A Girl’s Life

Well, Michael and I have been discussing that we need to share some personal moments on the website.  Since I loss the coin toss here is my first go at it.  Its a vivid memory from my teenage years…


It just so happen I was on winter break from school. My mother and I had a date for the day. Every once in a while we would spend the day together just the two of us. Usually we would go shopping, to the salon and have our hair done, lunch, and just enjoy time together. That day was not too much different. We woke up early that Saturday and set out for the mall. We spent half the day shopping and browsing. Then we went to my mother’s stylist, had our hair blown out, and curled, stop at Clare’s on the Water for lunch, and then we ended up at the library. I am an avid reader and my mom loves reading her magazines in the peace.

I was browsing through the young adult section, I had already selected three books and was debating between two. While deep in thought considering which one those books will go home with me, I overheard whispering. The whispers grew louder along with footsteps. From around a bookshelf three girls appeared. Each look as if they were the same age as I was, around thirteen give or take a year or two. Two of the girls were poking and pulling the other girl’s hair. As they came, closer I could hear what they were saying to the other girl. Those two other girls were using language my mother would wring my neck if she caught me using such words. Cussing and calling the other girl racial slurs.

I could see the tears streaming beyond her glasses down her face. She was flushed, her fist were clenched, her head was down low, and she looked as if she was trapped without any hope of being save. My parents had always preached that I am a leader that I am not to follow behind anyone especially someone that is doing something wrong. If I see a wrong or someone in need of help then I must intervene and at least try. Realizing if, I did nothing who knows how far these two girls will go bullying this other girl.

Quietly at first, I told them to stop. When it seem that they had not heard me, I said it louder. All three girls stopped and looked at me. Then the two bullies started towards me. Remarking how much they were going to hurt me and calling me names. I was not expecting them to respond in such a way to me. I am not really, what I expected but that was not it. One of the girls knocked my books out of my hands, again I told them to stop.

I should mention here that since I was three years old my father has had me enrolled in a self-defense and karate classes. I knew I could handle myself with these two girls; I just do not like to fight. In fact, I hate confrontation.   When the one on the left was, close enough she struck me in the face, as soon as she did that I struck back, in less than ten minutes I had subdued and had both girls pinned to the ground, I told the other girl to get an adult. After everything was explained and we were able to leave with our parents, I realized that immediately I would not sit back idle while others are bullied and harassed. From that moment on, I have been fighting.

In another life…

I’m stuck.  Please calm down and do not call the fire department.  I am not physically stuck but mentally stuck.  I’m sitting here trying to be inspired but all I can think about is sleeping and Slurpees.  Not necessarily in that order. But nevertheless those are my thoughts.  What to do, what to do.  Some people may wonder what does that matter?  Who cares if you are uninspired.  Get yourself a Slurpee and go to bed for crying out loud.

Well, I am a sculpture by trade.  Yes, a real life artist.  A friend of a friend commission a piece from me awhile ago but I could never complete it.  Now my deadline is looming and I have nothing but a huge mound of clay and some dirty hands.  It makes me wonder if I should have followed down the path my parents wanted for me and became an accountant. Although my life would most likely be so much more boring, sorry to all you accountants reading this, I wouldn’t have to deal with these moments of nothingness.  thTY6Y9F0G

Normally I would get in my old Chevy Nova, please don’t mock the Nova, and take a drive.  Just let the stars by my guide.  The yellow dash line on the pavement my path.  Allow my mind to travel far, far away until something amazing sparks my fingers to start to quiver with anticipation of creating something majestic.  Or at least something worth paying the ridiculous amount I charge.  The only problem is my lovely Nova is gone.  As I fight myself from weeping I shall divulge on you, my lucky audience, the tale of the besotted Chevy Nova.  Just kidding.  Someone hit my car in the parking lot of Whole Foods.  Nothing  fabulous or dramatic happen.  Just an everyday fender bender. And now it is in the shop.   I hope to find out tomorrow if my insurance will pay to have it fix or if I should just tell me to get rid of that old heap and get a new car.

Anyway I am stuck.  No car. No muse.  No inspiration.  Here I am typing praying that these words will facilitate and become the catalyst to my masterpiece.  As I am reading this I’m wondering if I am putting too much pressure on myself.  Yes, I think that is it.  Maybe I will try to relax.  Take a nice bubble bath then do at least twenty minutes of yoga.  That is exactly what I’ll do.  If that doesn’t get the juices flowing I have one more trick up my sleeve.   Otherwise I believe I am screwed.

I’m back.  I do feel wonderfully relaxed but albeit uninspired.  Time for the hail Mary.  What always works in this situation.  I realize the anticipation is probably killing you right now and you can hardly stand it.  But this is a little too personal and I don’t believe my mother will approve of me broadcasting it to the entire world.  I think this hail Mary is going to stay my secret.  Don’t fret I will let you know how it all goes.  If I make the deadline and am able to produce a piece for my client or if its a bust and my reputation is on its way down the drain.

Still there?  Well thanks for reading this through.  I must admit something, I am not an artist, I’m a tree climber.  I work for the power company taking care of those neighborhood trees that are too close to the power lines and helping out during storms and natural disasters.   The city is requiring some of its workers to go back to school and get a few certifications related to the job. Here I am in my creative writing elective and our topic is to write in the role of another person or someone we would like to be.  I have always I had a secret wish to have talent like sculpting or something else artistic.  I guess I should just stick to sculpting trees.