Friday, May 18, 2012
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Friday, May 4, 2012
Thursday, May 3, 2012
I remember the first day I met Maria.
With my life flashing before my eyes, I decided it would be a great idea to buy a ticket to Dominica right then and there (well, at my house later in the day, remember, this is 6 years ago, I didn't just have an iphone or whatever).
These are from April 2007.
You're getting married.
And I'm happy for you.
But sad for me.
I know you're going to be a wonderful wife, and your life is going to be full of wonderful happiness. Because good things follow you.
I know that we'll still have fun times, and since Michael is a good person, he'll have to go out of town sometimes and then I'll come have sleepovers with you.
But growing up is weird. Especially when it involves huge life changes.
I mean, I've known you as long as I've known my mom.
Only my mom was already married when I was born.
You're my best friend.
And I don't know about you, but I'm kinda planning on sticking with you.
Mostly because I love you and you're the best person I know. . .
and also because I hate making new friends.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
My journey to accepting my fate started my first semester at Diablo Valley College. I enrolled in English 122—the basic English class every student has to take if they ever hope to transfer. There I found my voice and my love of writing. I discovered ways to convey my message not through paint and graphite, but words--beautiful words full of history and elegance. Here my fight began. My teacher would often use my papers as examples for other students, and talk to me after class about how I should pursue writing. I ignored this and reminded myself that I was an artist.
My next challenge came the following semester in my Philosophy class. Here I learned how to reason and persuade through words. I wrote over twenty papers for the class. Again, my teacher had nothing but praise. I was confused. My whole life I wanted to create, and while my art teachers treated me as nothing more than mediocre, my Philosophy and History teachers told me that I was something special, and that I needed to pursue writing and the study of human nature.
I met the teacher that finally changed my mind in the spring of 2009--just eleven months ago. John Hanecak walked into my speech class the first morning and asked those who were afraid of public speaking to raise their hand. I looked around, my hands folded in my lap, and realized that I was the only one without a hand raised high. He looked in my direction, smiled, and nodded. Over the next four and a half months, I thrived. Giving speeches came like breathing.
On my final day of class, I finished my last speech and walked up to my teacher to receive my grade. He was grinning from ear to ear and told me what an honor it was to have me in his class. He said I was one of the best speech students he had ever had. As I walked away with my grade in hand, I read the note he had written on my paper, "Consider speaking in any field you are in. You will make such an important impact, as you have done here".
Feeling that it was too late to change my major, I said goodbye to my friends and family, packed my belongings and moved to Southern California to attend Cal State Fullerton and pursue art. I lasted two weeks. I knew it was wrong. I moved back home, got my old job back, and began plans to study not art, but writing, and speaking, my passions.
As all humans, I was born with multiple talents, but now I know the one that shines brightest is my ability to communicate with others—for after all, what is art but conveying a message, and I am an artist."