet, as if I had just got done swimming in the north Atlanic Ocean in the middle of January. After a few minutes of silence, I started hearing what sounded like a woman screaming. Not in fear, but in pain. As if someone was tearing out her organs. I ran around in what seemed like circles trying to find her, buther screams did not seem to get any closer and finally, after running and running without any luck of discovering where she may have been... her screams ended. I don't know what they meant, but I assume it was a warning of what was to come.
I was scared, lonely, and still in a
state of confusion as to how I had gotten to the forest. After
wandering around the misty forest for some time, I remembered the
music and singing and laughter. What then had really confused me, is
how I had gotten to the field. I lived nowhere near a field like
that. It was as if I had been abducted and laid carefully there, with
a tattered dress, empty stomach, and unwashed body, as if the
abductor was showing me hat horrible things they did to me yet had
enough mercy to allow me to keep my life.
Suddenly I heard a crow. I stopped
pondering and realized that I could see something. Barely. But it was
definitely something. I started walking with haste. Then flat out
sprinting towards it. I stopped when I saw that if I had gone an inch
forward, I would have fallen off a cliff.
I was out of the woods. I looked back
at them. Then ahead. Back at them. The ahead.
Ahead was what you see in old Dracula
movies. A bridge of a small sliver of land, just wide enough to cross
to the towering black castle with ravens and crows and bats circling
it. They eeked and cawed and crowed so loudly that their echoes were
boomeranged back to them. I couldn't see what was below the castle.
It was like it's own island. The mist still existed, but most things
were visible. I could see my hands in front of me. My stomach, My
knees. My feet. My dirty, cut up, bleeding feet.
I looked back at the woods once more
before crossing the land bridge to the castle. The only thing only
thing on my mind at that time was eating something. Anything. I was
dizzy and needed to raise my blood sugar levels or I'd be sure to
pass out not only from lack of essential vitamins for my body, but
from pure exhaustion. I cross the land bridge in 30 minutes,give or
take.
I came to a door abut 4 or 5 times my
height and knock on it.
BOOM BOOM BOOM.
No answer. I tried again.
BOOM BOOM BOOM.
No answer. I tried again.
BOOM BOOM...
The door creaked open slightly.
I pushed it open. Stared into
darkness. Then descended into that darkness. I didn't want to say
anything for fear someone would misunderstand my tone or words or
anything. It was completely dark and again, I was without vision.
I stood there for a moment, unknowing
of what to do next, and also wondering who opened the door. All of
the sudden, lights turned on in the entire castle accompanied by a
horrendous sounding... shreik... if that was even what it was. I
looked at my feet, I guess to make sure I could still see them, my
knees, and my stomach. I could. Something was strange. It was very
strange. Maybe because of what I had just endured was also so strange
that I did not realized it at the time, but it hit me. There was no
colour. The blood on my feet, legs, hands, and arms... it wasn't red.
I spotted a mirror on the wall to the left of the lobby that I was
standing in.
I saw my reflection.
My hair was not it's reddish brown colour.
My eyes were not blue.
My lips were not pink.
Everything was grey. Or a variation of black and white. I looked at the wall. There was a grand stairwell that went to the second floor, opening at each side. I looked to door that I had come in from. I looked around. White, grey, black, charcoal, raven... everywhere. Everything was colourless. I turned back to my reflection and stared at my face. My pale white skin. My charcoal hair.
I saw my reflection.
My hair was not it's reddish brown colour.
My eyes were not blue.
My lips were not pink.
Everything was grey. Or a variation of black and white. I looked at the wall. There was a grand stairwell that went to the second floor, opening at each side. I looked to door that I had come in from. I looked around. White, grey, black, charcoal, raven... everywhere. Everything was colourless. I turned back to my reflection and stared at my face. My pale white skin. My charcoal hair.
Then out of the corner of my grey
eyes, I saw something move. In the mirror, behind me. In the room,
I'm assuming what they called ''the drawing room'' or ''the sitting
room'' in Victorian times, there was movement. Just slightly. Not of
someone walking, but a quick movement.
I turned and walked toward the room
only semi-cautiously, curious as to what was disturbing the solitude
of this castle. When I entered the room, I saw a person, a female...
sitting on a couch that was facing away from me, towards a lit
fireplace. How had I not seen that light when I entered the castle?
How had I not smelled it? There was something odd about how this
woman was sitting. Her head was tilted to the right so much so that
her ear almost touched her shoulder. It looked uncomfortable. As I
approached, I heard a noise coming from near her. I was not sure if
it was her or not, but it was near her.
I walked around the couch to see her
face. And what I saw... was disturbing. It terrified me to where my
bones felt as if they were made of ice.
I looked at her face. This woman, she
was young. She had pale white skin. She had charcoal hair. She had
grey eyes that were opened as wide as they could go and were staring
straight ahead into the fireplace. This woman... she was me. She was
smiling an unnaturally big smile. Her lips were sewn together with
something.
Hair.
Charcoal hair.
Charcoal human hair.
Her hair.
My hair.
I was frozen. I had no idea what to do. Her positioning was disturbing. Her head was propped on her right shoulder. Her hands curled as if she was an old woman with arthritis. Her fingernails were long and punctured the palm of her bloody hands. I just stared at her. At me.
Just as I was about to leave the room, there was a loud crack, like lightning from a thunderstorm had struck the room, right beside me. The fire in the fireplace rose, then within less than 5 seconds, faded to just smoke, then nothing. I heard that scream again.The same agonizing scream from the forest. The woman who I could not find. It was coming from the chimney.
Hair.
Charcoal hair.
Charcoal human hair.
Her hair.
My hair.
I was frozen. I had no idea what to do. Her positioning was disturbing. Her head was propped on her right shoulder. Her hands curled as if she was an old woman with arthritis. Her fingernails were long and punctured the palm of her bloody hands. I just stared at her. At me.
Just as I was about to leave the room, there was a loud crack, like lightning from a thunderstorm had struck the room, right beside me. The fire in the fireplace rose, then within less than 5 seconds, faded to just smoke, then nothing. I heard that scream again.The same agonizing scream from the forest. The woman who I could not find. It was coming from the chimney.
As her scream grew louder, chimney
smoke filled the room. It blackened everything out. I couldn't see. I
looked around panicking, trying my best not to inhale the smoke. In
an instant, it was gone as if it had never been present. I looked
back down at the woman, at me. Her eyes were fixed on me. Wide open,
grey eyes. Then they shot to the corner of the room. I looked there,
too. I saw a small yellow light bobbing up and down. Then two yellow
lights. Eyes. They were eyes. Something was there. Something was
jumping up and down. I squinted to get a better look but it was too
dark. I took a step forward to see what it was. Just as my foot
touched the ground, a noise came from the corner of the room where
the yellow eyed thing was. I cannot explain the noise in words... it
was just an abnormal sound. An inhuman sound. It seemed as if this
thing was laughing at me. An inhuman, sinister laugh. I was about to
walk closer to it when the eyes disappeared and the woman, me, made a
sound. I whipped my head around to look at her... she was trying to
communicate with me. Our eyes met. Her head started to move... it was
shaking. She freed it from the position that it was in, on her right
shoulder. Her right ear and some skin from the right side of her face
was melted onto her shoulder. Her head was now straight, in a normal
position, her eyes still wide, she seemed like she was trying to
talk, but she couldn't due to her lips being sewn shut. Just then, a
blade cut the hair that was sewn around her lips. Her mouth opened
wide. Wider than it should have. A scream. THAT scream.... from the
forest.. it was coming from her, from me. Her teeth started to fall
from her mouth. A knife dropped from it, too. Her mouth opened so
wide. I just stood and stared in horror. Something was in her mouth.
A finger.
A white finger.
Then a hand.
Still with her eyes wide and staring at me, the bottom part of her jaw fell off and an arm, then a head, then the body of a girl came out of her mouth, my mouth.
She flopped on the floor like a fish out of water for a few seconds, then got enough strength to hold herself up by her arms, but her legs.. they were small, like she had polio. She looked at me, angrily, envious. She had those eyes. Those yellow eyes. And long black hair that hung in front of her face in some parts, matted to the side of her head in some parts. She was unnaturally skinny, her face was sunken in, I could see all of her bones, her ribs, her hip bones, she had enough breasts to know that she was a female, but they were shriveled. It seemed as if all of the liquid had been drained from her. I just stared. I couldn't move. She opened her mouth and the shreik.. that I heard when the lights came on, it escaped her. It was so loud that the house shook. She put one arm in front of the other and moved towards me. Her legs dragged behind her. There was blood but I wasn't sure where it was coming from. Her movement were stiff but quick. I backed away, I still felt like I couldn't move. She opened her mouth again. The same shreik. The house shook. I fell. She stared at me, still angrily, and lifted her nose like a dog as if she could smell my fear and confusion. She moved again towards me.
Right arm, left arm, right arm, left arm, her lower half turning as she moved. Stiffly.
A finger.
A white finger.
Then a hand.
Still with her eyes wide and staring at me, the bottom part of her jaw fell off and an arm, then a head, then the body of a girl came out of her mouth, my mouth.
She flopped on the floor like a fish out of water for a few seconds, then got enough strength to hold herself up by her arms, but her legs.. they were small, like she had polio. She looked at me, angrily, envious. She had those eyes. Those yellow eyes. And long black hair that hung in front of her face in some parts, matted to the side of her head in some parts. She was unnaturally skinny, her face was sunken in, I could see all of her bones, her ribs, her hip bones, she had enough breasts to know that she was a female, but they were shriveled. It seemed as if all of the liquid had been drained from her. I just stared. I couldn't move. She opened her mouth and the shreik.. that I heard when the lights came on, it escaped her. It was so loud that the house shook. She put one arm in front of the other and moved towards me. Her legs dragged behind her. There was blood but I wasn't sure where it was coming from. Her movement were stiff but quick. I backed away, I still felt like I couldn't move. She opened her mouth again. The same shreik. The house shook. I fell. She stared at me, still angrily, and lifted her nose like a dog as if she could smell my fear and confusion. She moved again towards me.
Right arm, left arm, right arm, left arm, her lower half turning as she moved. Stiffly.
I managed to stand up and run to the
door. It was so heavy. I couldn't open it. My eyes scanned the
lobby.. where could I go?
Right arm, left arm, right arm, left
arm...
I started running up the stairs. By
the time I got to the first landing that led me to the second floor,
I turned back and saw the girl-thing trying to climb the stairs.
Deep, gutteral noises of frustration were coming from her as she
tried her hardest to make it up the first step. She looked up at me
with more hate than anyone I have ever seen. Once more, she tried
hoisting herself onto the first step. I don't how this happened,
maybe it's because she tried too hard... but she...turned to dust. A
pile of her dust, ashes, powder, whatever... lay just before the
first step. I didn't dare go back down there and even though I should
have learned through horror movies that I'd seen... I turned to my
right and walked down the long dark hallway.
It was completely silent. Absolutely
no noise. I noticed after a few moments of wandering, that I could
not even hear my footsteps, my breath, the constant sniffling of my
nose. It was as if I had lost my own hearing. I looked at a big
grandfather clock on the wall. It was working, but I could not hear
the ticking. I looked out the window and saw the crows and bats and
ravens flying around, their beaks open as if they were crowing and
cawing and eeking... but no noise whatsoever.
Then it came. The shreik. The loud,
house shaking shreik. I ran into the next room that I could.
The door slammed shut with the last
shreik/house shake. I don't know if I was scared by the sudden shreik
or startled from finally being able to hear again. I stood in the
middle of the room. It was a bedroom. I saw a mirror and talked to
it. My hair was still charcoal. My skin was still pale white. My eyes
were still grey.
Shit. What's going on here? I looked
down at my feet, my knees, my stomach, my torn and tattered dress. As
I felt my dress, I realized that it wasn't mine. I don't wear white.
I woke up with it on, torn. I tried to run my fingers through my hair
but I couldn't. It was dirty and wet. Wet? It was still wet from
being in the misty forest. Shouldn't it have dried by now? At least a
little? It was still dripping wet. I grabbed it and squeezed it like
a towel, to dry it a little. It looked as if I could have filled an
entire soup bowl of water from my hair. I got out almost all of the
excess water from it.
I walked over to a music box on the dresser and opened it. It was a classical music box with a ballerina. She was facing towards the back of the box. On the back left side there was a knob to wind it up. I turned it once to see which song played. The ballerina's position was was with her arms raised above her head, her left leg straight standing on her toes, and her right leg bent with her right foot touching her left thigh. The song started to play. I recognized it.
I walked over to a music box on the dresser and opened it. It was a classical music box with a ballerina. She was facing towards the back of the box. On the back left side there was a knob to wind it up. I turned it once to see which song played. The ballerina's position was was with her arms raised above her head, her left leg straight standing on her toes, and her right leg bent with her right foot touching her left thigh. The song started to play. I recognized it.
Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven.
I love that song.
I was admiring the music and trying to
brush some of the dirt off my body when I glanced at the ballerina.
She was moving in circles, as music box dancers tend to do. When she
started turning toward me, that's when I noticed it.
That was the only colour I have seen since I've entered the castle.
Her hair was shoulder length, wavy,
and blonde.
Her face had tiny freckles on it.
Her eyes were bright blue.
She looked exactly like my mom.
She was my mom. And she was staring at
me with a horrified look on her face, as if she knew what had
happened to me, what was happening to me, and could foresee what was
going to happen to me. I watched her for few more seconds until she
danced around to me again, but this time she was looking past me, to
the other side of the room, to the bathroom. The music stopped, and
so did she. But she kept staring. Her eyes wide with fear. I looked
to the bathroom door. It was open. I didn't take notice if it was
open or not when I ran into the bedroom. I heard water dripping
lightly, so I went to turn it off. I entered the bathroom and was
amazed not only at how elaborate it was, but also how clean it was.
It was almost like someone had focused their cleaning only on that
part of the house. There was a claw foot bathtub with a paisley
design on it on the far left side of the room and a sink with a
mirror that was broken perfectly in half, horizontally. The toilet
was sitting against the same wall that the bathroom door was on,
between the sink and the bathtub.
I went to the sink, washed my face,
and drank some water from my hand. I looked at myself in the mirror
and noticed thatmy hair was dripping wet again. I thought it as
weird, but I didn't py much attention to it. I went over to the
toilet, which had privacy walls on either side of it and sat down,
leaning against the left most wall. I sat and thought about how I had
gotten to the field. What that thing was in the sitting room. Why I
saw myself. At this point, I was exhausted and needed to
just....close....my eyes.... a little....
I don't know what time it was when I
finally reopened my eyes, but I felt much better. I don't know what
time it was when I closed them, nor did I know much of anything at
that moment. I started thinking about Moonlight Sonata. About the
ballerina. About my mom. Then all of the sudden, I realized that the
music box was playing, not just in my mind, and I remember the
ballerina's face and then remember why I was in the bathroom. I was
still leaning against the left most privacy wall and sat in silence
for a moment until I heard a noise. It sounded like gagging. I leaned
a little to my left and looked at the mirror. On the top part of the
broken mirror I saw the reflection of something black.
It was hair.
Something... someone.. was on the
ceiling. I looked back quickly in fear and saw a girl hanging from
the ceiling. I don't know what she was hanging from, but her neck was
bent forward and her limbs were just dangling there. I stood up and
looked her long enough to hear her say, ''black and white, never
wrong, never right.''
I ran back into the bedroom and
screamed when I saw the bed. It was a canopy-less bed with four
canopy posts. There were probably ten ropes tied to each post and
held together in the middle by a girl. She had charcoal hair, like
mine.
But she was without a face.
...To Be Continued...
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