The Forest

This is a creative writing piece for my class senior year about the first time Jon and I saw the forest on our day of adventuring.

From atop a short yet steep hill, a stretch of open, barren land stretching from one knoll to the next is the only thing separating one from the edge of humanity’s civilized world and the peaceful paradise bathed in sunlight and the shade of tall tress. Walking across the grassless earth, the next hill becomes clearer. Rocks decorate the brown dirt, a small stream of water gurgling down and passing over the speckled granite chunks. The top of the next hill brings the destination into view, the forest not shrouded by the usual smog of the lower valley. To the left lays a seemingly dangerous quarry of gray and white rock, the most common of its kind found often in backyards and park playgrounds. On the right, a long and winding worn dirt path heads in the opposite direction of the valley of stones, snaking closely by the mountainside and then returning to its original straight-line direction. A chain-link cage, obviously man-made, protects a pipe and the raging water that flows through it, the furious stream echoing through the mountain canyon. Ahead on the trail, a weeping willow sits undisturbed by the light afternoon breeze, beckoning weary travelers to take refuge in its cool foliage. Hiking past the giant tree, the entrance of the forest becomes visible, and as one makes the final strides toward the calm and cool woods, the breeze begins to die down until it is almost nothing but a faint whisper upon the leaves. Almost immediately in one swift gust, a horde of strange insects descends upon you, blinding you from your line of sight and landing on various parts of your skin, causing one of the worst forms of irritation. The quiet and steady sound of the delicately flowing stream echoes through the empty woodland, filling one with a sense of calm that only nature can provide. The sun overhead is all but blocked out completely by the various branches of leaves that are just barely starting to turn in preparation for the autumn season. The light bouncing off creates the subtle illusion the branches are on fire while still maintaining their natural radiance and beauty. A log, suspended from two trees by unraveling yellow twine on both sides, swings slightly over fallen brown leaves, enticing the inner child to skip over and hop on to relive days past. An old net attached to a tree hangs just above conveniently paced metal spikes, almost looking like a man-made trap set to catch someone’s prey. Past this stands a crumbling stone bridge, dating back farther than anyone really knows. The once strong viaduct, now rusting with age, leads over the small stream, and when the slippery rocks are climbed, an old car riddled with bullets resting on the other side becomes discernible, along with the rest of the forest. Inhaling deeply, the sweet scent of the all-season flowers overwhelms the senses, and for the first time, the setting sun becomes apparent through the vegetation above. Only the sounds of the trickling water, the faint buzzing of insects, and the serene quiet of nature itself fill the ears, and a state of tranquility is reached. All of this makes the long hike up under the hot searing sun worthwhile, and perhaps the most rewarding is the view from atop that small hill after night has fallen and the lights of the city twinkle below.

23 October 2003

3.5 Years Ago

2/14/05

11:40 am

So here I am, selling flowers on the curbside of the store. Whodda thought that I could get paid for sitting for the next two hours? Heh. This is pretty cool, though, actually. I just made a sale to a nice older man. It's kinda funny 'cause earlier Jared wasn't sure what to get and asked my opinion. So did this guy "because I'm a girl." You know we woman all think alike. Today does make me a little sad, though. Not too much but enough. The only Valentines I ever got were from classmates, and we were all forced (which I think is lame BS). If everyone [mad another sale] gives cards to everyone elss, then it takes away from the real meaning. Ya, ya, I know. That way no one feels bad. Soft, fruity America (in the words of George Carlin). Then again, what is the real meaning? Who knows anymore with the cards and the candy and the flowers and blah blah blah. Hallmark, I blame you. You're running a smart operation and making a profit. Then Junior year Jon and Wyatt went on a double date with me and Amanda. They gave us each a faux flower and a sucker. That was probably the sweetest thing he's ever done for me (and it will probably always be that way). [12:00=Sale #3] But then I lost the flower a month or so ago. It's in my room somewhere, I hope. Maybe behind my TV and video games. How funny. We became friends over video games. Anyway, there was nothing else from him that really meant anything like that. Well...except that Ryoko figure. He loved that thing, but he gave it to me for my fifteenth birthday. Memories... Plus, one time back in 9th, he compared me to Cassi in his life: Cassi was Pakistan (he doesn't even know where that is...okay, neither do I), and I was the world. Even in a firendship way that meant a lot to me. But that bum...


(journal entry I wrote as I sold flowers on the curb at work a few years ago, I text messaged Jon, and he said "Ha ha, you were a beaner for Valentine's." He's half Mexican so it was okay he said that.)

A Thing That Doesn't Change with Time is a Memory of Younger Days

They say scent is the strongest sense tied to memory. For me, sound more so music, reminds me of the past. Here are some songs and albums that remind me of the past in a good way.

"In the End" - Linkin Park (10th grade)
Disc One: All Their Greatest Hits - Barenaked Ladies (10th grade)
"Liberi Fatali" - Final Fantasy VIII soundtrack
"Beautiful Things" - Andain (summer after eleventh grade)
Fallen - Evanescence (12th grade)
The Spirit Room and Hotel Paper - Michelle Branch
"A Thousand Miles" - Vanessa Carlton (10th grade)
Affirmation - Savage Garden (8th grade)
2BA Master - Pokemon (8th grade)
Best of Trance Volume 2 - various (10th grade)
Sarina Paris - Sarina Paris (9th grade)
"Better Off Alone" - Alice Deejay (10th grade)
"Castles in the Sky" - Ian Van Dahl (10th grade)
"Let U Go" - ATB (10th grade)
"Somewhere Over the Rainbow" - Cosmic Gate (10th grade)
Addicted to Music - ATB (12th grade)
Trance Party 3 - various (summer after 11th grade)

Lichen and mold and fungus, oh my

This isn't my picture, but this does look exactly like some fungus that my project partner and I found in Day Canyon on Friday. It's supposed to grow from July through November, but it's almost April... Anyway, it grows on dead wood, which is where we found it. It looks like shells kind of. Pretty cool, eh?

I also realized that this indeed was where Jon and I first hiked to that one day. It was our forest. At least, it used to be a forest. Once my partner and I reached the gauging station and sat there, I realized I didn't recognize it initially because of the fires and debris flow that destroyed the area. I saw it when it was still a forest. I think it is very cool how I hiked there as a kid and am now studying there as an adult for my biology class.

Personal Timeline, part three

1999/2000: I become obsessed with everything Pokemon, even trading great cards for a five dollar magazine. I also let Jon rip me off in trades a few times and lose my Zelda figures. Our friends Zuhay and Zuleyma move back to Mexico, and we never hear from them again. On spring break, we find a tree with the face of Dampe and thus begins HR. We also befriend Jeanine and Jose and make our own little group. Jon and I rig the voting for eighth grade favorites in newspaper, but the issue never gets published. He and I start writing Zelda/Pokemon crossover stories. We all graduate to high school.

2000/01: We continue with HR and the four or us. One day when I was mad at Jon I started a massive everything crossover from the Powerpuff Girls to DBZ to Zelda and Tenchi Muyo. It will eventually become more than eight hundred pages long. Jeanine also tries to get us together, which fails miserably. I take Latin and meet Christine, and she and Jeanine become best friends. We become friends with Wyatt, too. That summer we all hang out everyday and make a movie that is Jon and Christine's collaborative vision. It sucks, but it's fun. We become the bike gang with messenger bags and are jumped by the VPC, a lame gang from our suburban neighborhood. They steal our red stuff.

2001/02: Christine and I compete for the smartest in our science class, even though she never does the homework and still does as well as me. My dad goes into the hospital for eight months, and my half sister gets married. The group grows in members but is broken by the end of the school year. I meet Andrea in my Latin class, and she likes anime and electronic music the same as me. I get into trance via Best of Trance Volume 2 and ATB. My family moves to our new house about a mile away, but I choose to stay at Etiwanda because they have Latin and my friends are there. Christine moves away.


2002/03: My dad moves in with us when he gets out of the hospital, but all I do is fight with him. I also almost fail my first class ever (pre-calculus) and drop it and take nothing instead. Tuesday through Thursday I scooter to Wyatt's house in the mornings and walk with him to school. The other two days my mom doesn't have work and drives me. He ditches class one day, and we walk home "hobo style" with a shopping cart full of junk from the "forest."Jon goes to Vally View, and we see each other less. My dad moves out into his own place before Christmas. Zelda: Windwaker comes out, and I preorder it to get the special edition disc. Jon and I try dating for a month, but it fails because it felt like friendship still. Wyatt and Amanda go out for three months. That summer I try pot for the first time, and I get drunk for the first time on 03/03/03.

Personal Timeline, part two

1992: I make my first best friend (Nancy Wu). I also have public bathroom issues and have an accident that got me sent to the nurse for a call home and new shorts.

1994/95: In third grade I lie to my teacher quite brazenly and am almost caught. I also semi-meet the boy who would become my best friend when the third grade part of my combo class switched teachers after recess time.

1995/96: I compete with the other kids for the most creative and gory journal every day until our teacher bans us killing each other. I also come up with a zookeeper and animal game that enthralls my whole class, and I wish I could remember more about it now. Our teacher also divides us into basketball teams, and mine comes in third out of four places.

1996/97: I gain the nickname Rambo because I rammed my friend in a race to the drinking fountain. I also have a whole week where all I do is cause accidents for my friends, and I start to drift away from my group. Thinking about this now I see what this leads to only a few years later. This is the year I have more girl friends than guys since I started school.

1997/98: I start middle school and start to become less of a tomboy, wearing more girl clothes. My language arts and social studies likes when I read the text aloud because I'm clear and quick. I leave my group at the end of the year and end with no real place. This was a very awkward year for me.

1998/99: That boy and I are in the same class. We become friends over Zelda: Ocarina of Time, and I am the walking players guide for my class. After my newest group kicks me out (they were the sixth one that year) Jon leads me around until I found a new one. He comes to join me a week later. I convince him to join newspaper with me for eighth grade.

Closer

It was the silence and the stillness that had always been a bother. Humans by nature prefer to live in groups. At one time it was for survival, but for most it had become a psychological need as we evolved into more complex animals. Silence then means loneliness to some or at certain times, and much of that school year I had felt very alone. I suppose now that it was my own doing, but they say hindsight is always 20/20.

To remedy this, I often would simply turn the television on. Sound helped melt away the choking solitude, even if it was an artificial substitute for companionship. O this particular day, our house was still with no way to fix it. In preparation for the change of moving, painters had covered our walls in a new shade, helping erase the mark we left on the house. The TV was unplugged and stored under a plastic sheet. My portable CD player had died the day previous, and my mom and brother were out for some errands. This time I truly was alone.

As a last escape, I turned to my science textbook, more specifically to the chapter on human reproduction in females. Quickly this disinterested me, and in frustration I closed it instead stare at the ceiling. The feeling was so oppressive it was almost too much to stand. WIth my arm over my eyes, I tried to slip away from it all then.

An eternity of a few minutes passed in this fashion when suddenly a knock came at the door. Startled, I sat up and went to see who could have pierced that silence. Standing there with his scooter and a joke about the red mark on my forehead was Wyatt. He came to hang out, but without meaning to, he saved me from that moment. Instantly the oppression was gone, and we went out to play like the kids we still were. As we scootered to the park, the wind felt relieving, and the speed was freeing. I never told him that day, and I probably never will about my gratitude. We were never as close as he and Jon or me and Jon, but we were friends, no matter how imperfect. That was all I needed that day, and that friendship is what we have now five years later. It has survived longer than that silence, and it is what matters most.

Rainy Monday

I tried to keep up
Really I did
But I tripped, I stumbled
And the world kept moving
Time still flowed, the endless river
Sol replaced, Luna, Luna replaced Sol
The pattern infinite as space itself
The same black darkness
That now consumes my being
Eating away at me slowly
Each day, a new lost part
Squinting to see those so far ahead
Losing myself in the underbrush
Of the dark path
There is no escape
The cycle, the path
As everlasting as the darkness
That haunts me still

2/10/05

If Only

We take comfort in the past when our present is boring and our future is cloudy. The more we tether ourselves to those memories, the more shackled we become in our present with the inability to move on. What was will never be again, and letting go of that is the key to clearing up the path to what is next. Time moves on in its never ending flow, and people need to move on with it.

“So how long will it be ‘til I can let go?”

The Walk

It was a spring evening that, for all appearances, seemed like any other. The sun had all but disappeared on the horizon, its pink hues mixing in the baby blue sky. It was so simple, but yet it was still a most amazing sight. Voices from the park were carried on the gentle breeze as children laughed and played joyfully, knowing that the school year was coming to a close. Their elementary school was to the west, just beneath the glowing ball. At one time it was my school as well, and there had begun the journey of academia. It had been five years since the promotion to the awkward transitional stage of intermediate school, and already I was half way through high school. Not much had changed in that time save for the company I kept. Through all the fighting that year, we all stuck together, trying as desperately as everyone else to figure out life. We all thought we were different, even chosen as we dubbed ourselves. None of this would matter. The school year was not the only thing coming to an end. As strong as our bonds were, they had suffered the strains and been fractured just enough to release easily. The ravaging of time could not have compared with what we did to ourselves. New bonds were forming. Comrades were leaving. And in the midst of this change, a curious urging compelled me to grab my scooter that afternoon and take off. The spot I stood in as I watched the sunset, felt the wind, and heard the kids playing was the point at which four paths diverged. That chapter of my life was over at that moment, and I knew that never again would I look at the park the same way. At the same time, there were new ways to go, a new phase to embrace. Instead of longing for what was coming to a close, it was something to stride forth into. About to turn sixteen and lose much of what had become important, I took the path I used least, knowing I never again would. Somehow in that moment I realized everything had changed. Everything was as mutable as the wind, and actually, it felt okay.