Touch

I am actually a day late on this. I didn't babysit last night and instead took my sisters out to the pumpkin patch!

Touch, the physical connection.

Since a young age, we need humans, we need to trust/distrust, we need the love, we need reassurance, we need a hug, we need warmth, we need a reaction to our actions, we need touch.

Yet in our teenage and young adult years, we are looked down because we have a need for humans. How silly of our society--to put it nicely. We get told to ignore when we are ignored, to not look for people's names to appear on our phones, to enjoy the lonely nights with no one around us, and to not expect praise for all we do. And I wonder, if this is all we've ever known, if it is embedded into our humanity, why do we fight so hard against it?

My thoughts are a little all over the place on this one, and I'm not sure I'm articulating what I want to say. But my point is that we should touch, we need reactions, interactions, and we should not feel guilty about these things.

I'll share where this hit me. Last Saturday I visited my boyfriend, we only spent about three hours together, but I'm sure in this time I could count how many hugs/caresses/kisses I received. I admit it's not something I am used to and it's why it hit me. We are a couple who is very "lovey dovey" and a great deal of that comes from being apart at least 6 days a week, we have that need to feel that we're actually there, to feel the warmth and affection. I brought it up to him, and we discussed it and why it was so, and so it hasn't reoccured. But driving home that day I felt very unwanted, and it was an issue I've never had so we are clear to not repeat this.

So I want to say- touch.

We humans need it, and if you read this I just want to say that it is normal to have a need to be needed and to be wanted, of course there are realistic expectations that we must adhere to. But, if you don't feel wanted or needed and dwell in that lonely space [note: there is a difference between the lonely space and alone space] then I do encourage you to go out and look for friends who will make it clear that you are wanted, valued, appreciated, needed and that you make a difference.

touch

təCH/

verb

1. 1. 

   come so close to (an object) as to be or come into contact with it.
2. 2. 

   handle in order to manipulate, alter, or otherwise affect, especially in an adverse way.

noun

1. 1. 

   an act of touching someone or something.
2. 2. 

   a small amount; a trace.

Giver

I was born to be a giver.

Saturday morning, I get up and I get ready to go visit my boyfriend, I decide to skip breakfast at home and grab a muffin and coffee from Starbucks. As I drive out, at the exit of the shopping center, there is a homeless man, I am immediately thankful that there's a red light and I pull out a $5 bill and hand it to him. He thanked me very much, and said "Ma'am, I know it's that time of day to eat, that's all I'm trying to do here" and he turned and headed to the McDonalds." 

And you wouldn't believe how happy I felt, I don't tell this story to get a pat on the back, but I do share it with a little shame of my selfishness.

I've made it a goal of mine that when I give to those who are on the streets, to make it matter. Because will a dollar or two make a difference? No. But even just $5 can mean a meal to them, something that matters and that everyone is worth of. I get told, "what if they use it for something else?" And so I'll tell you--is that my business? No. Because I'm not here to judge them, or how they got to the situation that they are in.

So Saturday, I felt complete, because I felt like I might have actually made a difference- and I'm not talking about ground-shattering, I changed his life. I mean even if for just a day, I made a difference, I gave and it mattered.

And so I continued my drive across the mountains to my boyfriend. 

In the mountains, I thought of giver. 

I am a giver, and I wish I could explain how I know that this is what I am meant to do in my life, but I simply can't. When it comes to my home life, I'm a giver: I've been there to take on the role that my parents have needed me to, I love to spoil my sisters when I can, and so much more. When it comes to work, I give my all- whether it's being above and beyond production and performance at Albertson's or moving everything so I can help with babysitting as best I can. And it's part of the reason why I struggle with my college education-because it's for myself. I want to be an English teacher, so I can help those who struggle with writing, to help those who panic at an english class. In my church activities, I like being part of the framework- helping with hospitality and organizing rather than standing in front of everyone teaching, because it's the smaller details that help the teacher flow in her plan. When I look to my future, I want to be the one who supports my husband, who spoils him perhaps, the one who gives it all for my kids and is always there. I like to make others feel like they are a priority.

I am a giver.

giv·er

ˈɡivər/

noun

1. a person who gives something.

   [or everything]

Mothers.

Surprisingly, I need to find more things to write about because I am drawing a blank on Tuesdays.

Today, this one is for my mother.

Saturday was her birthday, 54 years. I was extremely happy that I got to see her all day, sound all day with her, and do what she wanted since Friday night. Though, on Saturday she kept saying she wanted to call her mom because she knew that my grandma didn't remember her birthday anymore, but when she did--my grandma called every year. It made me a little sad to be honest, because I don't know if one day she might not remember my birthday anymore, but it was a reminder to truly appreciate her while I have her.

Me and my mom never got along when I was younger, it wasn't until I was probably out of high school that things got better. I am glad to say that even though we didn't necessarily get along, we have respected each other.

So I wonder how you're supposed to tell this beautiful woman, how much beauty you see in her. How I don't comprehend how she can do so much for us. How she plays it off, but we all know she was a genius in school, and now you fear that you won't ever get to her level. There's so much I wish i could tell her but I can't find the words or the thoughts to tell her.

A mother is someone who shapes you, for better or for worse. As we grow up we start to see their flaws first hand, but at the same time you love them more because of it. Even though there are things she did that I can't get past, I know in my heart that she did it all with the best intentions.

I don't want to take my mother for granted, because I don't want to regret it 50 years from now, when I can't wish her a happy birthday anymore or dedicate a day to her joy.

Stress

Surprisingly, I very much look forward to writing a post on Tuesday nights. Tuesday nights I babysit so I always hope that they go down nice and easy so I can breathe for a while.
Well this last week has been extremely stressful. I've managed to survive, and seeing as how I love the individual reasons as to why I'm so busy and stressed, I really want to try to stop complaining so much. To give you an idea of how my week has been so far I will try to write out my schedule from Wednesday-Today.
Wednesday: Woke up, got ready, drove an hour to meet my BF, hung out, had to drive another hour to see my cousin who was helping me buy my new laptop (hello, baby!), drove back another 45 minutes to where I originally met my boyfriend, by this time I was exhausted and ended up crashing at my best friends apartment, but stayed up till 230 AM since she was skyping with a boy.
Thursday: woke up, best friend wanted breakfast, we went, figured I'd be better off missing class, drove home for an hour, got ready, went to work from 1-6, then straight to church for a meeting, then drove home, changed and went to the youth group meeting and didn't get home until 10:30ish?
Friday: woke up lateish, grabbed coffee and went to meet with the teacher for Little Church to discuss how I was going to run class on Sunday, drove by work and grabbed my check, picked up my sister, got ready, went to Disneyland (necessary? No, but I felt like it was much needed time for me and her) and got home around 10?
Saturday: Worked 9-5, went grocery shopping for dinner, got home and dropped off my sister at her Senior homecoming dance, went home had dinner, stayed up waiting, picked up my sister, stayed up late talking to my boyfriend (we had exchanged a total of like 5 texts)
Sunday: Woke up, breakfast with my family, got ready, went to Little Church, I was a wreck, completely nervous, messing up, went straight to work from 3-1030 and didn't get home till 11ish, stayed up again with my boyfriend but I fell asleep on him
Monday: wake up, try to calm down and just relax, go to work from 3-830, drive by and drop off some papers my best friend needed me to get to her parents, get home around 9 and shower and all, go to sleep around 11
Today: Woke up, get my things ready, my lovely mother made me a veggie/fruit shake for breakfast that I drank on my way to school, school from 11-1215 where I realized I'm slacking much more than I should be, drive to work change and eat a muffin, work from 1-6, and then have dinner and babysit from 6:45-now

So I've had a lot on my plate. And in the moment of doing each of these things-- I love doing them. But I'm also not mentioning that I'm not doing homework, and work is physically exhausting. So I've been searching for a more leisure job, like I would love to just be someone's assistant or something of the sort. I mean it's one of those tireds that you just feel. I am greatly enjoying being so involved with church, frankly I feel like it's my calling. But when I put it all on the table, ouch.
So I guess today I couldn't really think of anything in specific, but I wanted to fill you in on a bit of what my life has been day-to-day.

I know this was probably a pretty boring post, but it's there!

xoxo

All Dogs Go to Heaven

Last Thursday, September 25th 2015, my family lost our beloved Dolly.

I've never experienced a loss of a loved one, I was blessed with such a thing. But it is only now that the days have passed that I realized how much my little viejita (old lady) meant to me.

We got Dolly when she was 8 weeks old and we lost her 13 years later. Now, my entire family knew that her time was coming, she couldn't hear well, she couldn't really smell well either and her eyes were looking hollow. Sometimes we'd come back from an outing and she wouldn't notice that we were back until she saw us standing there. But man, no one was ready to let her go. Because I've said the story one too many times- we lost her to a coyote, by no means was the coyote wrong- after all she was in their territory but it's the cruel nature of it that made it that much worse.

Thursday night I cried for her, for the thought of her being gone. But Friday morning I went out to see if I could find any remains, and all that was left of her were the hair balls scattered a couple of houses down. And then it hit me. Dolly is gone forever.

My viejita is still with me. I can remember the first night she spent with us- she was crying at my bed and I woke up my mom to ask if she could sleep on my bed for just one night, in her last months she could no longer jump onto my bed and feared getting down. I can tell you how she passed away with quite little emotion on my face, I've made myself immune to the imagination of her last moments here on this Earth. But man can I tell you, you never realize how much you love something until it's gone. 

Thursday night I came home and she wagged her tail at me, I scolded her and told her "if you think I'm gonna go over and rub your belly after my long day, you're crazy!" And those were my last words to her. Now I only wish that I could rub her belly, or take her out on the walk that I always thought would be too tough for her.

Dolly, here's to the memories and childhood you left me. To the times you ran out when me and dad were running late to school, to the albums and bibles you chewed up, to the many road trips you spent with us in the backseat, to the holidays were we had to have a picture with you and the family, to meeting our new baby sister, to the times you comforted us with your presence when we were home alone, Dolly you take with you a huge part of my childhood, but you will never ever be replaced mi viejita. I'll be wishing you could annoy me just once more, that I could come home to look for you, or to hear your breath at my door, of one thing I'm sure Dolly:

All Dogs Go to Heaven

Inglés

English major.

Why?

I can't exactly put into words but I'll try.

English is my second language, I am fluent in Spanish primarily and then English, but why did I choose to change to an English major? 

I have a few points.

First off, I wanted to show that it is possible for a non-native speaker to master this language.

Second, I've always loved creative writing--even though I have lost my practice with it.

Third, I want to help people--especially teenagers and adults-- lose their fear of this language. I know one too many people that absolutely hate anything to do with the English subject. Especially with those whom had a different first language. But I want to help people use their words on paper to transmit the intelligence, ideas, and emotion that lie within. I feel I have a gift of helping people improve their writing and I want to do just that. 

Fourth, in high school I thought about this career path but chose to stick to my other calling (child development) because I didn't feel like radon old English for years. Now, I know that English has become more than just Anglo-Saxon literature, English has expanded it's wings. Along with that, I don't have to have a plan for a huge novel or be a poet to pursue English.

I guess this is a shorter post than the prior, but it means a lot to me to have changed my major, and this is a short glimpse as to why. 

The Beginning

So, this is the first I guess official post. I've never posted before but I decided to start up something new. I figured I wanted to start taking note of exciting events and have decided to take Tuesdays to do so, as of now it should work out quite well- and I want to cover Wednesday- Tuesday.

But first! 

I am currently a 21 year old college student, and I believe I just may be in love with the man of my life, I have 2 little sisters, and I'm currently an English major. So like I've said before- I'm not sure what the point of this blog is  but I'm hoping it'll include some of my happy adventures, small moments, and some insight as to who I am or why I am.

I have to begin the blog with some sort of post right? This is me and my boyfriend at Disneyland this past Friday, for Dapper Day. I'll begin by saying that this man has truly challenged, and changed the way I thought about love and a significant other- but in the strengthening positive way. So let me tell you about us.

We "met" each other online, of course that's still a bit taboo so only a few people know the true story. I went on this website because let's face it- I wasn't meeting anybody, not that I had bad luck, but considering I was unemployed at the time and I've never clicked with people at school I never even got far enough to be "talking to someone." So I joined just to mess around and talk to people and maybe go on dates. As any woman would know, men just flood in. One of the first things that stood out to me about this handsome man was the first line he spoke to me. Well, maybe second. I'm sure he said Hi Maria, or something along those lines-- and then I must've responded with something simple, and then he asked me where I was from. And right off I thought, hmm how strange- he didn't tell me to talk about myself, or my age/school, any of those typical online first questions.

We talked for a couple of weeks online, and we talked about so much that I only wish I could remember half of the things we did talk about. I do remember we talked about our favorite artists and surprisingly he knew of David Cook and that took me by surprise. He also told me about this painting that he loves, that I haven't forgotten about.

Then I grew tired of waiting to go online to check if he had responded, so I suggested texting and he agreed, thank me for the suggestion since he didn't want to ask about it for the fear that he would be creepy. 

Somehow, we agreed to meet the Wednesday before my birthday (which would mean, October 30th or so). I was a bit nervous but not freaking out completely, and then he told me his tire had blown out. I FREAKED! Why? Well because I had never really met him, so for all I knew this could be some sort of catfish thing. He apologized and offered to take me out on my  birthday- which I had to turn down because I usually end up doing something with my family.

So our first date was the day after my 21st birthday, November 7th 2013. I got ready and only two people knew where I was going- my sister and friend, Dulce. So I specified to tell me when he was here so he wouldn't awkwardly bump into my dad. 

The second I walked outside I had this HUGE smile on my face-- I mean I could feel my jaw hurting already. As soon as we were face to face, he bowed and greeted me with "My Princess," since that is what he called me over the phone. And then we went in for a hug. We started driving and neither one knew what to do, I hadn't eaten all day but I sure wasn't hungry. So he offered to take me to Build-A-Bear since it was something I had mentioned I wanted for my birthday. So that was our first date, building a bear whose name became Jordan, and Julio chose the name, he sleeps with me every night and goes with me whenever I know I won't be home that night. After that, our nerves had calmed down enough to go eat something. We went to BJ's where I ordered my first legal alcohol beverage! As we walked out, he finally held my hand. *He later explained to me why he waited so long, and he still remembers the spot where he went for it*

So then what comes next? The movie.

Except for sitting in his car, looking up the movie showings for Thor, I realized I didn't want to go sit in a dark crowded room for my remaining hours with him. I wanted to be with him. So I told him I didn't want a movie and to go up to some spot to just hang out.

We went up behind my house to a hike my dad always mentioned but I had never been on. It was quite a hike I won't lie, I was using my phone's flashlight to be guided and when we got to the top it was beautiful! It was a small town's city lights and truly breathtaking with that November chill. We talked about so much, our parents, our siblings, spankings and such. I kept re-positioning myself hoping he'd kiss me, but the man wouldn't! *Later, I found out he didn't want to kiss me because he didn't want me to think he was moving too fast, since he thought me to be very traditional* Finally, he kissed me, and I remember the conversation that led up to it was along the lines of me telling him "You don't have to be perfect to be exactly what someone needs." 

So then I'm sure we kissed for a bit and then finally came down, and he dropped me off at my house- by this time it was probably near midnight and he still had to drive back home for an hour, on a windy road.

I waited up for him to get home where we still texted for a bit- talking about our night and how we were feeling. The next time we see each other, he officially asks me to be his girlfriend-- a cute story I shall save for another post. 

But there you have it little humans, the story of my first date with the man and love of my life :)

And just for some comparison- here's our first picture together taken November 20th, the day I met all of his family and we went to my sister's band competition with my family, 10 months after it's crazy to see how far we've come.