8 Things

1.) I'm extremely paranoid and think about things that can never happen.

2.) I admit it, I'm obsessive. If I dont have things done I try to make it happen until it actually does.

3.) I dont have a hobby or any visible talent. I suck at art, I burn everything I cook, I dont play an instrument or sing, I read extremely slowly, I dont do any sports,and cant even work a computer right and end up breaking it.

4.) I like wearing baggy shirts that I find in the plus-sized women section at Wal-Mart and not do anything all day and look like a pig in a over-sized shirt an jogging shorts.

5.) I always plan things in my head and really commit to it but when the right moment to do it comes, I chicken out so fast I actually run away from whatever it is.

6.) I cant talk back to my sister because knowing her, she will kill me and then I end up sitting there with my eyes wide open.

7.) I hate it when little kids stare at you for the longest time ever and you have to pretend you dont notice them.

8.) When I'm really frustrated I go very quiet (yes, even quieter than usual) and then whenI cant take it anymore I explode, first I'm happy then I'm angry and then I get very very emotional.

Change

The light streamed in from the windows as I play with the blocks with Andrew, my friend. You may think its ordinary but then you'll know something is amiss when you notice that every other girl in the room has a barbie doll or Polly Pocket or whatever, but for me, it was just me, Andrew and... the power ranger turtles scattered around us. Yep, I was always the tom boy recluse in the grade. I have a feeling i has something to do with the fact that my dad so desperately wanted a boy and decided to raise me like one.

Instead of a Dora the Explorer backpack I had this weird black one, that had a black pencil case, a black P.E bag and in the middle of the blackness I'll have this bright yellow jacket that I refused to take off. Yep, I was a pretty weird little girl.

One day five girls came up to me, all blonde with a barbie doll in one hand, a Care Bear in the other and a pink barbie backpack. These were the types of girls I abhored from (not now, that was then), I had my usual yellow jacket, an orange T-shirt, and jeans and the usual black objects. I cant tell you details since I dont remmber that well but I just know that after some name calling I had chunks of blonde hair in my hands and was sent to a time-out. Of course I love blondes and am not a tomboy anymore but after that, I was despondent and too afraid to wear yellow, black or touch an action figure.

People Who Laugh....

I am impeled to ask, why do boys, and maybe girls, like violent or scary movies? For one thing they haunt my mind for ages when I see it on TV. I mean yeah I must admit I find myself snickering when the guy with the gun is threatening to blow one's head off into a billion pieces. But the point is, I'd like to imagine someone who thinks thoe movies are hilarious, to be in the character's position, and I'm sure, a one-hour movie will be interminable if it is SAW 3 or another gruesome movie.

I'm sure that those movies are very interesting but really, is it that funny? I turn on the TV, and its an ordinary movie, but something is amiss after the man becomes a recluse and start collecting machetes or something. I used to think scary movies were the most interesting things on this planet (and sometimes still do) until I imagined myself in the position. I don't know about other people, but I entreat you to not start laughing your heads off when someone is whimpering right next to you.

I'm sure people who like horror movies and is reading this, may think I am on a tirade but really, dont you get annoyed wen your at the movies, and this one guy starts laughing like crazy when the gun shot almost reverberates around the room? And then I come out of the movies all tremulous and almost despondent.

Trust me, I'm not this irascible but doesn't anyone else agree?

Confession For Charlie

I've probably told a few of you before but my cat bites me like CRAZY. My face, my arms, my legs and my neck and everywhere! I woke up this morning and grabbed Charlie as he aimed at my face once again (for people who don't know Charlie, he is my adorable, orange, and fluffy male kitten!) I carried him to the kitchen after I washed up. My mom was starting to complain about how I promised to feed him everyday an that she always has to scrape out the cat food and feed him. I must admit, I haven't been taking care of Charlie recently. I'm never around to comfort him after a cold bath, or massage his paws after his nails were cut, or even blow into his ears after his ears were cleaned. I'm only here to fill in his dinner and although I'm at home, I dont bother to clean out his litter box.

I apologize to my mom and say I'll do it tomorrow...like always. After I get changed I walk to the bathroom to fix my hair, not noticing Charlie sitting in the hall looking up at me with real huge eyes. I've recently noticed and as soon as I got home, I hug my cat for quite a while, I mean I dont know whether I'll try to be here for him but al I'm saying is that he'll always has his hugs no matter what.

Picture Day

It was picture day. The weather man said that it would be snowing all day (yep, another day of frizzy goodness...not). I splash on some more anti-frizz spray and iron my hair flat. I was already late and the air smelled like hair spray and singed-hair. I couldn't realy see what time it was because I was too busy taming my hair, but my mom hd already left for work so it was pretty late.

This year I had to look OK. Last year my hair looked like it was dragged across the desert, dumped into water and then electrocuted... basicallyit wasn't pretty. My friends all straigtened their hair for picture day. Oh, yeah, I'm really proud of being curly/wavy/frizzy/i don't even know what-haired.

I was imagining my grandparent's face when they saw my finally pretty photo. And how my sister can't tease me anymore. Something really smelled like burning plastic. My face was hot. I kept ironing my hair, pressing the iron harder and harder. Blasting the music higher (I was already late anyways). Something was definitely burning now. I was finally done with my hair. I wipe the mist off the mirror and almost fainted. Black. Shriveled. Singed. It looked like I haven't washed my hair in days, it looked like... positively, definitely worse thna last year.

Lost Voices

I sit at the dinner table.

My food untouched.

A spotlight on me.

You were yelling for almost 10 minutes now.

Going on and on

about anorexia.

You yell. I try t walk away.

You keep yelling,

grabbing my arm.

I stare at you.

A billion retorts ringing

in my head.

My mother,

who complains about my father,

who complains about me.

One day you say;

"You and me are a lot alike"

now your telling me we're not.

Now we're bonding.

The day you hold a pretty necklace,

and ask me what I think,

I say its nice

without even looking up.

Tears sting my eyes,

while you yell.

But my ears are muffled. My head stuffed with cotton.

I need to speak what's on my mind.

Am I allowed to?

Fear holds me back.

I feel my arm aching.

I pull it away from her hands that were once soft,

but now feels

like knives.

I run into my room,

lock the door.

And I cant wait

for the day

I'll be brave enough

to speak the retorts in my head, that lost their vices.

Friendly Letter

Mari Onozato
123 Amazing Street

Panama City, Panama

September 8th 2010

Dear Minnie,

I know that I've written you a letter before but you were the first friend who popped in my mind when we were supposed to write a friendly letter. It is imperative that i write to you again because we haven't been talking much. I know you are well because I talked to our other friend yesterday on BBM. I remember when we both spent the Summer on the mountain and you tripped me down the hill. But anyway we modified the excruciating pain by rubbing weird leaves on my arm. But ANYWAY (again) we never talk that much anymore its always...

Me: Hey! How are you?
You: Hi. I'm good, you?
Me: Good

*End of Conversation*

I've never been the type to keep in touch. You instilled me into writing letters back and forth and I can't stand that we don't write anymore.

We were never the same were we? You'd always put glitter on your nails, I'd put purple on mine. You always had your hair high up in a pony tail and mine would curtain my face. But I would have been missing you completely if you didn't trip me all the time or if you didn't pull my hair every time I annoyed you. Which recurred many times :P. I hope your doing great! With your new boyfriend and everything, the thing I miss the most is every one's sunny disposition. Our conjecture that we'd grow apart but we're still in touch longer than I thought. The first few weeks I left we spontaneously text and wrote letters

Look Again

I must confess that I hate people who only judge people from looks. Like they say "In every obese man, there is a skinny man inside" I think that that sentence is the smartest thing I've ever heard. I mean, sure looks are definitely a good thing. But like I always tell every friend who choose looks over personality, I tell them what if a mass murderer was the most "nicest" and cutest man you've ever seen? Would you still be crazy about him? If you do then there's probably something wrong with you. But I guess it's not really my choice. I've seen my sister get hurt because some jerk she was dating thought that her hair "wasn't curly" and how she's "not tall enough".

I suppose I usually liked the guys who were...yeah and then I found out they were complete idiots. And I think that I should honestly tell everyone that some people aren't always what they look like and if you do, then I tell my sister "if this world came to an end, and you and your wonderful boyfriend were the only people on earth, would you still be happy? Or would you just not are anymore because there's no one else to impress?" obviously after that she kicked me out of her room but I heard her crying when the door slammed shut. So look again.

Now I Know

What happens when someone you love is gone? I guess I wouldn't be angry. Its not like he purposely went away. I used to talk to my grandfather everyday. My dad was pretty stressed that week. He was always with grandpa, I begged to come all the time, so I can tell my grandfather my worries. But my dad says no. It happened when I was still really small. I was frustrated at my dad because he went to grandpa's house everyday, and I only got to speak to him once a week on the phone. I stopped taking grandpa's phone calls, just so he'd miss me at least a bit.

I finally take his call. He says he's going away. "With daddy?" I ask (Just so you know, I was still pretty small) He says he's going by himself. I wonder about insisting for more information. But i stop myself. "I'll see you next week, right grandpa?" He says maybe.

The idea of what he would say keeps popping up i my head. i knew that if I did find out, this nagging feeling will go away. I knew this strange idea would be gone...I ask one day to my dad "Why hasn't grandpa called? Why cant i visit him? Where is he? Whats wrong?" But my dad walks out the door tells me to go in the car and we finally drive to grandpa's house. I regret it, I should have insisted for more information, I didn't want to go in, i wanted to turn. But i walk into his room, and see my grandpa's face, barley visible, so pale like the papers in a book. There were plastic tubes everywhere. The curtains drawn. The bed sheets pulled up so high his mouth is almost covered. Then I break down. Knowing cant call him again. Knowing he wont make me hot chocolate and comfort me when my parents are having a fight.

We go home. Finally. "Now you know" my father says. I remember all the time lost where I was ignoring grandpa, or where I was too busy to go to his house. I cry into my pillow. And scream for god knows how long. The next day was the funeral.

Being "Obsessive"

OK, I know this is kind of like my confession from last year but today I've heard it nine times...NINE times. I woke up and was flossing (I usually floss twice every time I brush my teeth) and suddenly my sister, Sara barges in and almost knocking me out with the door. This usually happens so I learned to ignore it. I sigh and carry on brushing. I was brushing my hair when my sister pushed me.

"What?" I say annoyed. My hair was everywhere now and the brush was cracked into two pieces because I accidentally hit in on the wall...this was the third time now. She told me to move so I start complaining that my hair was going to be frizzy and how my hair will turn out ugly.

"God! Stop being so obsessive and get the (bad word) out!" she screams. I almost hit her for that, but again, I've learnt to control myself or I end up getting hurt....

The second time was from my own dad. So I was in my mom's bathroom since I was kicked out from the other one, and I was bushing my hair when my dad's waiting impatiently at the doorway.

"Wait! I'm almost done!" I say in a rush, and about five minutes later he looked like he was going to burst.

"Mari! Your hair looks fine! I saw you brushing it ten minutes ago! So stop being obsessive and get ready for school!" he was practically yelling so I had to get out.

The third time was from my neighbour. I was getting on the elevator and she was holding the door for me because I forgot my markers for my hand. I had to go back three more times and the elevator and the lady looked aggravated.

"Don't obsess about your hand and hurry up!" she was shouting so this made the elevator ride really awkward.

The next two times was because of my hand again. My mom and the little girl that sits next to me on the bus. I didn't even know that little girl! She only got upset because I got red ink on her khaki pants! My mom started yelling at me about skin cancer and stuff, now that was taking it to a whole new limit.

After my mom and I shouting I stopped writing on my hand as much as always. (Now that my mom said it, I'm not going to stop in what I think is okay.)

The next three times was about work. Once from my friend, another from my own grandfather, and once from my friend on BBM.

So as you can see, people think I'm obsessive, but I'm really not, honestly!