Blog 3: Sad story time

It was early in the morning, and I had just finished my breakfast. After a long, warm shower I was totally ready to begin my relaxing day off from my responsibilities, where I would just negate my adult chores and pretend I was a teenager again. I fired up my PC and opened YouTube. I had no idea what I would look for, but surely I'd find something in the recommendations that might catch my interest. There had to be something, but no. Nothing. 

I opened up my "games" folder and stared at it blankly. It was impossible that after a whole week of craving my day off, I finally had the chance to have time for myself and a few hours of entertainment, but I just stared blankly at the screen. Alone.

Alone.

I started to think. "Remember that Jimmy invited me to his party?" I said I didn't want to go. I could have gone if I wanted to. My car was already back from the mechanic, my bills were covered, I had a full gas tank. Then why do I feel... regret? Nah, it's not. Why would I feel regret? Even if I had gone it would just as boring as staying home. Or even more for that matter. Going out usually involves partaking in alcohol-driven actions that usually had something to do with the invasion of someone's personal space. Either that, in a good occasion, or just talking with one more of the endless, mindless bots that are the people I often meet. I mean, some are not so bad... not bad at all. Some of them I consider great friends. Others even brothers and in the case of the opposite sex, some I consider lovers. But still, it's so... dull.

So there I was. Staring at a white screen of icons. Thinking about life. What a way to spend my vacations. 

I stood up and went to the kitchen. The smell in the air was... different. Not like "vanilla leaf" different, but the feeling I got from it. I don't know, it was weird. It reminded me of my childhood, when my mom would make bags and bags of Christmas cookies for her friends, my brother and me to enjoy. Everything was good then. Everyone was happy, or at least that's what I thought at the time. We would eat cookies all December while we counted down the days left for Christmas. Christmas was the happiest time of the year, especially that one time where my dad actually agreed on coming over and spending the night together as a family. I couldn't believe my two parents were under the same roof. Other kids had told me many stories of how they did stuff like eating supper with both of their parents, and I just found that amusing. I had never experienced something like that. Everything was... blissful.  Eventually, especially when you grow up, moments like those just run out, I guess.

I glimpsed at the clock. Its constant ticking which first induced me into some kind of a state of trance was now the reason I snapped out of it. 40 minutes had passed since I stepped away from the computer. 40 minutes, just alone, thinking about my life and the memories that that weird smell brought back.

Alone. 

On my kitchen table lied a small plate with a single cookie. Guess that that's where the smell comes from. It was so strong... and very inciting. It reminded me of my mother. A lot. That might be the reason why I refused to eat it. 

"Bet you don't even taste as good as you smell. You're a liar. Maybe that's why you remind me so much of her." I whispered.

Was that where I had fallen into? Had I become so pathetic that now I talk with cookies? Shaking that weird occurrence out of my head, I snapped my phone out of my pocket and opened up Snapchat as my last resource of entertainment. There was nothing new so I swiped over to see if there were any interesting stories from IGN or something. As I scrolled down, I saw Jimmy's username there, and for some odd reason, I couldn't help the urge to tap and see how the party had gone.

I was greeted with loud music, videos of people taking shots, people dancing, people talking, people... interacting. I could have gone... I could have been there.

again I shook that though out of my head. Again, If I had gone, I would have to go through all the faking and pretending just to interact with those people. Sometimes it was fun, I guess, but I just felt that I just didn't fully belong, even though I'm great at pretending I do. I could be just like them, but that's to much to ask from me. 

I glanced at the clock again. 90 minutes had passed. I was tired of waiting for something to happen. I was tired of feeling sad for no apparent reason. I was tired of barely existing. I was tired of bearing my mother's choices, and I was most definitely tired of drawing people away from me. So, I stood up, grabbed the damn cookie and ate it. I got dressed up and decided to take a walk. Maybe some fresh air will give me some way to finish my story, but for the time being, I can't. 

Blog #2: A Significant Event in My Life

Around a year ago, Valente struggled with appointments and gatherings because he depended on wether there was anyone who could drive him to wherever he needed to go. Wether it'd be to his extracurricular classes or to a mere friend gathering, he often missed them or arrived late because there was no one around who had nothing better to do than drive him to his destination.

This, however, changed when his 16th birthday arrived. Valente had finally gotten what he wanted and needed the most. The true test of his maturity and responsibility: his very own driver's license. After this, Valente's world completely changed. Now he was able to make his own schedules. He could go to wherever he wanted to go. But not everything was good though. Although he had a little bit of experience behind the wheels, Valente had not driven farther than a few blocks away from his house. Real traffic was something completely new to him. As he fastened his seatbelt, he could feel his heart pounding against his chest. Adrenaline was being pumped through his veins almost as fast as the cars that would soon be going past him. After some hesitation, the roar of the engine filled Valente's ears as he pressed down on the pedal and felt the forward motion of the car. He had seen those streets a million times before, but never quite like this. Everything was the same, but somehow different. His parents always said that as much as you try to pay attention as a co-pilot, things will never be the same when it's you behind the wheel.

After a few months, Valente felt like he had controlled that rush of adrenaline every time he turned on the engine. He was now confident to go outside of the places he knew. Now, Valente is able to drive others as well, and repay those who gave him rides before. He was a little bit more independent, and he loved it. That is until the car runs out of gas, or until a backlight stops working, or when he has to go do some favor for his dad, of course. But mostly, it was totally worth it. 

A Regular Day of My Life

A day in my life:

Usual days in my life (during the week of course) are always pretty much the same. I have many times before expressed how repetitive they are, but I guess I'll have to say it one more time.

A typical day in my life would start when I wake up to go to school. I reach out towards the piercing sound of my phone's alarm, desperately tapping the darkness of my surrounding to silence it. After I find enough inner force to open my eyes, I see the light of my screen; it glows like a white sun that I must resist with my eyes half open. After this horrible struggle, I finally swipe the screen and the room goes silent. I then have to make a decision: do I snooze my alarm and get some more few minutes of sleep? Or do I wake up now and get ready to go to school? Depending on the hour, I make a decision. Eventually the latter is the one I must take, and then I proceed to stand up, walk to the bathroom and salute my face with a splash of water to help me get out of my drooping state. I get my uniform and then go outside to have breakfast.

After a few minutes my "viaje" arrives. Depending on the day they can arrive at around 7:15 AM or 6:55 AM. As you might imagine, I'm not very good at working against the clock, so I wrap my breakfast in aluminum foil, which is usually an egg-with-ham-and-cheese sandwich and off I go. I get to school and my day continues normally.

After school, again, depending on the day of the week I might arrive relatively early (around 3:05 PM) or a bit late, which is usually when I am the one who has to leave the others in their houses. When this happens I get home at around 3:30 PM. I out on more comfortable clothes, wash my hands and have lunch with the rest of the inhabitants of my house. After this comes the most interesting part of the day, because it is both the easiest and the hardest thing that I need to do in the day: Do I procrastinate and do my homework when I get back from practice? Or do I do it now? Depending on the amount of homework I might go one way or the other. At 6:30 PM I leave to get to my afternoon activities, from which I get back at 8:00 PM and sometimes 9:00 PM.

After being back from my classes, I give myself a nice, refreshing and relaxing bath to wash away both the sweat and the soreness of my practice. I then eat my dinner, which I usually ask for before I return to my house from my practices. While I eat dinner I sometimes do homework, and after this I wash my teeth, maybe browse the internet a bit, and then I go to sleep, only to begin the same cycle the next day.