Category Archives: Personel Things

Here I will tell of personal things, life lessons, and advice.

Q and A!

(Any books, or pop culture related things are not mine, lyrics to the song feautred in this post as well is not mine. All rights go to Lin Manuel Miranda.)

Okay so a couple of my friends who view this blog have literally been BEGGING me to do a Q and A post on this blog. I mean the literal first thing that can slip into a conversation is

Hey.

Hey

Hey

”You know I have been thinking…..”

”oh gods no

YOU SHOULD YOU KNOW ERM WRITE A Q AND A ON YOUR BLOG YA KNOW. EVERYONE DOES IT

(@_@) Why me.

My thirteenth birthday is also coming up so I thought why not?

So they suggested the questions I should answer so, hear goes nothing: *DEEP BREATH*

Whats your Hogwarts House?

Have I not made that obvious already? RAVENCLAW. According to Pottermore and of course my friends who have read Harry Potter as well.

Whats a song that most represents you?

Oh my gods this question. WHO ASKED THIS. Okay sorry. For me the song Non Stop from Hamilton most represents me because of the lyrics and the personality traits it portrays. For example a lyric in the song is “How do you write like you’re running out of time? How do you write like you need it to survive?” Here is the audio to the song. PLEASE LISTEN.

Another line from the song is Why do you assume your the smartest in the room? This definitely associates with me because pride is one of my worst flaws and its really hard for me to not go with it. Plus here I am running a blog, doodling every chance I get and sketching like a maniac so yes I do work like I am running out of time. Procrastination is like my hypothetical nightmare. NEXT QUESTION!

Do you prefer frozen yogurt or ice cream?

I like both equally but my favorite flavor of ice cream is Mint Chocolate Chip and my favorite froyo flavor is Raspberry Cheesecake.

Have you broken any bones?

Thanks the gods no.

What is your dream job?(Excluding careers like doctor, policeman, firefighter, marine, etc.)

Most likely journalist or run my own art company. I know its a risk but writing and art are one of my biggest passions.

Whats something that you are trying to start getting the hang of?

Umm.. Animating actually. I currently use Procreate just for drawings and sketches of future art but I have started a few pieces to maybe start of a simple animatic or something.

What is your Zodiac sign?

I don’t really believe in that stuff(no offense to anyone who does out there)but based on my birthday I am a Pisces. But based on my characteristics I am a Scorpio or Leo.

Are you a muggle, mudblood, half blood, or pure blood?

I am a mudblood because neither of my parents have read Harry Potter(yet)but since my dad is remotely interested I would say that I am a Half Blood.

If you could change your name what would it be?

Um Calypso because it seems like such a pretty name to me. My name is just exotic and hard for people to say and spell in general.

Do you prefer books or movies?

Books. Obviously.

Which is better Harry Potter or Percy Jackson?

I am not answering this. Too painful.

What is something that sounds really stupid but you still want to do?

Hug every person in the entire world who is worthy of getting hugged.

What are your favorite book series’s?

Harry Potter, Percy Jackson/Heroes of Olympus, Across the Universe(that is technically a trilogy but whatever)Mortal Instruments, Hunger Games, and Divergent.

What book are you currently reading?

The Atlas OfForgotten places

Are you named after anyone?

Not necessarily, no.

What are your favorite Musicals?(Top Four)

  1. Hamilton
  2. Dear Evan Hansen
  3. Be More Chill
  4. Heathers

What are the first things that you notice about people?

Eyes, hair, and voice.

Are you sarcastic?

Your kidding right? WHO DO YOU THINK I AM. SARCASM IS THE DEFINITION OF MY BEING. SEE THATS SARCASMS RIGHT THERE.

Favorite Smell?

Old/New books.

What are/is your favorite school subject(s)?

English, Science, History, and Spanish

Fears?

Parasites, heights, drowning, losing people.

Last song you listened to:

Don’t – Ed Sheeran

Something you really want:

World Peace

Favorite Band?

Imagine Dragons

Something you day dream about and its hard to snap out of:

Traveling the world.

One word to describe you:

Loyal, or ambitious

Do you like Twilight?

I read the first few pages and I chucked the book across the room.

Favorite Color(s)?

Hale Navy Blue, Sea Green, and any shade of grey.

Whats a book you want to read really bad right now?

Greys Anatomy

Sugar Cookies or Snickerdoodles?

Snickerdoodles. HANDS DOWN

At school are you lazy or unconventional?

Neither! What kinda question is this?

Do you participate in class or just sit in the back of the classroom?

Depending on my mood I can be both or neither.

Do you know French?!

Oui oui mon ami Je ’m appelle Kanmani.

Are you stubborn?

This is not even a question. In my case its a basic statement.

Do you always smile in pictures?

Depends on my mood.

What is something you wish you were gifted at doing?

Ability to sing without sounding like a dysfunctional goat.

What is your biggest quality?

It isn ’t really a quality but I can swoop in when people are in a situation that is hard to get out of alone.

Eye color?

80% cacao, 20% dark chocolate.

Most distinct birthmark?

I have one on my knee that looks like a bushel of grapes.

Who has left the biggest impact on your life?

My Parents, my grandparents, my friends, my relatives.

Are you tall?

I am embarrassingly the opposite.

Do yo have a phobia?

I have a tad bit of arachnophobia.

Are you strong?

I can carry at least fifteen to thirty library books when I want to yet I can’t lift my six year old brother without almost pulling a muscle and close to dislocating a joint.

An item you can’t live without.

A pencil.

Favorite Element from the periodic table?

Phosphorous

Favorite character(s)from Harry Potter? 

Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger, and Hagrid

Favorite kind of cake?

I love strawberry cheesecake. I don’t really like chocolate cake though.

Favorite mythical creature.

A hippocampus or a niffler.

Favorite place to go that is nearby?

The library.

Favorite drink?

Strawberry lemonade. Or water.

Favorite tool for drawing?

A fine tip ink pen or a water pen.

What do you look for in a friend?

They have to be kind and have a good attitude. They should never make others feel bad about themselves. They should also have a good sense of humor and a good heart.

Favorite amphibian?

I FREAKING LOVE TURTLES.

So that is all of the questions!! Thanks for reading and there will be more posts leading up to my birthday coming up very very soon! Bye everyone!!!!!

New year. New pages. New story.

We are all authors of our own 365 page books each year, New Years Day is when you start writing and making your story glow. So yah better write a good one.

365 New days,

365 New Chances

This is the beginning of anything that you want.

I have made a couple New Years Resolutions that I do hope to fulfill in 2018. Like first off, spending more time on my writing and work my process through more thoroughly. I want to become more productive and make things happen.  The new year means nothing if your still in an intimate relationship with your comfort zone. I want to go see more places and have the ability to make my own voice hear. I mean I gotta holler just be heard!(yes that was a Hamilton reference, your welcome)I want to fight and work hard to achieve my goals.

2017 has been like a forest fire(in the best way of course)as soon as one flame died down, another one would start kindling and eventually burning the old remnants that stood above them. The first flame was obviously my little sisters birth(I CANT BELIEVE MY LITTLE BABY SIS WILL BE ONE TOMORROW OMGS I CANT)so that was a huge change in our lives. Soon I created this blog , managing to turn my hunger for speech into a thing. This blog has become apart. Almost everyone I know asks me about it and it has actually become my trademark. With you guys supporting me I have been more confident to become more bold with my words and I shouldn’t just toy with them. Here are some of my resolutions:

  • Less Talking More Doing
  • Drink more Tea
  • Less Complaining, more Encouraging
  • Less Worrying More Hoping
  • Less being Lazy, more Productivity
  • Less Grim Emotions and more Smiles
  • Less Hate more Love
  • READ READ READ
  • More Gratitude
  • Save my own Money
  • Help others More
  • Laugh more
  • Dream even Bigger than I already DO
  • LIVE IN THE MOMENT
  • Be Joyous and Content
  • Add more memories, not THINGS
  • Do get disappointed when things don’t work out as expected
  • Less Procrastinating More Achieving
  • Write more
  • Explore more
  • Make my voice heard(HECK YEAH REVOLUTION)
  • IMPROVE MY CONCENTRATION
  • Become more active
  • Spend more time with the people that have an affect on my life and are a inspirational muse
  • Increase my creativity level and let it dominate
  • Start writing in a journal(you know those hard things with lined paper in them that you can write in about whatever, yeah those.)
  • Practice my flute and piccolo more
  • GET MY HOGWARTS ACCEPTANCE LETTER DELIVERED TO ME BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG

I have even more and the list is much longer and geekier like the resolution above so I wont get into that.

Oh yeah, I forgot this tiny detail but WE ALSO FOUND A HOUSE THIS year.

In fact heres an intro on the post for that process:

It takes hands to build a house, but it takes hearts to build a home.

Those words were the first things I saw when I walked into my English classroom a few weeks ago with my hands full with books and pencils and pens sticking out of the mound of hair on the top of my head that couldn’t even pass as a bun. My shoulder weighed down by the boulder that is my backpack.  My hand trying to keep my flute steady before the case would clatter to the floor. While we all settled down and took out our books and binders, I scanned the room. I saw countless faces staring with confused looks on as we looked at our teacher holding a stick pointing to the words that everyone was trying to mentally decipher.

Everyone but me.

That day was one of our journaling  days, but instead of it being a free write like on a usual day like that. We were instructed to write something based of the quote on the board. Of course as everyone stared at their journals with blank looks on their faces, I scribbled furiously on my paper, my hand, mind, heart, and soul working as one.  My friends looked at me, their faces vacant of emotion. “How in the world are you writing so much and so freaking fast!?!” One of my friends yelled in a whisper. I just shrugged my shoulders in a silent gesture meaning I don’t have an answer to that one man. My friend huffed in pretend disappointment but actually started writing a few sentences. In fact, everyone else started to write a little bit as well. As if a curse was uplifted amongst everyone in the classroom.

I guess everyone finally understood what home really meant.

I had been living in various apartments ever since I was brought into the world. First a tiny apartment with one bedroom. Light always filled the room and I remember looking through pictures with my mom and i would see me. But smaller, I so small in my mothers arms with her beaming at me as I looked at her my eyes wide with wonder as the sun kissed my hair. When I was about three or four we moved into a different apartment but at the same complex that the previous one was owned by. This one was a bit bigger but with the same necessities. Most of my childhood was spent there. My cousins and I painting our hands with mud and smacking them against the wall outside the building. Our tiny hands depicting innocence and a carefree mind. The summer when I was a second grader going onto third grade, we moved into a two story apartment(same complex area) two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The carpet was plush when we got there. I being the senseless young girl I was wondered how I was ever going to make this empty vast space a home when I had left one behind.

It took me a while to realize that home was where ever the people I loved were with me.

Years have passed and we have made so many memories. It was the place my sister was born into, it was where I realized that words and books are my soulmates for life. Hypothetically speaking, it was the place where I finally realized that home is a not a place or a thing, but a feeling.  I am twelve(going on to thirteen) now. I had moved to that apartment when I was eight so it’s been four years. I have transubstantiated from that young absurd little eight year-old into the divergent( haha, see what I did there? I am such a geek;) teenager I am now.  My eyes understand the world better than they did four years ago.

I started to think I want to live in a place we can call our own. My parents were quick to agree three years into our living there. They searched multiple websites, picking up flyers they found when an open house popped up somewhere near us. Of course they wanted to find a place that was close to school. They searched and sorry if I was being selfish but I was getting anxious. I would constantly send messages to God praying that we would find a place of our own. My mom always says that god will always answer your prayers if you try hard enough and if you believe that it will happen. I live by that everyday. I don’t let my flame die down and my determination is in me like armor that can’t  be penetrated by the deadliest bullet.

My wishes were answered and struck me when I least expected it.

It was about a month and a half before today and I was sitting at the kitchen table. I was (re)reading one of my favorite books called Silent Luna as music pounded in my ears. One of my favorite quotes from that book was:

“I thought I had died when I was alone…

‘Till you found me here and brought me back home. “I legit am not kidding, right after I read the sentences(that also made me mentally break down)my dad told to my mom:

Dad: We got the house.

Mom: ….

Dad: We got the house.

Mom: ….

Mom: *eyes widen* Really?!

Dad: YES, COME LOOK!

My mom looked close to tears of happiness, and my dad looked super happy but his eyes held a thousand thoughts. My little brother’s face seemed blank and confused like the What the heck is even going on right now. I for one didn’t know what to think. Have my parents really found a house? We’re seriously once and for all leaving and apartment? For good? Thoughts clouded my head one by one; though I still managed to get the right idea registered into my head, even through the obscure smog in my head drowning anything lucid or comprehensible that entered my conscious. Of course I was on cloud nine and I was joining mom, brother and sister with jubilant cheers. But I was wondering why my dad said that they got “the” house and not “a” house.

I asked my dad about it and he said that they(they meaning my mom and dad) had actually seen the house a few weeks before since it was(extremely) close to school. But then the real estate agent told them a few days later that the house had been taken. My mom told me that, that house seemed perfect and they couldn’t let go of it. So they kept hope that it would pop up for opportunity again. Now lets get back to that night.

My parents talked to each other more about stuff like remodeling and prices of essential kitchen and bathroomy(???) stuff. Of course me being the eccentric(and frankly the dorkiest person on this planet) intelligent seventh grade female I am, I daydreamed instead. (Wait it was actually like seven or eight at night so would that mean just dreaming or like, okay you know what never mind your missing the point.)

I was making plans in my head:

I could start a garden and make my bedroom look super minimalistic and rustic. I could maybe even add a few decals here and there. And obviously I need a huge desk and a swivel chair thats super comfy, and a cute little nightstand next to my bed. Oh! I could also get a NASA poster to put above my bed or maybe I could get a solar system model that I can hang on the ceiling above my bed. I could also get a Ravenclaw banner and put it somewhere. Or maybe get a little Ministry of Magic sign…

“-Kanmani, Kanmani, KANMANI HARIVENKATESH!!!” My mom and dad both trying to salvage me back to reality.

*Picks up a tennis ball and chucks it across the room* – My brother

“What the-” *Smack*

My head snapped up and heat creeped up my neck as I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why I wasn’t paying attention to their(undeniably boring) financial statements and planning. I also ended up having to rub the side of my temple as it was throbbing from BEING SMACKED BY A TENNIS BALL. *ahem* As I was saying, my dad then asked me “You wanna see a picture of the house?” I wanted to scream HECK YEAH! but I kept my composure and with a blunt nod I instead replied with, “Yes I would like that very much.” Probably to formal on my part, but who cares. My dad pulled up a tab on his laptop that had a google maps location that lo and behold featured a cute little cottage like house. The stereotypical California beach house. Excluding the beach of course. It had light brick red accents around the window and door frames. As well as on the garage door and the poles upholding the porch roof.  It had beautiful rosebushes in the front yard, with a pebble pathway winding around the chaparral and brushes surrounding it. The windows were very wide in width and tall in height. A tall white fence lined the left side of house and the side yard. The titanium white paint had chips of its reminisces peeling off, exposing the timeworn wood underneath.

My dad zoomed out so we could see a satellite view of the house. Please keep in mind that before my dad actually showed us the house on his laptop he told us that it would take at least an hour to just get too school. I was quite surprised at this because my parents key task was to find a house that was close to school for both me and my brother. I was getting suspicious and I was debating whether or not I should believe what my dad told me. It seemed that the house(from the satellite image) had a gate to it’s left a few feet away. Behind the gate was a wood bridge that let people walk across without falling into the water in the canal below. The gate seemed to lead to a large field with two baseball grounds that faced each other from either side of the vast field. I took the laptop from my dad and examined the area around the house, eventually zooming out so much that the field revealed rows of buildings behind it. I zoomed out a bit more and I recognized the white of the rooves and the painted tires scattered across the last few wings of the perimeter.

Wow thats a really big school. With another school beside it! Wow. Too bad I have to drive for an hour just to get to mine. But then my idiot of a mind realized something. My house was adjacent to my own school. Like I literally have to walk like three feet from my property and then I walk across a bridge and than BAM I’m on the school’s property. I was so happy that I finally didn’t have arrive at school like two minutes before class starts. My parents beamed at me as I continued to gawk at what was going to now be my home.

END SCENE

Sooooooooooooo Yeeeeeaaaahh. Thats pretty much the start of the(SO FREAKING LONG)post that I am working on currently. I am sorry I just threw together this post so SORRY THAT IT MIGHT SUCK. So i hope you all have a great year ahead and are as blessed as I have been this past year.

Dear Past,

Thank you for the life lessons and the opportunity to learn from my mistakes.

Dear Future,

I’m ready.

The music I listen to and play can tell you more about me than my mouth could ever could.

About a month or two ago, my mom picked me up from school. We were walking past the back of the music room when suddenly I saw Mr. Thompson pop out of his car and walk towards the back door of the music room when suddenly he saw us both and said “Hey Kanmani! I’m recommending you for the Honor Band okay?” I looked of into space as my mom thanked him and tried to get me to respond.

“Wait….. I’m in.”

“Yeah. But what is the band Kanmani? What is Honor Band?”

“I have just been asked to join the best band in the whole Mount Diablo Unified School District where very few students are picked from each school to play in an incredible and elite band.”

“Whoa. I’M SO PROUD OF YOU! YOU NEED TO ACCEPT YOU REALLY NEED TO!” She half-yelled.

“REALLY CAN I JOIN?!”

“YEAH!”

“WE SHOULD STOP YELLING!”

“MKAY.”

I was so shocked, sure I am first chair in my band class. But that doesn’t really mean anything. But THIS!? This was an incredible opportunity! I guess I was a decent enough player to get into it.

So of course. I joined.

Now lets fast forward to this Tuesday.

My friends Arwen, Thalia, and Katelyn, were also my friends who got into Honor Band and joined. Arwen plays the flute(SHE IS SO GOOD) Thalia plays the Alto Saxophone(AGAIN ANOTHER INCREDIBLE MUSICIAN)and last but not least another amazing flute player named Katelyn(OHMYGOSH I CANT EVEN AHHH) We all met at the Foothill Middle School band room for rehearsals for our chairs. The band room was now the flute rehearsal room while the other instruments filed out of the room to other areas in the school they were assigned to rehearse in. We all were supposed to test on the Chromatic scale and I WAS SO FREAKING NERVOUS. My hands shook and got clammy when I played, my heart beating a mile a minute. When I was done my friends and the other girls(and on boy flute player) stared at me. Even the teacher speechless.

Well guess what. I’M FREAKING THIRD CHAIR FLUTE IN THE ENTIRE BAND! I’M THE THIRD BEST PLAYER IN THE WHOLE BAND FOR THE FLUTE SECTION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH

My friends beamed at me as I stepped up to the third chair in the gargantuan MUR. Since the rehearsal was three hours we were given a fifteen minute break before we start playing with the entire band.

Arwen, Katelyn and I found Thalia coming out of a hall with other saxophones trailing behind her,she looked so happy and told us she got fourth chair for her instrument. I AM SO HAPPY FOR MY GIRL. Anyway during the break my friends and I burst into singing random songs that we all sang obnoxiously while other students looked at us like we were a bunch of mental, deranged, lunatics(which in a way, we are).

Thalia and Me: Congratulations You have invented a new kind of stupid. A ‘damage you can never undo’ kind of stupid An ‘open all the cages in the zoo’ kind of stupid ‘Truly, you didn’t think this through?’ kind of stupid Let’s review You took a rumor a few maybe two people knew and refuted it by sharing an affair of which no one has accused you I begged you to take a break, you refused to So scared of what your enemies will do to you You’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to You know why Jefferson can do what he wants? He doesn’t dignify school-yard taunts with a response! So yeah, congratulations!

Thalia: I lived only to read your letters I look at you and think ‘God, what have we done with our lives and what did it get us?’ That doesn’t wipe the tears or the years away But I’m back in the city and I’m here to stay And you know what I’m here to do?

Me: I’m not here for you.

Me: I know my sister like I know my own mind You will never find anyone as trusting or as kind And a million years ago she said to me ‘this one’s mine’ So I stood by Do you know why? I love my sister more than anything in this life I will choose her happiness over mine every time ELIZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Thalia and Me:Is the best thing in our lives So never lose sight of the fact that you have been blessed with the best wife. Congratulations For the rest of your life Every sacrifice you make is for my sister Give her the best life. Congratulations

Arwen: ….Wut

Thalia and I managed to just sing a song from Hamilton and make Arwen question why she is even friends with us. Yup, just a normal day with the big three! A while later we were called back to our rehearsal areas to retrieve or instruments so we could go into the MUR to play our concert songs with the entire band. I grabbed my flute and ran to walk by my girls. We sat in our seats, the music stands in front of us occupied with large music folders with sheet music for three songs, and a warmup on the left side pocket, info sheets and rehearsal and concert dates on the sheets of paper on the right side receptacle.

Once all the sections were filled with various players with a variety of instruments in each row, the director of music of Foothill Middle, and our Honor Band conductor both stood up at the very front of the room to address us.

“Hello I am Mr. Kaiser, I am currently retired from musical directory but I have decided to conduct the Honor Band because each year I have the privilege of leading dozens of talented students who have been introduced to this elite group.-” That got smiles from everyone one in the room. “-And for the record, I am not the founder of Kaiser Permanente” He said with a wink. Now that got a few laughs out of everyone and enlightened the tension in the room. I guess everyone was just as anxious as I was.

“Now I know how you guys are feeling, probably scared, anxious, but seriously this is just something that will look intimidating from the first approach, but really its just something that will help and imrpove your musical careers. You have to destroy what is destroying you.”

“I’MA QUOTE YOU ON THAT.” Someone from the bass clarinet section shouted shouted. The whole of the students shaking with breathless laughter.  Even the conductor and director chuckling with amusement from the students attitude.

As we all settled down and we hushed ourselves we were instructed to take out the warmup sheet and play a B major scale(aka the easiest scale known to music in my opinion.) We then were told to flip through the three songs we were going to rehearse, explaining that they were all sea themed I got excited when I saw “Under the Sea” I got super excited and started looking over the score. We also had another one of my favorite classic songs “The Drunken Sailor” and another three-part song, and when I try to say the name it sounded like I was having a seizure.

But I have realized one thing.

If you put a bunch of talented student musicians with an amazing conductor, all in the same room. Oh my gods.

I have underestimated the power of music.

WE SOUND STUNNING. OH MY GOSH I GOT CHILLS.

I. FORGOT. MY. DANG. NAME.

We first played The Drunken Sailor. I love this song because it sounds like some counterpart symphony of Pirates of the Caribbean(BEST. MUSIC. SCORE. EVER.) The percussion, and bass’s, and concert F instruments, the tubas, the bass clarinets, the trumpets and french horns. The whole band together is so good and amazing. Not even a third of what I expected it to sound. We actually sounded like a group of musicians from the San Fransisco Symphony! And let me tell you, I wasn’t the only one shocked with how remarkable we sounded. You should’ve seen the looks on everyone’s faces, I swear the conductor looked like he had just seen a world phenomenon.

After playing all three songs he praised us like we had just been nominated for a Grammy.

Being in a band… its a feeling that can never be replicated by some sort of simulation. You can’t feel everyone’s heaving breathes syncopate with one another with each rest mark. You can’t feel the bouring eyes of the crowd watching you. You can’t feel the rush of adrenaline  when you have a solo or a soli with your group. You can never fear that burst of pride when the large assembly of people stare with shock before clapping. Being able to play music, to sweat bullets when playing, its a good kind of hard. Its the kind that molds you. The music you play and enjoy can tell people more about you than your mouth ever actually could. You can literally feel everyone pouring adoration and ardor into the pieces we play. Oh my gods just… there’s no way to explain the way our hearts squeeze when we fill our souls with passion and zest, the lust for everything you want to do and what your built to. The arts are my way of expressing who I am and showing what i can do. When I write, or draw, or play, I just get this outpouring of vehemency and intensity run through my veins.

At the end of the rehearsal before we were told to go back to pack up in the band room the Mr. Kaiser said a few brief things:

“Okay, I admit, I knew you guys would be good. But this, this is something more and definitely something I didn’t expect. You guys have got spunk and I totally like that. And man when you guys know that we gotta play with grit, you give me savagery.” We all breathed heavily like we just lifted five four pound weights on either of our shoulder. But we all managed to smile with pride.

“So I’ll see you guys next week and remember: Success is the best revenge for anything.” He said before dismissing us. After that we all walked out to the band room. The girls and I in a cluster. As I took apart my flute I thought about how good we sounded on just the first rehearsal, as well as that quote Mr. Kaiser told us. I then met my dad outside and he asked. “So, how was it?” I replied with:

“I forgot my dang name.”

All the Way Home

(This post is not sponsored by ANY brands named in this post)

It takes hands to build a house, but it takes hearts to build a home.

Those words were the first things I saw when I walked into my English classroom a few weeks ago with my hands full with books and pencils and pens sticking out of the mound of hair on the top of my head that couldn’t even pass as a bun. My shoulder weighed down by the boulder that is my backpack.  My hand trying to keep my flute steady before the case would clatter to the floor. While we all settled down and took out our books and binders, I scanned the room. I saw countless faces staring with confused looks on as we looked at our teacher holding a stick pointing to the words that everyone was trying to mentally decipher.

Everyone but me.

That day was one of our journaling  days, but instead of it being a free write like on a usual day like that. We were instructed to write something based of the quote on the board. Of course as everyone stared at their journals with blank looks on their faces, I scribbled furiously on my paper, my hand, mind, heart, and soul working as one.  My friends looked at me, their faces vacant of emotion. “How in the world are you writing so much and so freaking fast!?!” One of my friends yelled in a whisper. I just shrugged my shoulders in a silent gesture meaning I don’t have an answer to that one man. My friend huffed in pretend disappointment but actually started writing a few sentences. In fact, everyone else started to write a little bit as well. As if a curse was uplifted amongst everyone in the classroom.

I guess everyone finally understood what home really meant.

I had been living in various apartments ever since I was brought into the world. First a tiny apartment with one bedroom. Light always filled the room and I remember looking through pictures with my mom and i would see me. But smaller, I so small in my mothers arms with her beaming at me as I looked at her my eyes wide with wonder as the sun kissed my hair. When I was about three or four we moved into a different apartment but at the same complex that the previous one was owned by. This one was a bit bigger but with the same necessities. Most of my childhood was spent there. My cousins and I painting our hands with mud and smacking them against the wall outside the building. Our tiny hands depicting innocence and a carefree mind. The summer when I was a second grader going onto third grade, we moved into a two story apartment(same complex area) two bedrooms and two bathrooms. The carpet was plush when we got there. I being the senseless young girl I was wondered how I was ever going to make this empty vast space a home when I had left one behind.

It took me a while to realize that home was where ever the people I loved were with me.

Years have passed and we have made so many memories. It was the place my sister was born into, it was where I realized that words and books are my soulmates for life. Hypothetically speaking, it was the place where I finally realized that home is a not a place or a thing, but a feeling.  I am twelve(going on to thirteen) now. I had moved to that apartment when I was eight so it’s been four years. I have transubstantiated from that young absurd little eight year-old into the somewhat of a decent teenager I am now.  My eyes understand the world better than they did four years ago.

I started to think I want to live in a place we can call our own. My parents were quick to agree three years into our living there. They searched multiple websites, picking up flyers they found when an open house popped up somewhere near us. Of course they wanted to find a place that was close to school. They searched and sorry if I was being selfish but I was getting anxious. I would constantly send messages to God praying that we would find a place of our own. My mom always says that god will always answer your prayers if you try hard enough and if you believe that it will happen. I live by that everyday. I don’t let my flame die down and my determination is in me like armor that can’t  be penetrated by the deadliest bullet.

My wishes were answered and struck me when I least expected it.

It was about a month and a half before today and I was sitting at the kitchen table. I was (re)reading one of my favorite books called Silent Luna as music pounded in my ears. One of my favorite quotes from that book was:

“I thought I had died when I was alone…

‘Till you found me here and brought me back home. “

I legit am not kidding, right after I read the sentences(that also made me mentally break down)my dad told to my mom:

Dad: We got the house.

Mom: ….

Dad: We got the house.

Mom: ….

Mom: *eyes widen* Really?!

Dad: YES, COME LOOK!

My mom looked close to tears of happiness, and my dad looked super happy but his eyes held a thousand thoughts. My little brother’s face seemed blank and confused like the What the heck is even going on right now. I for one didn’t know what to think. Have my parents really found a house? We’re seriously once and for all leaving and apartment? For good? Thoughts clouded my head one by one; though I still managed to get the right idea registered into my head, even through the obscure smog in my head drowning anything lucid or comprehensible that entered my conscious. Of course I was on cloud nine and I was joining mom, brother and sister with jubilant cheers. But I was wondering why my dad said that they got “the” house and not “a” house.

I asked my dad about it and he said that they(they meaning my mom and dad) had actually seen the house a few weeks before since it was(extremely) close to school. But then the real estate agent told them a few days later that the house had been taken. My mom told me that, that house seemed perfect and they couldn’t let go of it. So they kept hope that it would pop up for opportunity again. Now lets get back to that night.

My parents talked to each other more about stuff like remodeling and prices of essential kitchen and bathroomy(???) stuff. Of course me being the eccentric(and frankly the dorkiest person on this planet) intelligent seventh grade female I am, I daydreamed instead. (Wait it was actually like seven or eight at night so would that mean just dreaming or like, okay you know what never mind your missing the point.)

I was making plans in my head:

I could start a garden and make my bedroom look super minimalistic and rustic. I could maybe even add a few decals here and there. And obviously I need a huge desk and a swivel chair thats super comfy, and a cute little nightstand next to my bed. Oh! I could also get a NASA poster to put above my bed or maybe I could get a solar system model that I can hang on the ceiling above my bed. I could also get a Ravenclaw banner and put it somewhere. Or maybe get a little Ministry of Magic sign…

“-Kanmani, Kanmani, KANMANI HARIVENKATESH!!!” My mom and dad both trying to salvage me back to reality.

*Picks up a tennis ball and chucks it across the room* – My brother

“What the-” *Smack*

My head snapped up and heat creeped up my neck as I tried to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why I wasn’t paying attention to their(undeniably boring) financial statements and planning. I also ended up having to rub the side of my temple as it was throbbing from BEING SMACKED BY A FREAKING TENNIS BALL. *ahem* As I was saying, my dad then asked me “You wanna see a picture of the house?” I wanted to scream HECK YEAH! but I kept my composure and with a blunt nod I instead replied with, “Yes I would like that very much.” Probably to formal on my part, but who cares. My dad pulled up a tab on his laptop that had a google maps location that lo and behold featured a cute little cottage like house. The stereotypical California beach house. Excluding the beach of course. It had light brick red accents around the window and door frames. As well as on the garage door and the poles upholding the porch roof.  It had beautiful rosebushes in the front yard, with a pebble pathway winding around the chaparral and brushes surrounding it. The windows were very wide in width and tall in height. A tall white fence lined the left side of house and the side yard. The titanium white paint had chips of its reminisces peeling off, exposing the timeworn wood underneath.

My dad zoomed out so we could see a satellite view of the house. Please keep in my that before my dad actually showed us the house on his laptop he told us that it would take at least an hour to just get too school. I was quite surprises at this because my parents key task was to find a house that was close to school for both me and my brother. I was getting suspicious and I was debating whether or not I should believe what my dad told me.Wow thats a really big school. With another school beside it! Wow. Too bad I have to drive for an hour just to get to mine. But then my idiot of a mind realized something. My house was adjacent to my own school. Like I literally have to walk like three feet from my property and then I walk across a bridge and than BAM I’m on the school’s property. I was so happy that I finally didn’t have arrive at school like two minutes before class starts. My parents beamed at me as I continued to gawk at what was going to now be my home.

O N E  W E E K  L A T E R

My dad drove forward and turned left and out of the apartments parking lot. We drove for a few minutes before taking a left to a neighborhood that was right across from the park and a few blocks left of City Hall. We turned and we drove past a bunch of other houses, each one the same style but of them having there own aspects to them that seemed to make them all seem different. Making it all diverse. Not anomalous of course. Soon my dad parked into the driving of what was our house. In real life it was even more surreal for me. Soon enough this place was going to be my home. I knew that it would take at least a month to remodel most of the house, like the bathrooms, kitchen, roofing, painting, etc.

My dad said that the realtor was going to give us the key. Since he wasn’t there yet I decided to just explore the front of the house. Apparently my parents and my brother had the same idea. I stepped out off the car and straightened my shirt and jeans. I retired my shoes and walked out to the front and joined my parents. The window on the front was huge and obviously very aged but I instantly fell in love with the way the sun streamed down on it. While my parents talked I decided to go to the bridge that was above the canal where I could walk to the school field.I stood on the bridge and watched the water in the aqueduct below flow and trickle.

Suddenly I heard a sharp, HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII coming from a voice we didn’t recognize. I turned around and saw a woman  grinning from ear to ear.

Her: Hi are you guys our new neighbors?

My Dad: Yeah we will be moving in once we finish remodeling, it will take about a month.

Her: How exciting for you guys! This is a great neighborhood and the location is perfect.

Her: Hi whats your name? *looks at me*

Me: *sweating bullets* My name is Kanmani, so nice to me you

Her: What a pretty name! I have never heard such amazing names like your families

My Dad: *chuckles* Thanks so much for coming down here to say hi, which house do you live in?

Her: *points to which one is her house*

T I M E  S K I P(cuz you cant really expect me to remember that whole entire conversation and assume that I can recall the whole thing and sit in front of this computer the whole time all in one sitting.)

Her: Well I better get going, goodbye! So nice to meet you!

All of us: Bye!

She turned back and walked along the road back to her house after waving goodbye Wow she is so nice, I hope I can meet everyone else here. What a lively women. I thought as I traced the patterns on the wood Soon a car pulled up and a man stepped out who I recognized as the realtor that I saw on the card my dad had. He shook my dads hand and shook my moms, then mine. He and my dad discussing things briefly, they joked around with my brother and me before he went reaching into his pocket and taking out a key ring with one single key on it with a little blue key chain. He handed it to me and said you wanna do the honors? I slowly nodded my head as I took the keys from his grasp. I plastered on a smile but my mind was just like:

WHY AM I DOING THIS I SHOULDN’T BE DOING THIS I AM REALLY REALLY REALLY BAD WITH KEYS AND LOCKS I MEAN SERIOUSLY I ALMOST BROKE A LOCK ONCE I REALLY DON’T WANT TO DO THIS WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME DO THIS MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.

I pushed the key into the lock and turned until I heard a click. Doing the same with the lock underneath. I pulled the key out and opened the door giving myself a mental pat on the back for successfully  unlocking the door without destroying the lock and the foundation. And trust me, I can be very destructive when I don’t mean it. One time I was making pancakes with my mom and I managing to break the measuring cup that was holding flour, FLOUR. Yeah the substance made of grains(and other stuff I don’t know)that you put in baked goods.  How is this possible, I don’t know. Anyway, I was just glad I didn’t manage to destroy our new house without even walking in yet.

We all stepped in and inhaled, breathing in the smell of the aged walls and wood. The walls were an decrepit old white-the results of years and years of standing as a white wall. We all stepped inside, the window in the living room had an old chandelier hanging from an intricate metal hook screwed into the beautiful wooden ceiling. I loved the wooden ceiling and gave me cabin-in-the-woods kind of vibe. We stood on floors that were completely covered in carpet similar too the one we had in our apartment. The house reminded of a lodge, perhaps my dad had the same idea when he first saw the house. Yeah I should ask him about that. Anyway, we all wandered the house individually. My mom and my little sister went straight to the kitchen, my dad outside, my brother went down the hallway to the bedrooms, as I followed suit.

I followed my little brother he stopped in the doorway of the first room, It was not to small or too big and I was able to picture(quite well actually)my brothers stuff in this room.  My brother stood his ground when he said that he wanted this to be his bedroom so I backed off and saw that there was a bathroom on the other side of the hallway. I continued my descent to see the other two bedroom awaiting me. Right next the the bathroom was a large bedroom with another bathroom in it. This one seemed perfect for my parents to fit their bed and my sisters crib inside so I went to the last bedroom. I stepped inside, and I instantly decided that it was mine. It was slightly larger than the room my little brother chose. My parents caught up with my brother and I and they started going from room to room. I stepped out of my room(YES IT IS MY ROOM NOW ACCORDING TO ME)and saw that there was a closet right next to my room, the closet facing the bathroom. I opened it and saw it line with ledges to place wooden square boards or shelves to store things in.

I explored more of the house but soon enough my parents called me to the backyard.

I closed the door behind me but it hit the door frame with a slam that made everyone jump. The metal mesh of the old door shuddering and scaring the heck out of everyone. SO I was just like: yEaH dAd FIX IT BEFORE IT STARTS ACTING LIKE A FLIPPING DEMON AGAIN.

Anyway, we all just hung out sitting on the concrete. I starting fiddling with a bunch of weeds. I starting braiding the dried stalks as my parents started talking about remodeling, demolishing, stuff like it. Soon my little sister started getting super fussy and my brother was getting bored. I too had some reading to catch up on. We all settled into the car. But soon my parents ushered us out because apparently one of our new neighbors decided to greet us. I stepped out and was greeted with a blond women who had on thick black glasses and was grasping the leash of an adorable(and fluffy) white dog. The man beside her(who I assumed was her husband)was very tall and had glasses on as well. They both had friendly smiles and shook each of ours hands. I kneeled down and petted the dog and scratched behind its ear as it nuzzled my palm with its nose. My parents talked about the house and introduced each of us.

Turns out there names were Angelica and John. They are both very nice and Angelica runs music lesson in her house. She turned to me asking questions like, “Do you go to this school?” stuff like that. Then she asked,

“Do you know Arwen?”

“Arwen, Arwen the flute player?”

“Yes that one!”

“Of course! She is one of my best friends!” I cried.

“Thats wonderful, she is one of my students”

Soon we said our farewells and drove home(the other one, the apartment one, you know what never mind). It was around seven o clock when we arrived home, my brother went to sleep, my dad and mom discussed more stuff as my mom made dinner my sister on her hip. And I, well, I was upstairs in my room just thinking. About everything. I was going to be moving in less than two months.

I ran a hand through my hair a grinning like an idiot. Man. I really need to start getting packed.

The time between my parents finding the house and us officially moving was a blur. Everyday slowly was more busy for my dad then the last. He was constantly in and out of the house, when the contractor needed some material he would be there and instantly jumping up to do the deed. Slowly he started growing more irritatible and my brother and I tried not to disturb him whenever he had any moments of peace. Every time I told him that the needed to rest more he would always just shrug it of and say “its just how it is.” It took me very little time to understand the meaning of that specific statement. He has been working so hard on this house. He would show us pictures of the house that he would take when he would go there and conduct everyone’s work. So yeah, we didn’t really remember what a “normal” lifestyle was anymore. But thats okay because it was all worth it.

Without the help of a few people though, we wouldn’t have been able to accomplish anything. My uncles(my dads older brothers)gave us some money to pass by(Babu periyappa), and you have no idea how much that has helped with the process, my other uncle giving wonderful advice and helping with each step(Sekar periyappa). Sekar Periyappa was the one who pushed my dad to buy a house, keep looking, find the best for us. Also my dads ex boss and his brother(Rajiv and Ash Gujaral) Mr. Rajiv was the one who told my dad about this house and literally BOUGHT it for us. Mr. Ash Gujaral was the one who gave us the extra money to help with the remodeling. They both were also a massive help and they were very beneficial, financially. Like I have said in previous posts, I am constantly surrounded by so many incredible people that I honestly don’t see myself living without. My friends, family, even the kindness of strangers.

Mankind, it is so underestimated. We have so much power over our own future and destiny. All of it constantly resting on the decisions we make every day, and our actions. Karma, is another thing that I think that should be taken more seriously. Good acts lead to good blessings, bad actions lead to a horrible fate. Whether it be simple or intimate. Your actions can leave a massive footprint on what will happen in your future. My parents have been waiting, fourteen years, to find a house, like an actual house. Not some apartment. They have worked and prayed, and now we have been blessed. I have been blessed with these amazing two people that I can call proudly, my parents. And every single person who managed to help, even just exchanging a kind and supporting word. You are well appreciated, just because you care.

Loyalty can mean different things to everyone or the same to a group of people. It is either a personal definition or something you contribute(or would like contributed)in actions and decisions that show your allegiance to a group and or a specific person or society.  An example of loyalty in my family is if one member needs something or needs help in a situation my dad instantly jumps in and tries to find out the circumstances without hesitation. An example of loyalty between my friends and I is quite similar to what my family does. If my friend is having a rough time or he/she gets into a situation they don’t want to be in we all stay by their side until the rough tide washes over. Loyalty is something that no matter what should be a quality that friends, family, and even schoolmates or colleagues should have. It is a trait that is treasured by people wise enough to choose friends to surround themselves in who can have that characteristic in their bearing and have it in their mind and conscience.

I also learned something.

Worrying is basically betting against yourself.

The month went by so quickly as we lived our lives around what was going on at the heart of our minds. Soon enough we started packing, I stowed away my stuff in boxes, throwing away or donating whatever I didn’t need. Packing was just a pain in the neck. I expected it to go in like breakneck speed but it was just a nightmare. Everyday seemed to bring on more stuff to pack than the last. I don’t think I can look at a moving truck without cringing. Just thinking of it can make my brain hurt. Honestly I wish I can just be like every other character in Harry Potter and use a shifting charm or something. But alas, life isn’t that easy.

Gravity.  Art thou a provoking pain in the everyday life.

Every single day, my parents worked their butts off packing up everything in an organized fashion. That organized fashion being me chucking lotion and other bathroom necessities into a ginormous cardboard box labeled “BATHROOM” in the weirdest block letters known to humanity made by my hand. My parents seemed to have planned literally everything when it came to packing. What boxes to use, which items go where, how to transport whatever object of use that should be taken but it is quite large in size. My mom is a whiz at organization, my dad does everything else.

Soon enough, it was October 26. The day we were supposed to move into the house and have the pooja. .

A pooja is basically a ceremony that we Indians do to honor something. We do it a lot. Its kinda our thing.

Of course I was forced to wake up at like five or six in the morning. And let me tell you, I DO NOT like waking up early in the morning. Even on a regular day when I have to wake up for school, I just curl up and lay there like an idiot, then my dad barges into my room and rips the(four layers of)blankets of my body like a barbarian. Then I squeal like a pig and chuck a pillow at my dad leaving my dad howling like a demented crude savage. (I honestly don’t know how pillows can physically even hurt, this is my dads logic alright? So if there is anyone to judge, it is my father).

Anyway, that day I felt even more sluggish than usual. I had my backpack ready and sitting in a corner of my room along with a  change of clothes inside because after I showered I shimmied myself into traditional Indian attire for a girl like me. The top part of it had sleeve that got cut of at the end of my shoulder, SO NO WAY WAS I GONNA WALK OUT THERE WHEN IT IS BELOW SIXTY DEGREES AND MY HAIR IS WET UNLESS I AM WEARING AT LEAST FIVE EXTRAS LAYERS OF CLOTHING. But alas, I was brought down to only wear one jacket. OH THE HUMANITY. *obnoxious sigh*

Anyway, we drove to the house and honestly I was blown away. It was still dark outside(due to it being like six in the morning) i complained that it was freezing and I was wearing VERY thin socks with my flats so I started complaining that the fabric of my outfit was very thin and instead of making me warm it was making me even colder than I already was. But my mom just gave me her Mother Knows Best lecture:

Me: Ma, WHY DID YOU MAKE ME WEAR THIS IT IS SO FREAKING COLD HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO SURVIVE OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO MEEEEEEEEEEEE.

My Mom: Kanmani, you rarely wear traditional clothing like this and this is a very special occasion so it is only proper. Besides, would you do it for me. Please? *gives me her very sad puppy dog eyes and pouts her lip*

Me: *breaking down mentally and trying to look away from her adorable sad eyes* ahhhhhhHhhhhH.

Me: Humph.

Me: Fine.

Anyway, we got there and climbed out, I shivered when the cold air hit me like that dodgeball that smacked me in the head during P.E. one time when I got way into into the game. I hopped out of the car and lost my balance briefly when the heel of my shoe got caught on a vine. This is why I HATE flats, they pinch, and hurt, leave your feet all sore, and are just a pain(pun unintended)to walk in. I shook of the vine and continued walking in the cold cold night(technically six am isn’t considered night, but it was dark out and you know what just deal with it alright?). My dad unlocked the door and we all walked in. Walking into the house in real life was way different than looking at pictures on my dads phone. The entire house was pristine and the wooden floors were so shiny that I could see my own reflection in then. Of course I managed to slip on the the wood but I caught myself HA TAKE THAT GRAVITY. Anyway, I walked around the house. The kitchen was amazing and everything had changed so much. The kitchen was amazing, my moms eyes literally lit up when she saw how beautiful it was.

I strolled down to my room and chucked-haha just kidding-placed, my backpack onto the ground. I admit, shuffling around in a puffy skirt with sequins on a polished hardwood floor with very thin, slippery socks is not a wise thing to do. Not my idea of a productive morning. Especially since I was still groggy with sleep. I rubbed my eyes and yawned, my little sister crawled to me so I picked her up. She wriggled in my grasp before she settled herself on my hip, her curls bounced when I took each step towards the center of the empty living room where my dad was seated on a gaunt sheet with intricate threading. I sat back down, trying my best to not get the fabric of my skirt caught on the sequins of the cloth.

I was shivering because of the cold rushing through the door which had a circular hole through it due to a new knob not being place there yet. Never underestimate the power of cold weather and a two by two hole in your door.

My dads friend is a Hindu priest(Vishwanadan uncle) so he decided to conduct the housewarming ritual that I don’t know, basically connects us to the house and good vibes for the house and the people living there(aka us). So he arrived and arranged a bunch of stuff on top of the fancy smancy blanket like fruits, coconuts, other stuff. Oh and bricks. Yep, yeah, totally normal. Well technically in my religion yeah and I am not trying to offend anyone so please don’t go all SHE HAS OFFENDED HER OWN RELIGION OH MY FINICKING GAHWD. No first of all its just a cut of speech god. Anyway I sat there of to the side holding my sleeping sister in one arm and keeping my hand at a specific angle because my dad wanted me to film the whole thing on his phone. My wrist was starting to hurt and my other hand was falling asleep. This was not good considering that fact that my first class was Spanish aka the class where I have to write to the point where my hands feel like they are going to spontaneously fall off.

What uncle told my parents to do was actually quite interesting to watch. He told them to repeat the mantras he said to them, or my mother to stand up and take a dried grass broom in her hand and rest it on my fathers shoulders, whilst with him still sitting down. Soon enough it was seven twenty five and I was starting to get quite anxious to change out of my clothes and get dressed for school. I looked behind me and into the large window and there stood Subi and her dad

My parents let them inside and then went to sit back down to continue, Subi and her dad entering hushed, knowing Thulasi was sleeping and not wanting to disturb the pooja and its continuation. Subi sat down beside. She being one of my best friends understood that I  was not very comfortable holding that phone up so long so she held the other end. My hand relaxing a little bit, we both watched until finally they were done. It was seven thirty five and I freaked out a bit. MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMAAAAAA  I AM GOING TO BE LATE WHAT THE HECK AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH. I grabbed fistfuls of my own hair and almost ripped it all out. I sprinted to my room grabbed my floral print sweater dress thingy and went to the bathroom. I rushed to take of my skirt and blouse. The skirt fell down my legs and pooled around my ankles as I slipped on the dress and my gray trench coat. I strapped on my watch and put on my gray beret and put my backpack on my shoulders and ran out of the bathroom like I was being chased my the Chimera.

“KANMANI HURRY UP YOUR SORRY BUTT BEFORE WE’RE LA-*sees that I am ready*-that works too.”

She rolled her backpack behind her as she trailed behind me briskly. My mom shoved mouthfuls of idly(amazing South Indian food that I love to eat)and chutney into both of our mouths as we stepped outside. My parents waved goodbye as we walked to the gate. We both sprinted across the field(I still in flats letting my feet slowly die because of lack of bloodstream IN MY FEET)the smell of rain and fresh soil filling our noses. I had Spanish class so I didn’t have to go far. I waved goodbye to Subi and slowed down to a intermediate jog until I reached the front of the classroom. I stood there and tapped my foot until finally I saw my friends lumbering down the hall and walking towards me. I had my arms cross but I was still slightly panting from RUNNING ACROSS A FIELD WHILE STILL TIRED AND FILLED WITH SLEEP.

“What the heck happened? You look like you just ran across a football field without stopping once.” My friends smiled, amusement in there face.

“Dude I did.” I said my hands on my hip and my back pressed against the right white wall of the classroom with my knees crossing the other as there eyes bugged out, the question why? written in both of there deep blue eyes. “Dont worry the bell is about to ring anyway.” I said nonchalantly despite everything that I wanted to say before heading to class in the next forty six seconds. “No, I want to know now!” He said pouting like a spoiled child.

“Besides how do you know that the bell is gonna ring, its not like you can predict whats gonna happen in the next thirty seconds…. Wait can you?!?!?!” He said looking EXTREMELY confused. Whilst I still had a smug look on my face before holding up my hand counting down the second with my fingers.

“Three…Two…One….”

“No w-”

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG

“-ay” He said finishing off his sentence.

“What? I am physic.” I said in conclusion as our other friends crowded around us as I slung my backpack over my shoulder while I heard my friends chatter and ask me why my friends looked like they wanted to shove a brick down my throat. Señora Amerson suddenly opened the door saying “Buenas Dias” while everyone entered the classroom. I sat down in the desk while Brianna and Dillon sat in the desks on either side of me. Our task for the day was too go around the room and launch a conversation in Spanish with each person. On the list I received from Mrs. Amerson I had the names(I’m not gonna put the real names so here are the alternative and SUPER creative names I came up with:

  1. A Person
  2. Another Person
  3. A random person
  4. Person I do not know

So basically all we had to do was say a conversation with someone else in español. Simple. One person asked me:

” Que haces los fines de semana?”

(What do you like to do over the weekend)

I responded with:

“Me quedo en casa escuchado música y pienso demsaiad.”

I stay home, listen to music, and think too much.

Yup, basically sums up what I do in my free time or over the weekends. My parents call it wasting away, I call it quality time with me, myself, and I. (And binging every single Harry Potter movie in the existence of the universe. That is a priority as well.)Anyway, the next three periods were a blur for me really. Until Core when my English teacher randomly asks: “Is anyone’s family about to move into a new house or already has?”

Wow, how ironic.

I seemed to be the only person who had raised my hand in the entire class, and may I remind you, there is literally thirty other students in there. The classroom was dead silent as my face turned red, the teacher explained a hypothetical theory about the changes and differences someone’s mind will experience when living in a different space. I have nothing against my English teacher bu honestly, I didn’t think we needed to know this statement because this was ENGLISH CLASS, not PHYSCOLOGY. Everyone started asking me questions about my house and how I feel about it and if I like the house. HECK YEAH I LIKE THE HOUSE. English went smoothly after that. We wrote essays on what we think about society and blah blah blah blah BLAH. I went on with it I guess. I mean all we had to do was say what we think are the pros and cons of modern society and if it should or should not be made better.

All I gotta say is that everyone has there opinions and I’m not the person to judge those opinions.

Gods that essay was deep.

Anyway, I walked back home with Subi and we talked about random stuff like how much we hate our hair and how horrible the schools statewide tests are. Our brothers were behind us talking about stuff that I honestly am to lazy to explain. We walked across the bridge while Subi freaked out because she was afraid the bridge was gonna break and we would all fall into the canal underneath. But we didn’t and instead we were met with a gigantic U-Haul in front with stuff from our apartment in it, like boxes of books and stuff. I saw my dad and Subi’s dad unloading the truck and leaving it on the doorstep while our mom’s took the stuff and put them in each room. Subi and I grabbed our brothers and literally D R A G G E D  them to the door and ushered them in. Walking in ourselves and dropping our backpacks on the floor. We decided to help out my mom a bit and take care of my little sis while we did homework. We grabbed our stuff and went to my room where Subi sat down and was working on a some history project while I worked on science. Okay well more like doodling on the margins but still. My sister fell asleep in my arms so I wrapped her in a blanket and put her in a more comfortable position. All was quiet and peaceful until suddenly:

*CRASH*

*BANG*

*R I Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z Z *

Apparently the sky didn’t like us so it decided to go all demon and unleash its rage on the roof.

Actually it was a guy working on the roof but ya know. Same thing.

We both cringed and looked at my sister who was still sound asleep like a baby. No, wait that doesn’t work because she is a baby. Please excuse my inactive intelligence in hypothetical speech.  Of course me, Subi, and every other person in the house had to suffer and make sure there ears didn’t bleed through to there noses. My mom took Thulasi so she wont wake up, but dang that baby can probably sleep through the apocalypse.

Anyway, Subi had her lips in a grim line and she noticed my facial expressions mirrored hers. So we got up , dusted ourselves off, and went outside to see if we can distract ourselves. We went to the living room, random boxes strewed around the floor. Flowers petals scattered miscellaneously from the pooja that morning. Our moms were sitting on the ground, there backs leaning against the wall as they spoke. Subi and I went to the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat. I was literally starving because the only thing I had eaten the entire day was that small bite of idly from this morning(I was and idiot that day[well technically I always am but ya know]and decided to skip lunch and just hide in the library like a griffin and read.

Any who, my stomach grumbled as I walked around the shining kitchen. My mom had leftovers from food she made this morning for the pooja BUT the majority of it got stale from being out in the open. I spotted to little containers with a red velvet bundt cake and a chocolate bundt cake that Subi’s mom had bought. Our parents said we each can open one and eat some of it but try not to spoil our appetites. I grabbed a red velvet one(its my favorite)whilst Subi grabbed a chocolate one. We went to my room this time, which had piles of stuff in it. We sat down on the ground and ate tiny spoonfuls. My dad called us back out and said he was going to buy a pizza, so we all sat around at the living room and uhh, did….okay I admit, I forgot, because….. I didn’t really care at the moment. My dad bought the pizza and we sat around and ate, talked, laughed, normal stuff. You know. I could get used to this.

Four Months Later

Sunlight streams through the window, lighting up the entire room. I stretch, the cold morning air tingling against my face. I check the time on the white clock mounted on the wall next to the window. My bedroom is lit up with the bright light of the morning sunlight. I slowly get up, one foot clothed with a sock, the other bare, the sock it bared the night before tangled in the sheets. My feet land softy on the gray and white striped rug. I rub the sleep out of my eyes. Stretching once again. I grab my glasses from my wooden nightstand, the bottom shelf overflowing with books, a wooden crate filled with magazines like Popular Science, Time, and National Geographic, bookmarks strewn miscellaneously. I grab my IPad and place it on my ginormous wooden desk, an old-fashioned one with drawers and shelves on one level. Drawers on the underbelly of the desk as well. I grab the tiny water spritzer I keep on the windowsill and spray the plants and succulents on my desk.

I turn and walk out of my bedroom and to the bathroom to brush my teeth. The sky window high above letting in rays of the sun, making my hair seem to glow, my glasses glaring against the mirror. I finish brushing and cleaning out my braces. I go back into my room and tidy my bed. Greeted by my little sister who tries to reach my sketchbooks on my book stand. I pick her up and twirl around, our giggles filling the house. My brother is still asleep, my dad in the main bedroom on his laptop working, gives me a curt nod and a good morning. My mom is in the kitchen making tea, popping four pieces of toast in the toaster, the backdoor is propped open by a block of wood.

After breakfast, we all go to our huge backyard, my brother awake and energetic, dressed and already on his bike. My parents seated on the glass table, the large umbrella providing shade from the sun. My little sister bopped up and down as my mother cooed and sang nursery rhymes, my dad with his eyes closed, perking up to the constant sounds of birds tweets and chirps. I go over to the tall tree and put my foot in the bend. Pushing myself up, my elbows prop up on the strongest branch. I start thinking about how much it took to be here. How many people have helped, how much my parents did for this. Even after we moved in, there was still work to be done, my dad hired so many different people throughout the course of the month. But we have done so much and I can not imagine myself to be anywhere else.

I feel like the luckiest girl alive to know that we have a place meant just for us. We were able to make this dream, this dream we’ve slept with for so long, we have made it a reality. Our reality. Wishing something with happen isn’t going to work. Sure the mental positivity is a good thing and I have absolutely nothing against it but… Its the good, hard core work that really balances the structure. The blood and sweat that our house has in its aura varies by different peoples. I feel like I haven’t done that much in the entire process. But I do know one thing. You can’t underestimate the power of determination, trust, and intellectualism. I made it. We made it.

We made it all the way home.

 

We are the dreamers of tomorrow.

  • Okay just to get this out of my list of Things I Regret and am a Hypocrite for Doing, I once again apologize for not constantly posting. And I know I have some excuse every time but legitimately have had so many projects and assignments due and I try not to procrastinate and we’ve just been really busy I general. And I am sorry for being and idiotic, selfish person. But I have loads of ideas I want to share so don’t worry. Fear not readers. 

This generation, frankly, confuses me. I mean, first of all, half the people at school don’t even now what a VCR is. And don’t even try asking one of the sixth graders this year if they know what a floppy disk is because you will never get the answer you anticipate. Teachers have to actually explain to students what a typewriter is. They have to explain that there was no internet a few decades ago. I mean last year, you could expect at least every student to say that the worst possible situation that they can ever encounter in there life would be no internet. WHY YOU GOTTA BE SO SHALLOW FELLOW PEOPLES OF THE MIDDLE SCHOOL. I mean I have met new people and befriended plenty of students. But I’ve met a handful of other people my age who say they hate to read. And in my case that’s just, sad. But I can’t judge someones opinion.
Another problem with this generation is that people will take things you say the completely wrong way. Like they will turn an innocent conversation into a battle of the uncultivated.

The 216 words written above are my point of view. And mine only. Because I have witnessed this since the start of fifth grade.

Those who criticize this generation forget who raised it.

Today I’m not here to tell off this generation or any engenderment in particular. I’m here to sustain and fight against people who do excoriate it because of what they think we are like.

If you have read my blog since the first post, then you obviously understand that I have a huge thing against stereotypical statements directed towards topics that shouldn’t be stereotyped or have a mediocre definition. This is a similar situation.

About a week before, after school,  I was chatting with my friends Reñee, Carmen, Caleb, and Daniel. As we walked to the elementary school, I saw a group of sixth grade boys and girls jumping the fence dividing the elementary and middle school, scaring the little kindergartners in the garden. They started laughing hysterically when a little boy started crying. We all looked at them with disgust. The teacher was walking towards them and told them to never do that. When that was done they just walked along, acting like a bunch of jerks. They were beside my group of friends but didn’t acknowledge our presence. I saw one tall dude holding a flute case and banging it against the floor, scratching the case and damaging the latches. I was furious. He was treating an instrument like trash. He wasn’t respecting it’s value.

I broke away from my friends and walked up to the boy. They all stopped,  my friends and the sixth graders. “I’m sorry but your not treating that flute properly.” I said simply. “Who are you tell me what to do? I bet you don’t even now how to play this instrument Short Girl.” I rolled my eyes and walked to the spot I was originally in. My flute was placed there. I picked it up and showed it to him. I new he could visibly see the piece of tape on my flute indicating my grade, instrument, which band I was in, and that I was first chair in my band. “I’m sorry, but are you aware that looks aren’t everything?” I said. He looked shocked and clearly embarrassed. “Why don’t you just shut up ?” He said, weakly attempting to have a comeback. “Yeah, well it’s funny how the people who know me the least have the most to say.” I said.

I turned and walked back and picked up my stuff, walking with my(now shocked)friends. Then the sixth grade jerks came back.

They started looking at us and snickering, looking at Carmen, with her Harry Potter shirt, Reñee with her huge unicorn sweatshirt, and me, my black hoodie, and a Divergent book in my hand. “Oh my god, book worm much? Look at her, who reads books like that anyway? What a nerd, so dumb.” One of the sixth grade girl’s said in a snarky voice. I had my hood on my head, my hair tucked inside, so they probably didn’t think that I was listening. But, oh I was. My friends looked enraged and Carmen looked like she wanted to cry. But I just loudly said “Is that right? Then what have you accomplished in your life that makes you Einstein?” I said with the shrug of my shoulders. My friends glared at them and stood by me as the sixth graders just looked at me like I was a madwoman. We just walked away. 

I was able to tell that they thought of themselves as the “popular” kids of the grade from the way they walked and talked like they ran the world. They were the type that couldn’t live without their phones or even be caught with a book.  

This is the side of my generation that many people think is the whole. 

But no. Every generation brings a whole new set of doctors, writers, engineers, scientists, musicians, teachers, artists, marines, mothers, fathers, storytellers. 

Humans. 

My friends and I aren’t the normal bunch of people who talk about homework, what our mile times were, etc. (well actually we do but your missing the point.) instead we talk about life, our goals, and what we want to do as people.( Okay, and we occasionally emphasize about theories based on our favorite book series’s but that’s not the case either) The generation I have been born into surprises me everyday with everyone’s point of view and stories to tell. The 6th graders are curious of the new environment that is the homebase of there newly standardized education. The 7th graders growing their mindset and logistics towards life. The 8th graders are the superiors of the school. Having decided and found who they are and what there meant to be for the time being. Thus letting them grow or stay the same. 
Well at least that’s what I see. I mean it’s not like I have met every single student in the student body let alone this generation. But still.

I hear adults talk to each other and say things like, “This generation doesn’t even realize what life was like back then” or “they are so spoiled, the future is going to be catastrophic. No ones gonna even know what a flip phone is!” I personally get offended and hurt by these comments. We are humans to!( I don’t mean to offend anyone by the words I speak. I really don’t mean it towards anyone in particular.) Whatever happened to this generation will bring great things. 

I mean don’t get me wrong, I am still questioning what this civilization has come to. But it doesn’t mean you have to stereotype of what you see most of the time. I and my fellow students and peers refuse to be pushed into mediocrity! We all have hopes and dreams. We have goals that we try our best to successfully accomplish. We all want to make our parents and superiors proud to have us as their descendant or acquaintances. We really do. We all yearn for that. Our parents pride to shine towards us. We all want to help in our communities. I mean we aren’t just mindless teenagers who feed off of the LIKES we get on social media and Starbucks drinks. We are human. We have souls and minds. I mean what genius made up the theory that as “more generations come, the more stupid they get” thing. What the heck is up with that?!?! 

Anyway I just wanted to get this posted because honestly. It’s such a touchy subject! How long is it gonna take for someone to get the guts to speak out and tell everyone, “ HEY WE AREN’T THE BRAINWASHED IDIOTS YOU THINK WE ARE!” 

So I hope you guys reading learned something and even if you didn’t, I hope you enjoyed me ranting like an idiot. 

Signing off. 

~ Kanmani Harivenkatesh 

 And remember. 

 We are the dreamers of tomorrow.

A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads only lives one. – George R.R. Martin

My love for reading and literature began when I was in first grade. I went to a reading intervention class to help me understand the concepts of reading and to encourage myself to read things that can challenge me. Really that class was probably what really set me off. It was like a flip switched, as soon as I mastered reading simple words I went on to harder texts that can challenge a reader my age. Soon I started taking an interest in reading books that had a page span of thirty to forty pages. I was(and still am)always drinking for knowledge. I hated being inhibited from such things that I needed answers from. By third grade, our teacher in school started reading us stories and letting us look up the authors who wrote the books. I scoured through articles and read more and more about the magical people who used a pen like a spellbinding wand to create magical pieces of text that I come to always love.

But then I started thinking to myself:

I wanna be like those people.

I wanna change peoples idea of the world,

I wanna make magic.

So there I was scrawling down furiously on the paper each day, a new idea developing in my head, a flower slowing starting to blossom.

That was probably one of the moments in my life that really created an indent in who I have become now. I mean the nine year old me was the most frail, meager, simple girl. I didn’t exactly know who I was going to become. I wanted to know. Art and music were one thing. But books are my true escape. Just like placing a brush on paper and letting it glide, or holding a deep, melodic note, and letting it flow. Sixth grade was my breaking point, I was nothing, and everything. I wrote, I painted, I drew, I played music. Everything I do has a purpose. I paint and draw because it calms me, because knowing that I can create things, it’s an amazing feeling. To make music, to play it with an actual instrument, to let my fingers do such movements and make such sounds with the help of a whole army of other players, and writing. The basis of what I think is what makes me who I am. I don’t think I can live without the arts, literature, let alone words.

I write because I want to spread messages. to change peoples perspectives of the world, to make magic.

There are so many books in the world. So many books, so little time. So many words waiting to be read by an eager peer.

Over the summer I had checked out a bunch of books to keep myself occupied when school wasn’t an option for the next two and a half months. Books are always my number one option for when I want to entertain myself, I can ignore the rest of the world, letting myself be absorbed by the music playing in my earbuds, and the words stamping themselves into my brain. By the end of the week, books sat dog-eared, book marked, or half open, scattered across my room like birds resting for the long flight to the southern regions for warmth. This process started continuing on. I found new books that I came to love with all the free time on my hands.

One day, my dad took me and my brother to the library, there was still a month and a half until school started again and I for one was reading so many books, so many thoughts were going on in my head, so as I roamed through the hundreds of books and breathed in the smell of magic and old and new pages, I didn’t seem to notice that I was about to ram into another boy in front of me. I being the stupid person I am continued reading the jacket of the book I was holding. But then I slipped and fell slamming into the boy, my knee length dress getting caught in one of the chairs. For the first time ever, I was happy that I had a small stature or I would’ve had a very painful fall. I was pinned to the floor, the books scattered along the floor. I was glad no one else was there in the room to see one of Kanmani’s Epic Fails in Action.

But then I saw the other boy rubbing his head as I just sat there like an idiot.

Shoot.

“Hey a-are you okay?” I asked, heat creeping up my neck. He looked up at me and met my eyes. He was really tall and skinny, I recognized him from somewhere but I couldn’t really place a finger on it. When he stood up straight I finally was able to make out the letters on his sweatshirt. It read: Sequoia Giants. As in representing Sequoia Middle School, the school I go to. I straightened myself and tried to look casual, I brushed of my dress and said “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there! Oh god I am so stupid.” I said, trying to pick up the books that fell out of my hands and to the floor. He bent down again and started picking up the books as well. As if he read my mind he said “Do I know you from somewhere?” He said as he handed me a book that fell out of the small stack in my hand. Luckily I only had three books so I didn’t drop any, so far. “Well, for starters, I go to Sequoia Middle School, I’m going into the seventh grade.” I said, starting to relax. He seemed a bit shocked at first, then relieved, then very happy. For what reason, I don’t know. “So we go to the same school, are going to be in the same grade, but we don’t hang out together at school?” He said wiggling his eyebrows. He then pointed to one of the books in my hand, a Heroes of Olympus book to be exact. It was actually the most heavy and had the widest width out of all the books I was holding so it was obviously recognizable.

“Y-you’ve read the books too?” I said, you could tell by the tone in my voice I was clearly shocked.

“Are you kidding? I’ve read every book by Rick Riordan!” He said. I grinned widely and so did he.

“You don’t happen to have read Harry Potter have you?” I asked hopefully.

“Are you serious!? I’ve read every book! Oh god which Hogwarts house are you?” He asked curiously.

“I’m half Ravenclaw half Gryffindor.” I said, becoming excited that I have met a person who shares my weird interests at the same crazy level as I.

“I’m a Gryffindor! Wait, who’s your Greek God genesis? I’m a son of Poseidon. I’m guessing your a daughter of Athena then?” He eyes the books in my hands and my glasses.(Poseidon is the Greek God of the sea). (Athena is the Greek god of wisdom and warfare)

“I’m in fact Athenian. I can’t believe we’ve never talked last year!” I said.

Ever since then, we looked for each other on the first day of school and instantly became the dynamic duo. At school we are always together. I was quite surprised that his other friends were my friends as well. So we all get along well.

So the point of that whole section in this post is that books bring people together in so many different ways, more ways than one.

So I honestly don’t exactly know what I was trying to accomplish in this post. I guess the first day of school really flipped a switch in me. I mean in the first two hours i managed to meet people that I barely talked to last year and then became close to them. All because we all shared something that not a lot of people can muster. We all poured our hearts out, telling each other our interests, sharing the books we’ve read. On that day, I brought along one of my books from home and passed it around to my friends. Each of them commented on what they liked about the book or if they are interest in reading it in the future. So yeah, books are everything, words, writing, just plain down to earth stuff. So if you’re a person that doesn’t read often or doesn’t have the time, well just try to make time for it, if you can(no pressure) it’s really healthy for you mentally and physically. It makes you whole, it brings people together, you can learn about life just by reading. I mean, I’m always just like Why can’t I read all day everyday?

So yeah anyway just let books into your life. Trust me, it can change you and your life.

Simplify

I hate being stereotyped. Now I’m not saying I’m a feminist or anything. Trust I am not the kinda girl that goes around telling the world that males have more rights than females. Just because of this, FEMALES are getting more and more advantages. Anyway the reason I’m talking about this is that my homeroom teacher at school said that we were going to be brainstorming about how we, as students, people. humans, get stereotyped. I mean really? Why is this done so often, you can’t just define a person by their race, looks, or interests. You can’t just simplify people. We are not math equations. We can’t be multiplied or divided.

I mainly get stereotyped for these things:

  • Just because I have glasses I am defined as nerdy and super geeky.
  • Just because I sometimes wear dresses I am defined as super girly.
  • Just because I love art and draw a lot at school I’m defined as the “dark,” “moody,” and the “shadowy,” type. And I carry a sketchbook with me at all times.
  • Just because I read books in basically all my free time I am called smart.
  • Just because I’m below average height for my age I can’t be athletic.
  • Just because I play an instrument I’m apparently really good at it and I ALWAYS practice.
  • Just because I write sort of deep things I am a really dark and the kind of person you should stay away from.
  • Since I answer a lot of hard questions in class I’m the person you should always look up to for a book report, or be partners with for an assignment.
  • Jut because I may look like a seventh, or eighth grader, or a freshmen in high school in your mind. I think like one.

Sure these actually sound like compliments and actually kind of frame me, I still can’t stand it.

Now a lot of people don’t actually understand the meaning of the word “stereotype.” It merely means. “a widely held but fixed and oversimplified image or idea of a particular type of person or thing.” Basically it just means that a place, a thing, or even a person can be underestimated and defined just because of their looks, interests, and/or race. I mean I honestly still don’t understand most of these I mean come one. MY GLASSES ARE PRESCRIPTIVE DEAL WITH IT. Sure I am in band but, I mean I don’t always practice, and I’m not that good. And I absolutely HATE  Unicorns, glitter, neon colors, perfume, dresses. heels, makeup, etc. And yes at school I can be found drawing and/or reading a book in a corner, or the library, or during lunch, or between every period, or when I walk to my next class, and then suddenly someone randomly just pops up and asks me “Oh hey, I was just gonna ask you if we could work on that assignment together, you’re like super smart and you like aced every question in class.” My answer is always this: “Oh I am so sorry, but I’m already working with somebody. Sorry.” Those people usually find another person to work with in under a half hour.

What I’m getting at here is that people get stereotyped for so many things, gender, looks, race, interests, etc. We may even use them ourselves without even knowing it. But don’t it can hurt someone one verbally and mentally. We are who we are. And no one can simplify that.

I need braces.

My mouth is EXTREMELY sore. I mean I guess it’s starting to get a little bit better. But when I bite down it feels so weird. Like a millions little compression belts are squeezing my teeth. Now I know what you’re thinking. “Why are you rambling on and on about your oral pain?” Well I want people to know the process it takes for healthy teeth. One of the procedures are braces. And according to my orthodontist and my dentist I am in serious need of braces. I know it’s really weird to write about dental experiences instead of my usual roundup of stories and other things. But this is an experience that about 75 percent of the children in the world need to face. For the good of their our oral hygiene and the sake of your teeth. Let me start from yesterday at exactly 2:30 pm.

“Kanmani, time to go.” My dad snickered. He knew that I hated going to the dentist when I had a really loose tooth. It was one of my teeth at the bottom left. It was so loose that I was able to twist it the entire perimeter of it’s little gap with my tongue. I was really agitated and tenacious about this because the last time I had a dentist appointment, my dentists pulled out two loose teeth of mine. It’s my only phobia. Swallowing something that isn’t supposed to be swallowed. And that included teeth. My dad was ridiculing me. Saying things like “Hehe, I bet their gonna give you a bunch of shots Kanmani.” But I can resist pain. The average human body can handle 45 Dels(units) of pain. But when woman give birth, they feel up to 57 units of pain. That is similar to 20 bones getting fractured, all at the same time. And if that’s what woman go through then I can definitely handle my teeth being pulled out.

We were visiting a new dentist because my old one was meant for adults. What was really cool was that I got a dentist that had a building that was right being my pediatricians office. That’s pretty lucky if you ask me. Anyway, we walked in. My dad spoke to the lady in the front desk telling her that I had an appointment at 3:00 for Dr. Ballancio. We waited for about fifteen minutes, I had to sign a paper with my name, birth date, age, and gender. They finally called my name into the room. The first lady who cleaned my teeth and did x-rays was really nice. “So what are your hobbies?” She asked. “Hi ham hay hartist, hand hay hriter. Hi halso hlay huh hute and I hrite heet husic.” I doubted that she would understand but surprisingly she did. “Ah I see, so you are an artist, and a writer. You play flute and write sheet music as well? Wow, such a talented girl.” She replied. “Hank hu.” I said. “You’re welcome honey.” She let my dad in and showed him the x-rays of my teeth. “She will need braces.” I tried to keep my face straight. She handed my dad papers related to an orthodontist nearby that I could see for an evaluation.

~ Today ~

“Okay Kanmani, I want you to take of your glasses for me and turn around. That’s it, okay now can you sit on the seat for me? Thanks.” I was in the orthodontist’s office. The woman who was with me was really careful when using her hands. Her names was Tiffany and she was very nice. She made sure I was comfortable and when I winced, she always squeezed my hand or gave me a reassuring look of gratitude. We did a bunch of teeth examinations. A lady took me into this room where there were these machines that examined my teeth by spinning around my head like a mechanical halo. She was really nice as well. Okay, now that I think about it everyone was really nice. Like when the Dr. Miller the orthodontist spoke to my dad and I about the braces, he always threw in a joke or two. Tiffany lead me to another chair and told me that she was going to be putting spacers in my teeth. I cringed each time as the little blue rings squeezed into the gaps of my  teeth. When she was done I tried biting down. It hurt. A LOT. It felt like big chunks of food were stuck in my teeth or something. When I walked out my dad handed me a folder with information about the braces. I showed my dad the little blue spacers in between teeth. I sat on the leather sofa Then we were out the door.

 

Never have I dealt with anything more stubborn than my soul.

Ever since I could remember, I wanted to do something amazing. I wanted to do something for someones else’s life that would change it. I was able to fulfill that goal. But never in the way that I expected. Now, you’re probably wondering why I chose to put this sentence as my title. Well when I first came up with it, I was a little confused of my own thought. I realized that it’s more than true. I tend to do things before I think. But not in the way you think. Of course when I am writing or emailing my friend, or even talk to someone about something, I always think deeply before I speak. But when it is a matter in which it includes physical actions. Well… I’m not the same person. I will literally do anything in my power to do what I think is right. Everyone I know and including myself knows that I have an extremely stubborn soul. Just not in the way you would tend to think it is. And honestly, it is the toughest thing I encountered.

Over the summer I did something so insane, so illogical, so utterly stupid. And yet I don’t regret it one bit.

My best friend Esther Vega was coming over to my house to hang out, then we would go to the pool to swim. After about two hours we both were in the pool having a contest in which we had to swim like dolphins the entire perimeter of the pool. After a while a two women and a small little girl went in as well. One of the women went to the deepest end of the pool. I guess she assumed that since younger kids were doing it, she would be able to do it even though she couldn’t swim. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more wrong in my life. She started to sink slowly, but then more rapidly. She started panicking. Flailing her arms desperately trying to stay up and float to the shallow end. But she failed miserably. “Kanmani help!” Yelled the other women, apparently they were sisters, and they both couldn’t swim. I was there only option because Esther was at the other end, and Mrs.Vega couldn’t run fast enough to reach the life preserver. I swam quickly, reaching her. She was wearing incredibly heaving clothes that were weighing her down, making it harder for me to pull her up. My mind raced as I dragged her to the shallow end, leading her to the steps. Esther, Mrs. Vega, and I all went back to where my mom was waiting at home. “I saved someone’s life.” Still recovering from the shock. Esther nodded her head. “Oh!” my mom gasped as Mrs. Vega and I explained what happened. Mrs. Vega warned me that I had to train to be a lifeguard and that it is dangerous risking my life like that. After we waved our goodbyes and they both left, I went upstairs to take a shower, leaving my mother to think about how her daughter ended up the way she was right now.

After I showered I went back downstairs and sat down at the dining table. My mom was washing dishes in the kitchen. She asked me to explain what had happened. As I spoke, my mom’s face changed from worried to horrified. She scolded me for being this way, saying it wasn’t safe and that I should have used one of the nearby safety equipment. After she was done scolding me and my uncontrollably stubborn mind, I went to the computer, and searched how old you had to be to be a lifeguard. 15. I was eleven. I am a criminal. In a way. For days my parents tormented me about what happened at the pool. Calling relatives and friends, telling everyone they know. My level of stubbornness hasn’t decreased one bit.

“Tell truths but say no lie, for you will regret your past and plead for me to imply.” – My Mom

I was in the kitchen with my mom looming above me, she was watching me draw, making sure I wasn’t eating any of my supplies. I repeatedly asked her “Can you draw something for me?” There was a pause. “PLEASE.” I was five years old so my mom had no choice but to withstand my begging and pleading by actually doing the task she was given. With a sigh, my mom picked up the pencil and started to draw. I watched with amazement as she drew. Her hand gracefully gliding across her paper like an ice skater descending across the ice. Her sketching was explicit, and her undercoat and overcoat was perfect( undercoating and over coating is the process of adding a compatable color to the color in hand, turning it into a unique color that can be changed and tempered with to your choosing).

When she was done I was shocked to see a little girl with thick braids as black as night, and her dress bursting with green and yellow hues as deep and wild as the jungle itself. Her eyes were a deep burnt sienna that looked like fresh coco beans gleaming in the sunlight. She exclaimed “It’s a picture of you, do you like it?” I calmly took the paper and stuck it on the refrigerator with a magnet. My mom smiled with amusement as I beamed with pride as I stood next to the refrigerator admiring the masterpiece that fell before my eyes. That was probably the best moment I had with my mother.

My mom is probably the most understanding person I know. She is always so kind and welcoming, I feel like I can talk to her about anything and everything. But what I have noticed the most is she never ever fights with anyone. Especially not my father. I haven’t seen them fight even once. That’s how big my mother’s heart is, she cares so much that she refuses to show her own opinion. I like to think that their are three kinds of hearts. A heart made of coal represents inhospitable behavior and a cruel and harsh manner. A heart of silver means you fight with your words, and your tough. You work hard and your kind and have a good heart and soul. But gold, that is something bigger. You don’t fight at all, instead you show your kindness to anyone and everyone, and show no sign of selfishness. My mother has a heart of pure gold.