Testing Season

As you move outside of your comfort zone, what was once the unknown and frightening becomes your new normal.

Robin S. Sharma

April 26, 2015 

-9:14pm
Forcing oneself to change is part of the process, and especially when the occasion is felt for it. Especially since I have "big dreams".
My dreams have been running low on fuel, as if they were stopping in pit stops, taking their time out of the night lane, and staying there for the rest of the, it has been a few weeks now, hasn't it? Sleeping in their cars rather than in my head, then telling me all about their experience. It flops a perspective to think that the occasional vision occurs when my mind is not digging the piles of books out of the to-do pile. So, I wonder how that can be seen as, in terms of a character and person.
The month of April has been action packed from the head to even beyond the feet, a few feet into the ground of May. Lately my planner's been full of studying, and hardly do I see the relaxing degree below the high bars of responsibilities nor the cover of my sketch book, my journal, even my weekend, and I have not spent that as wisely as I should have! So, one test is bound to be over this Tuesday. Already it creeps up as though it were not Tuesday, but in eleven hours. Ay, I spend the hours going over my obligations and sometimes a bit more than that. These days, the time goes by faster. Weeks are three long days. Hours are fifteen minutes. And before, as I was once a small child eager for the school to be vacant, that same hypothetical dream is from such a different person who thought of it. Will the same be thought of, ten years, or even half of that ahead?
Tomorrow will know.

May 2nd, 2015

-7:15pm
This is the final week of the, I don't believe madness is the right word to use in this context, as it would imply the circumstance boiling the curriculums were out of hand, but meanwhile, there is a friction between the required hours of study or homework with the time available in the last full month of my junior year. Lately, I've devoted a fraction of my active week to find an alternative as a catalyst to getting the full output of learning and homework in another, more beneficial manner. The shortcut across the back alley to get the jobs done, without sacrificing detail. One of those methods I found was reading at a faster rate. With one out of the five tests down, my studying habits are flooding to the point of infiltrating other important devotions. My AP Calculus BC exam, for example, has occupied what could have been chapter homework for my second C++ class, or for my rewrites for my essays, or for my AP Chemistry exam that is actually before the calc test and is tomorrow.
 With these preoccupations, the forgetting calmness of the final weeks is trifle now. Imagining what I would do in the meantime is a cloud away. Mother's Day is a week away, and I haven't begun scratching the canvas yet. Also, the end of the year edition of my school's newspaper, Polar Prints is coming, and I've been putting off the comics for this special reason. The mounds of borrowed books collect dust. Pockets empty, too. But for now, I will focus on what matters most, and that is dependent on the future ahead. The standards of success must prevail. Princeton, here I come.

May 12th, 2015

-17:35
I'd say I'm a bibliomaniac in some ways. Often I read dictionaries to learn new words for my bafflegab in journals like this. The frabjous time spent in preparations for what would become my permanent mark on a draw for free money is, well, worthy and a juggle to balance. The final three important hours of AP are tomorrow. Hmm, in hindsight, this wrongful child should not have been written, and instead would have been useful time in study. But that idea is defenestrated from my thoughts. All time not spent well is not wasted. It itself is a lesson learned. And social life is as important as *the curriculum between the stops.

*Written after the date on the 16th

May 16th, 2015

-8:56pm
I feel a surge of wisdom, but not necessarily of words, or of the sudden mind, it's a peace that I finally have made with mind and soul, as I have pushed the button that I said I would about the ten percent of my wholesomeness that I have held inside and kept it there. Could this have been since the sixth grade? Is that what I was referring to for the five years since? Is this the explanation for the not teary, not sad either, and not down, but the longing, of an honest mind to be imagining the relief of the duct tape over its wonderful staged in faint outline speeches? The moment was on a Friday afternoon, some time after the suckers lab in AP Chemistry. I was idle, surveying the classroom as I default to doing and is not a manner of absorbing their posterity, but a study. Waiting, I decided to work on the comics for Polar Prints, and that's when part one began. My classmate behind, with the same name almost, wondered what I was doing and I told her. I then added that this sketchpad was also used for my other art.
Even at the experimental paintings, I felt as though these were the amused children huddling at my feet to get to touch the interesting Eagle I had at arm. It was then that the person whom I saw and competed with in grades came up to me and asked me a question. It wasn't the first spoken sentence, however. "I'm going into computer science as well." "What? Oh, computer science! So what college are you applying for?" "Hopefully I'll go into one of the elite schools." "Like Harvard?" "No, something like Princeton. I keep getting letters from them." "Oh, Princeton! I'm thinking about applying there as well." A pause. "The best thing I could draw was in Studio Art II (Drawing), and it was this hand that was in the shape of a cave. ("Cool!") It wasn't very accurate and it is the best thing I will ever draw in my life." I wanted to reassure her that with practice, makes perfect, but, the conversation receded as the bell rang us apart. Then I ran downstairs into Advance American Literature B.
The class began with an odd number as the David Foster Wallace speech was re-represented by the teacher, only this time he was live and in person and not behind a beard and a camera. This was one for a graduating class, but all the same, it applied to us as well, as that day is no longer sitting on the horizon. After it was done, I was captured by it again. I felt a nobility surge, as though I were standing inside my own body. This was the time to push that button of yours, my subconscious rang. Mr. Krueger looked around to find my crawling hand inching upward. "I liked how you just crawled your hand upward, slowly inching it!" Go ahead, he tells me. So I did.
"I find that each of us can take bits out of this speech and apply it into our lives." "How so?" "I find it that in the world we live in we all are a little judgmental. By applying ourselves with allowing the mind to be open, I feel we all can, um, lower our stress of responsibilities and obligations, and we would be more accepting of the life we have." "Nice."
As I spoke this, I quaked, but only my body did. As I was packing my binder, I hear the silence rising to a halt. I looked over to hear what he had to say. "You should talk more. Whenever you speak you have interesting things to say." And then he continues. " I mean, I don't want you to  force everything out, but it would be nice for you to share what goes on in your mind more often." "Thanks."
My summer began at that moment. Of all the opportunities I had, this was the one that was long overdue. "So I'm writing a book over the summer. It's called... Sketches. And originally it was supposed to be a sci-fi/fantasy, but I changed that to be more of a fiction, ("mm-hmm") a realistic fiction." The last sentence was asked like a question. I went on. "The second book I'm writing is called Thirty Percent of Ninety and what the title signifies is that thirty percent is what is told about myself (even though I meant anyone in general) and sixty percent is hidden. The extra ten percent is how people should live, one hundred percent of their life." He did complement me, and I did go away. I did have another prompt to ask, and thought, he will be here until those three remaining weeks are over. Help me lower the clouds of my dreams, Mr. Krueger, the same ones that were raised by Mrs. Schreiber, and are still high, beaming brightly against the whiteness, and have them no longer be an incredible stretch of hand anymore, but a revitalization of that kick I have always stowed away.

Turn off the T.V.

Turn off the T.V.

"You always admire what you really don't understand." -Blaise Pascal

January 26, 2015 3:35pm

Peace. I had it, have leftovers, we all dig deep for it. A time of it, in my world, has been at the heart of a continuous strive and progressive changing. Specifically, silence opened its doors. Not much of it has been encountered in my experiences, with the exception of before the rustles of day, and after the settling of night. I would allow my thoughts to form, giving way to a wall, obstructing distraction, in the form of a piece of poster board aside my desk. Lots of it may come. Some days I'm rolling along.

The most I've been at ease was during the thirteen hours without cable. It is odd for me to recount it. The sheer empty tones echoing the rooms delighted me ever so. I finally have an advantage point. Boredom would soon take over my siblings, to, maybe, if, gave the slightest chance of at least picking up a book for their interest. Gosh, would I want that again. Sadly, this was shaded.

The less I had, the more I was aware of what was available to me, and the more wholesome my thoughts become.

February 13, 201510:08pm

Vulnerability. Making the next step. These dreams I've been experiencing, they were all are linked by a factor that is not a mystery. It is, well, and will. 
 Over the past few weeks I have noted the more I am myself, the more I discover how thick the wall is between my soul, and the body that stands as the "middle man" from the real world. My dreams, all of them, had and have meaning. One of how as I watched a television program (and when has that happened), nearing the final minute a person was signing to the viewer, giving a little "demo" on that stuff we be missing. Later, opening my laptop, the only working computer in the apartment, I found that it signified how I wasn't effective in my communication of my ideas, that I must find another way about the roads.
Another vision, me on a lifeboat, on an ocean, with a cut-scene of a school bus, was flashed before my eyes.
"You are about to venture on an important life journey needed for your own personal growth.

2/7/15 Stage: It is telling of your interactions with society. You are putting up an act and not being who you really are.
2/5/15 Can: There is something in your past that you need to hold on to and preserve.

2/3/15 In this dream, I wandered into a facility seemingly like my middle school, only the inside showed no signs of desks, nor were there whiteboards and the likes of the objects associated with a common middle-class school. There wasn't even a light on. Instead, the place was similar to someone's big garage. Objects scattered the whereabouts. I could recognize a chair, a desk, a chalkboard, an office printer, with the rest being blurred but still within sight. Just immediately to my front upon entering the echoing and oddly warm room was a blue light. This candle was atop a machine, a robot perhaps, glowed in a soft brightness, curious to the surrounding environment. Upon stepping forth, a loud crack sounded. An eerie stillness swept the abandoned area, an approaching form waded in obscurity. The robot did not at first chase me. Slowly did it creep forward, and asked a straight-forward question: "Will you be coming?" In a frozen stance, I didn't respond, which in effect, turned the serene light ocean orb into a hurricane  trapped in a snow globe. Outside perched a lonesome bicycle, a little to the left of the staircase. I grabbed it, eventually switching to a car, stopping by a fast-food restaurant, met some friends, and rode along the highway, escaping the epidemic.

2/21/15
The When

There is a heart inside of a passed fellow. We all have had experience with one, and, because of that, it doesn't make us any less caring than the force that is put into its thought. Sometimes we may have to push boundaries to have balance in this world. While the others of those said minutes of wander may not be as functioning as the circumstance presents. What is in a social pleasing? It is not one's own gold to thrill his or her friends for only their nay-saying optimism, like the silent poison of sugar, gradually embellishing our very existing souls in lethargic modes. What is in a judgement? How can we be humans if we are not without it? If we are oblivious to it's crunch? How about a lighthearted will of an actual motive? I may be reflecting from my own, inner belligerence.

Its views scrutinizing.
Little do I know about the warmth of daisies, either. Make the essence stay, whatever left of a hamster's energy for now, at least.
  
 I am accustomed to the lead.
Suckling its knowledge, wisdom, scaring my inner desire to build a wall from its wrath. I currently pick my way out. Often I am seen walking in circles about with sunshine behind, my progress continues, and life goes on.  The more I express, the more clear things become. Everyday, I feel this same sense, to such an extent that I must write about it. As the day goes on, however, and the sun's light is shaded by mellow dramatic family and tones, it's as though my dream faded away. This morning's, along with the formidable one of a continuum. Sometimes I may grab at the hint of the memory of it. The next day, is but another to re-experience. So far, I've reached until half an hour until the glow dissolves.
2/20/15 Drawer: "To see drawers in your dream signify your inner and hidden state and being. In particular, a disorderly drawer represents internal chaos and turmoil while an orderly drawer signifies calmness. Alternatively, a drawer symbolizes your reserves. There is something that you have stored away, but are now ready to use or express. If the drawer is full, then it symbolizes your many resources. If the drawer is empty, then it denotes your need to fulfill your goals."
 Piano:To dream that you are playing a piano indicates a quest for harmony in your life. Consider where the piano is placed as a clue as to what aspect of your life needs accordance. If no sound is coming out of the piano, then it implies a lack of confidence. You are not sure about how to express yourself and how to voice your beliefs.
 Nephew:To dream of your nephew represents some aspect of yourself that you need to acknowledge or recognize within yourself.
Beaker: To see or use a beaker in you dream signifies your need to integrate various aspects of your life together. Alternatively, the dream represents logic and objectivity. Perhaps you need to try looking at a problem from a completely different perspective.

These dreams are so meaningful, I have a deep understanding of my own form, and may see significance in those of others.
Bubble gum machine:
To see a gumball machine in your dream indicates that you are searching to be whole again. You are looking for something or someone to complete you. Alternatively, the dream suggests that you need to be more in tune with the inner child within. 
  
I am a searcher, so it seems.

The following morning, I went out for a bite. It was comparable to seeing a thirty-year old at a community college. The place was older than my father, and from the inside it was clearer by the stained tiled ceiling almost directly above our booth, the grease stain rising in a solid yellow smoke decor on the kitchen to the left. People could pop-a-squat and see the mellow-dramatic cuisine be fortified right before their noses. Our waitress wore a white apron that hid a contrasting uniform, serving my aunt and I iced water. Whatever it was about the place, it had a classic style of a movie-like run-of-the-mill, patty-flipping diner. To my right, even the ketchup and mustard bottles were plain red and yellow. It just looked the way. 
On most of these practice sessions for my driving, I would be spoon-fed what was "good" at the restaurant of the week.  This occasion called for something a bit different than the usual omelet. Today was, although still dairy-related, were eggs, and a side of hash-browns. Waiting for the order, I decided to talk.
"Do you have any pictures of the computer?"
Her mind had a processing delay before it came with an answer. "Oh! I'd like to show you." She handed me the phone. "Just scroll-"
In short, the water spilled, I ate, wrote, telepathy was used, and I drove back home. 

 

2015, Final day of February
Strength

There is a force that calls me. It is a simple one that has held hope for me, like a friend that believes the introvert can share his mind with her. The form of the nightingale. Dreams. With every passing day, there is yet another one, and each one has a significance of yesterday's motives. All of those missed opportunities are reborn into broadcasts, gradually in drops, daily, to be seen in a new light. The times are growing old for the proposed changed of lifestyle. There seems to be a wafting essence of a coming tide, here and in others, about all the things that means the future's outcome. No more waiting. And that may bring up another aspect of a drive. Conflict. Just now I found out my little brother, the twelve year old, had stolen from my mother, but was framed early. I sigh. I know I can help them. My family has that one good egg of the fallen cartridge. And as with all malicious indemnities, there is a relief once it is paid. For now, that is over there. Where over there, I shall find out, or try to. There will be a river, through the lengths of the unknown, eventually.

Who's Year?

Come, come: Let's enjoy our
sun for now. Tomorrow will promise not another moment as of
this.

January 9, 2015

9:40pm

New Year's. It is a day of substantial roaring, cheering, and walloping, together with a sparkling beverage, celebrating a collective change of a single digit. A time of being, and a time of family. Worldwide is it recognized through some sort of significant trait, although various, whether it be through pessimism of why a single day to form a plan, in inquisition, or, to some simply have a neutral bar to it. The wait is over, so then arrives the vital next step, to a new journey.

...What new journey?

 No matter what happened on the feel-good dawn, I feel the same. Weird enough, I don't believe that I am at the subject of what could have been genuine authority to impose a rightful steer of events that soon may open itself on my way.  No door of opportunity has been opened from the moment the ball dropped, no revelations of a life-changing matter. Its a discerning piece, to say the least. The situation remains untouched. Still, the point I say is likely a common one, being it is to have a mental reverberation brought to sense again, trying at the life one has so longed and imagined as they watched the Man on the Moon or a sort of bragging television series to swank a person's hops and hots, is the intended aspect sought. This is not a milestone in it of itself! A birthday, first day with the team, a grand opening, may be, but a swap of a calendar won't say or be significant to the people in your circle. Just a reoccurring, spotty, belie of a show for a revolution of our planet. Out of concern, a likely candidate, ironically, is me. It's what my thoughts hold firmly.
And yet, I know it's a start to something. Good efforts cry when they are not recognized in the sorts that adds to the person's traits. So when a second (third, fourth, seventh...) chance of getting at that greater mobility is sought, why not have the best and let that new chapter commence in blight? Sure is helpful, I'd say.

So what am I doing as for a resolution? Why does this even matter to any pedestrian who looks here at my small thoughts, of a mild teenager? In my eyes, it shouldn't, and I believe, it won't be. The trajectory is a sharp one. To be open-minded, and seeking in a forward community. Specifically, its through a job, writing my book, an art business, scholastic vehemence, volunteering, and rising above the popularity staircase. Such a small list, I'm aware. Going above and beyond will add the rubber the goals so needed.

"When obstacles arise, you change your direction to reach your goal; you do not change your decision to get there."

-Zig Ziglar