Slice of Life: 1-26-15

   I run back to the beach grinning, as my sister plays in the shallower ocean water. Our time in California has been fun, visiting friends and staying at a nice hotel, nothing has gone wrong. Not until now. I continue slowly making my way back to the refuge of the warm beach and sweet parents, trying to find the most efficient way to run in water up to your thighs. The waves are slow and small, an unusual thing for this beach.
    Suddenly, I hear my sister yell, half in excitement and half in being scared. She runs quickly back to our parents and leaves me in the cold water. Confused, I look to her, then spin around, only to see a large blob rising up. That blob was water. Lots of it. I increase my speed as I realize what is happening, think I might be able to get away from the huge, sudden wave. I don't see it, but I feel its presence behind me, my little mind tricking my senses into think that I am about to be swallowed by a monster.
     I hear the wave start to crash down just behind me and realize that it is too late to get to the beach. I take one last look at my petrified parents and get enveloped by the water.
My body spins.
Flailing in the white water.
I swing my arms around in an attempt to get back up.
The crashing noise stops.
The wave rolls on itself on the beach.
And my small nine-year-old body floats up to the top.
     I swing my head up violently and break the barrier of water up to the oxygen above. I try to gasp. I can't. I can't breath. Why can't I breath?!! I start to run back to my parents anyway. They start off to me.
     By the time I get to land, I can breath again, but before i was in so much shock that my body just didn't want to. My mom and dad hug a towel around me, continually asking if I am alright. I realize I am fine, and we slowly make our way back up to the hotel room.

Slice of Life: 1-22-15

      I press down hard on the top of the can, releasing a brown mist onto the model of the trench, accompanied by the satisfying yet cutting sound: pssshhhhhhhhhh. Only a few seconds later the odd smell of spray paint was in my nose, fogging my head and making me breath through my mouth in an attempt to regain the smell of grass and cold air. I move the can up ad down along the model, finding white spots and soon turning them into a muddy earth color that it is supposed to be.

      I stop spraying it, and stand up from my crouching position, relieving the tension in my thighs as well as my mind. I turn away from the model, and take deep refreshing breaths from the clean air. I shake my head a little and turn back towards the model and push back down on the top of the spray paint can.

Blindsided

        I stand up straight, slightly leaning back as I observe the beautiful view across the valley, with snow being whisked off mountain by the wind. The mountain straight across from us is by far the most spectacular, with the sunlight above illuminating the snow, and I think that this could easily be in a photo-calender of Colorado. I block out the shouting and laughing behind me, and start to really enjoy the moment. Everything is perfect for one split second, and the next my face is flat on the snow.

       It was my fault... I let my guard down, exposing my back to be perfectly and easily tackled. I feel the full body weight of someone on top of me, both of us giggling slightly. My face stings immensely, and I reach my exposed hand up to it to brush most of the powdery snow from it, not relieving it from the cold but preventing later stinging. I roll over to see that it was Max, and I playfully throw snow into his face, hoping that he will feel my pain.

       

Slice of Life: 1-15-15

  I sit in the uncomfortable fold-up seat doodling in my notebook. Doing this, I try to zone out all of the people talking around me and practice different techniques of shading with a pen on the side of the page. I am not very good at blocking out words, so I start to try to place faces and backgrounds for the voices around me in the room. Everyone here (including me and my parents) are waiting here in a small hybrid theater owned by a dance company that makes you want to think the they are important and wealthy to see our various family members (my sister is in it) in a short performance. I know they want you to think they are a well known dance company because they obviously invested a lot of money into their advertising, with cool-looking posters and small ads in the newspaper.
    As I am playing the game with myself of giving everyone I can hear faces and personalities based off of their voices, I never sneak a loo at them until they have stopped talking with their families and are probably looking at a program (which was obviously payed for to look nice). I imagine an old man sitting close to me on my right talking about a wide arrange of cameras he owned to be deteriorating with longish white hair, and the guy he is talking to to be a young man that is only paying attention out of respect for the old man. When I finally look at them, I am surprised to see that they are nearly the same age, just with different voices.
    I continue to draw in my notebook, reflecting on past performances from this place and what my sister has done in them. It is modern dance, so I expect a lot of artistic movement which can be more entertaining than ballet, but it also means that the 'pieces' are longer. I brace myself for being bored during this, and hope my sister does good, as the lights begin to dim.  

Slice of Life: 1-9-15

The small, rambunctious puppy runs into the small room at that me and my family are sitting in. He is all black except for a spot of white on his chest and is Labrador mix. I think he is part Pointer, because he is too thin and lean to be a complete Lab, but also is cute and pudgy. He trots into the room with his tail wagging, obviously enjoying himself. He seems to be able to insert himself into any situation and be happy and comfortable. I wish I could be like him.
     My family and I have decided that we want to get a dog, and are looking for 'applicants' at the Dumb Friends League. The shelter is so conflicting, while showing the world how cute dogs, cats, and other animals can be, but also displaying all of the sad things they have been through. They have a program where you can meet your future dog in a small room like this one, and play with it, and ultimately decide whether or not you want it for a 'best friend.' The small dog in front of us is called Tivo, and he is the youngest of the dogs that we have seen. He awkwardly runs around the room greeting all of us by sniffing us looking into our eyes and perhaps jumping on us. He is so cute, but in my mind is contending with many others that I want as a dog. There is a Husky that I really want named saber.
      My mom fills out a sheet for him as we play with Tivo, throwing a provided toy for him to retrieve. The time flies by really fast, and I am not sure if that is good or bad. A volunteer from the Dumb Friends League step in with a small blue leash and puts it around Tivo's neck, attempting to contain the ball of life that he is. My sister and I say one last goodbye to the dog, and silently think about the time we just spent with the animal.
      He would bring a lot of light to the house, and he is seemingly really fun. My mom starts to recite some of his description to us, "He was sent to the Dumb Friends League after being found alone on the streets of Huston. Tivo is still only two months old."
      The statement makes us all say "Awwww..." in unison, something most people cannot prevent themselves from doing in the cases of dogs. Mom continues: "He is a wonderful dog, but might have issues with people leaving, as he was left alone as a small puppy. I discard the information and continue to think about the cuteness of the Tivo. I don't like the name very much, however, so I start to think of names. After some time of considering, I decide to think on it later.
      Little did we know that he would become our dog, and I would think of a perfect name for him,Tintin, after my favorite comic book series. Also, he would grow to be even more lean, and that he would be a perfect dog for our family (despite his attachment issues) for five straight years, all the way through to today.