Through my eyes: Tactics and Strategy (Eyes on You II)

A/N: This one feels like an accomplishment, perhaps, no, for sure, there are a lot of mistakes but I´m pretty excited that I got to write two Jmemories in it. I think in this post he´s spoken more than ever before. This post is much longer as well and has references of some songs and a poem, I´ll add a link of those below. 

This is the first of a few posts that I want to dedicate to some kids I met. This one I want to dedicate to Bry, he was one of my students and though he´s nothing like the characters in this story, I was reminded of him as I wrote the first Jmemory. Bry was an example of what dedication, effort and a bright personality can accomplish, also he had a beautiful, supportive family. A true example, he´d be a HS freshman this year, I know he's doing great. 

On less loaded things haha Saku, what did my girl do in the last post to make you dislike her? haha she was behaving well -for her- :p I wonder if you´ll get a glimpse of why J decided to go in this trip.

finally, to the post! ah, no, before that, Josh challenged me and I just had to accept. He knows writing flashback...I´m just not good at it but... haha ok, anyway, I hope it´s not too confusing, what I did, in case it was too bad, is to write in italics everything that is flashback. I hope it helps /////_//////

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We parked on a dirt parking lot under a tree. There were scattered SUV´s and jeeps under trees. There was some kind of kiosk with benches made of logs where a group of people were chatting apparently waiting for more people to arrive. We took our things out, each one of us had a backpack, I had my guitar and the picnic basket. Marissa had the map and a camera and Nichole just her backpack. We stopped in the center of the place while Mari surveyed the area, like every other forest it was all green and it all looked similar to me.

“Lead the way, carina” Nic had a hint of teasing in her tone

“According to this –Marissa was still staring at the map –we have to go… -she looked at the many paths all around us –here” she walked to the one at her left as she extended her hand to me. We walked in silence for a while, Marissa and I walked hand in hand leading the way and Nichole walked a few steps behind us. At times Marissa stopped to either check the map or take a picture and she randomly pointed to flowers, birds or butterflies

“I hope I don’t get us lost” Mari said biting her lip after a while

“I thought we were following the map” I raised my eyebrows

“We are but this might have been the wrong path” she told me with some concern.

“As long as we can go back” I said. Getting lost was not something I wanted

“Mh…”

“It´ll be part of the adventure” Nichole said behind us in her calmed tone of voice, we both turned to look at her, she was looking up the trees and had her tiny smile in place. I think her confidence made us relax. I shook my head at how easy that had been I knew both Marissa and I knew how good she was at finding her way. I knew very well that she wouldn’t let us get lost. That I trusted that made me feel a little annoyed.

An hour later we were at the sightseeing deck. It was twice the size of the one at the log house. It was a beautiful place. The sky was blue without clouds. Birds chirped everywhere hidden in the tree tops that were green and yellow. I could see rocky mountains in the distance right in front of us. A click let me know Marissa had taken a picture of me watching the place. I smiled for her and she took another picture.

“It´s your turn” I extended my hand and she gave me the camera and stood still with a smile in place

“Nini, come here!” Mari called Nichole who was behind me watching down leaned on the wooden railing.  She turned around and rolled her eyes

“You come here” she replied and Mari rolled her eyes this time but she went to where Nichole was. Nic extended her hand motioning for the camera

“No, no, no, don’t give it to her –Marissa said- I want a picture with you, you silly” Marissa smiled

“Marissa, no. You know I don’t like getting pictures taken”

“Whatever. Josh, take her picture, please”

“Marissa” Nichole hissed

“Come on!” Marissa tried to hug her with an arm but Nichole moved away

“Mari, no, just no, I´ll take yours and Josh´s”

“Just one, come one, it won´t kill you”

“You´re allowed to draw me if you want” NIc offered with a smirk and Marissa scoffed

“If you stayed still for a second!”

“Can´t help it –she shrugged and took the camera from me- but I´m good at taking pictures” she smiled a mischievous smile as Mari extended her arms to me putting. Nichole took a picture of that and then anther as soon as I stepped next to Marissa and then one when she hugged me. She seemed to like taking picture without letting us know she was about to take them

“One picture, please –Mari pouted- I can´t believe no one has ever taken a picture of you”

“Only if they were going to kill me” Nic shrugged. Marissa frowned and shook her head

“The things you said to not get a picture. Make a better lie” Marissa rolled her eyes. I was almost certain that it was not a lie at all

“I have one and had no murderous intentions” I chuckled at the end, Nichole gasped making Marissa laugh and high five me

“Ha! Good one, tesoro! Now, I deserve one” Marissa pointed a finger at Nichole who sighed and narrowed her eyes at me as she gave me the camera, I shrugged

“Only one” she told me as she leaned against the railing, she had a smirk on face that contrasted with Mari´s happy one

“Now, you too –Marissa came next to me –don’t say no, Nini –Marissa scolded before she could talk –this one´s for lying” she poked her tongue out

“Is this ok by you?” Nichole asked me. It took me aback.

“Yeah” I furrowed my eyebrows. Why wouldn’t it be I thought she wouldn’t want one with me. I went to stand next to her and as soon as I stood there she pushed herself up and sat on the railing very quick. It startled me.

“Jesus! –I exclaimed as I took hold of her hand- you´re gonna fall!”

“I´m fine” she tried to suppress a chuckle

“Get off there” I insisted, it was a high

“If I fall, I´ll fall on my feet” she winked but I didn’t let go of her “You miss took more than one picture so stop it” Nichole said to Marissa who giggled

“They are blurred –she said innocently- plus you can always erase them later, now, look over here and say cheese” Mari instructed as I let go of Nichole bu still looked at her

“Look at the camera boy, I´ll hold on to you” Nic placed her hand on my shoulder. Mari counted up to three

After the pictures we sat down on the deck to just watch the sky, each one of us with a bottle of water and snacks. Nichole was just eating one of those tiny lollipops and had her drawing pad on her bent knees, a blue drawing pencil in her hand, her head slightly tilted to the left, her short hair covering part of her face, her hand moved as her face went from the scenery before us to the paper. I wondered what she was thinking about. I had always wondered what she thought while she draw, it was the only time that I had seen her face completely relaxed. She usually looked calmed but somehow not but when drawing and painting she seemed to be just a girl.

“You went silent on me –Marissa said in a sing-song voice next to me, my eyes expanded a little –what are you thinking?” she smiled her easy smile. I couldn’t help but smile back, all the time, I shook my head

“Your smile´s really contagious” I said still smiling. She blinked once and her smile grew making her eyes become smaller

“You have a nice smile, too. Perfect white teeth” she touched my cheek “Do you like it here?”

“It´s beautiful” I leaned back until my back touched the deck and then I placed my hands under my head and bent my leg. I looked up at the pieces of sky between the leaves of the trees just above us. It was very quiet but not really, the place hummed with its own quiet music directed by the soft breeze

“You go a lot inside your head” Marissa commented looking down at me, she was still sitting down. I wondered if this would be a problem with her eventually, so far she was ok with it but then most of my dates are, they like that I listen but when I didn’t speak enough they didn’t like it either “I think I´m into quiet people –Marissa continued without asking for a reply- this one –she pointed to Nic at her side with her thumb- is always quiet unless I force her to talk, she makes me become a jerk” she laughed quietly. I smiled and nodded a little, you tended to feel like you were forcing her to talk all the time

“Look at her now, I bet she´s pretending she´s not listening –she glanced at the other girl- but you won’t pretend you don’t listen, right?” Mari smiled and touched my arm; I shook my head as reply

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, she smiled

“That you go a lot in your head and that you didn’t tell me what you were thinking” her lips moved in a very gracious way, it seemed to me that every time she said “you” she was about to kiss someone

“Every time you say you, it seems like you´re kissing the air” I told her in almost a whisper, she laughed throwing her head back with delight

“I kiss the air that you breathe” she said it slowly emphasizing the word “you”. I chuckled

“I like that –I smiled showing all my teeth –it´s maybe even song material” I winked

“Don’t you think it was too much?” she smiled and touched her arm

“Nope, I don’t mind impromptu poetry”

“Even the desperate one?” she tilted her head. I chuckled

“It didn’t sound desperate”

“You are very soothing” again Marissa emphasized the word you and I touched her lips lightly with my fingers for a second

“Thank you”

“And you don’t even say much, how do you do it?”

“No idea, maybe it´s you, maybe it´s the place, it´s …soothing here, quiet but not really –I closed my eyes listening to the music of the air caressing the trees- there´s a lot going on” I opened my eyes

“Is it like that in here?” her finger touched my temple. I pondered

“Sometimes”

“What´s happening?” she asked

“The birds are talking” I replied, unsure of whether I meant in my head or around us

“What are they saying?” she followed my lead

“That they like this place -I thought of the waterfall for a second, it made me uneasy but I think I wanted to try, to see how close I could get, I always wanted to start facing that irrational fear but always ended up giving up –they also would like to capture this peace and take it everywhere with them” I finished with eyes closed

“They don’t carry it around with them?”

“I think they forget sometimes… it´s easy to forget with everything else…there´s not many trees in other places where they can find shelter”

“Oh, are they worried about shelter?” Mari frowned a little. I chuckled

“I don’t know what I´m saying anymore” I said truthfully. It had been about me but shelter was not something I thought I lacked of

“No more bird whispered?” she smiled her easy smile

“Oh –she pouted- do you think they´ll understand if I tell them that I have a window sill where they can find shelter any time they want?” her eyes were bright and her smile soft, like her words. I smiled

“I think they got it” I sat up to kiss her but she met me half way so I didn’t fully sit, it was a little like doing crunches

“Great –she smiled and I went back to lying on the floor- I think… mmm I think we´ve ignored Nini…”

“Oh, yeah, that… yeah” my eyes expanded a bit, we´d been talking softly and very close

“Nini…” Marissa started

“Carry on, carina, I´m not feeling left out at all” Nichole said as if distracted. I wonder if she was distracted, she´d basically let us know she´d been listening to our words even if they had been almost whispers. I sat up and looked over Mari at her. She was still with her drawing pad but she was no longer looking at the scenery but just drawing, she was very focused on it.

“Can we, like, have a conversation where the three of us talk?” Marissa said looking to Nichole and back to me. I shrugged my agreement.

“Can´t talk while I draw” Nichole said. Liar, I thought

“Then stop drawing, this is not an assignment”

“Neither´s talking”

“What are you drawing?” I intervened. I felt at that moment that my mind was a computer screen when you click something and some virus makes tons of windows pop up with videos or random stuff. In my mind, several images of me asking that same question popped up. Nichole paused; maybe the same happened to her, maybe not.

“The birds that left before Marissa could take a picture”

“Can I see?” Mari asked. Nic lifted her drawing pad, there were two birds, one next to the other on a thin branch, one was finished made in charcoal, and the other was just starting to be shaded

“They were not like that –I commented- but they´re good” I said, she raised both eyebrows

“Ouch –Marissa winced and laughed- you just stabbed her ego!”

“Oh, I…” I started

“Don’t listen to her” Nichole rolled her eyes, going back to her drawing, I looked at Marissa

“At school she usually gets a ‘ah, you´re talented’ or ‘you´re a natural’ or stuff like that…. Nini was really mad when one of the professors said one of her works was just ‘a good one’” Marissa related, Nichole scoffed

“He didn’t say it was good –she said not looking at us but at the scenery- he said it didn’t have feeling which is an entirely different thing”

“Nini asked for her grade to be revised, made other professors to look at it, she really didn’t want that failing grade” Marissa chuckled

“I thought you didn’t care about grades or taking courses twice” I said. She´d always said she didn’t care but I knew it was not true, she always did the work and did it well

“I don’t care about that but his argument was one I couldn’t respect. He couldn’t grade the feeling of it. You just can’t grade feeling –she made air quotation marks- it was too subjective”

“I thought all art was subjective” I replied

“It is” Mari chuckled

“Yeah –Nichole agreed- but technique is graded, quality and originality as well. That was the criteria to be evaluated at the time, so he didn’t even have that argument there” she lifted her chin a little

“Professor Fleming told her –Mari said- that her technique and finesse were great but that it had no feeling to it, it didn’t produce anything”

“What did you do?” I asked curious and amused

“She made a book; it was a small black leather bound book with three roses, two of them dead and, I think, a melted candle –Mari replied- sorry, Nini, but it wasn’t that good, I never got it. Why did you do that for such assignment?” Mari asked

“What was the assignment?” I inquired

“Something like showing your worst memory in a simple way” Mari explained shaking her head “I guess it was simple, what you did but…I don’t know” she told Nic with a small shrug

“Oh…” I said knowing what that book must have been “Did you get the failing grade?”

“Yes and after that Fleming did his best to get me the lowest possible grades –Nic said and grinned- and I did my best to make him give me the best grades”

“She loves contradicting people” Mari laughed

“It made me improve. It´s been one of my best courses” Nic smirked

“What did you do?” I asked Marissa

“Leaving home –she said and wrinkled her nose a little- but bad memories no more, we should talk about our best one. What´s your happiest memory, tesoro?” she asked, her smile lingered. Both girls looked my way.

"Mhh...-I hummed- my best memory is from the afternoon that my dad gave me my first guitar- I told the girls remembering being surprised that he was home early  -I was about six, maybe seven, I was having troubles in school and didn't want to go anymore" I explained distantly remembering my childhood heart aches. After my accident I hadn't been the same but I hadn't noticed until that week but it´s not like I have that many recollections of the first few years after my accident, only glimpses come to me from time to time, it's the feeling of what I lived and the nightmares that are the most vivid.

"My grandpa who always got me to do the unpleasant things -I shook my head clearing it from the double pain that thinking of Alexander caused me with the two opposite faces he had- like taking medicines, going to the doctor, eating my lunch, things like that –I explained- at that time, he just couldn't make speak of what was wrong so one day my dad came home and...” I smiled down to the floor remembering that afternoon.

“Hi son” My dad had said smiling to me

“You´re early, daddy” I had been surprised it wasn´t a usual occurrence that he came home before seven. I hadn’t known that mom had asked him to talk to me.

“I had a good day so I decided I could come talk to you – he sat next to me and slung an arm on my shoulder- we closed a great deal, money straight to your college fund –he chuckled- I had some problems while doing it, obstacles but I knew I could work it out. Do you know why I knew?” I had been excited that he was speaking to me about his day and that he had asked for my opinion

 “Because you’re good at what you do” I had repeated what my mom had always said and that had earned me a chuckle and squeeze

“That´s true but remember when mom wanted to redecorate the kitchen? –Six or seven year old me nodded- remember what happened when I moved the furniture?” he´d asked and I had laughed

“You broke the water pipe and mom was angry. She had to pick me up”

“Yeah –he had grimaced- and I couldn’t make it stop and ended up leaving us without water until the guy came. He was good at his job, don’t you think?”

“Yes, mom was happy”

“Yes, she was. Remember later that day the other guys came to help her make things pretty?”

“Yeah but Aaron and I helped, we picked the colors with mom” It had been important for me at the time that he remembered that we had helped

“Yes, of course you did –I almost laughed remembering how he laughed quietly and rustled my hair before speaking again- but I didn’t and that is because I´m not good at that. You see, son, I am very good at what I do but I´m very bad at other things, just like mom is very good at being a doctor but is very bad at closing deals, you too, are going to be good at some things and bad at others” he´d said as he touched my shoulder with his hand

“But I´m bad at everything –I replied- I´m the dumb twin –I cried bitter and angry tears.- Aaron is much better, he´s smarter and…” I had been in a different class, with much less requirements, less classes. I hadn’t noticed until it had been pointed out to me by the kids in Aaron´s class. Some kids can be mean to others; I had ended up believing they had been right about me.

“No, Joshua, that is not true –my dad had stopped me. I had seen how knowing what was wrong had hurt him too- You´re twins but you´re different and that is alright. We love you for who you are and we love your brother for who he is. Now, Josh, sometimes things are harder for some people, life puts more obstacles in their life, accidents happen –he had stopped to clear his throat- but that just means you are and you´ll be stronger –he hugged me tightly- you’re a fighter” He´d told me and I had just stared down at my lap not feeling strong at all

"He told me I just had to try my hardest because no one's good when they are just starting something new” I told the girls a short version of his speech but I remembered every single word dad had told me that afternoon

“It takes time to get good at things. When I was your age –he´d continued- I wasn’t good at closing deals, I lost money before I got good at it and mom puked at the sight of blood, she could´ve said she going to be a bad doctor, don’t you think? But she and I tried our best at everything until we figured out what we were good at and didn’t let what we weren’t good at make us sad. You just have to try your very best, just like you do everyday”

“Then he asked me to wait and went to get something, an old black acoustic guitar. He played a very complicated song and told me that when he was my age he couldn’t do it. I had just stared –I chuckled looking at the two girl looking attentively back at me- He touched a string -I took my guitar and touched the string he had touched- and asked me if that sounded like music, I said it didn't, then he played something like this -I played a small progression, just a few chords- and asked me if that sounded like music"

"Awww" Mari cooed, Nic's eyes were intense as if she was memorizing my every move. I smiled at Mari before continuing with my story

"I told him it did, and he explained that he wasn't good at it before but life was like playing the guitar, you keep practicing and trying until you get it right, until you get what you want” –I remembered he´d said to notice how one string along with the others made music, that life was the same, at first it might not be music but with time and practice it sounded like music, a melody you were good at. Dad told me I had been good at reminding him that he liked playing the guitar, which he hadn't played since I had been born.

“To never forget there´s always a new song to learn, but, that you have to remember that if you can't play the guitar there's always other instruments to make music" I related to the girls my dad speech and chuckled, I had been distracted by his skill and the shiny black guitar that I hadn't understood the full meaning of his word but they had always stayed in my mind.

"You make beautiful music, tesoro, with everything you touch" Mari touched my arm and smiled her easy smile

"Thank you -I smiled back- I got my first guitar that day and I decided I was going to be good at that –I shook my head- My dad and I practiced every weekend and every night he could come home early, in a while I was able to play the complicated song that wasn’t really complicated at all” I said

"Do you still have it?" Nichole asked in her quiet voice, it surprised me that she showed interest more than with only her eyes on me

"Yeah, it's in the basement in my parent's house" I replied

"Did you go back to school" Marissa asked me “Did it get better?”

"I went back for a while. But I didn't finish that year, I mean, I did finish it just differently, I was home schooled for a few years after that" I explained when Mari widened her eyes and Nichole stiffened "different instruments -I shrugged- but that's where I got my love for music and my liking of this one” I started to play the chords accompanied by some whistling like in the song

                “….take it slow

It'll work itself out fine

All we need is just a little patience

Said, sugar, make it slow

And we´ll come together fine

All we need is just a little patience…” To my surprise they both joined me on that portion of the song and whenever they knew the lyrics.

"Great as always!" Mari clapped her hands once I stopped singing

"It was a nice story -Nichole said with a small smile, not the one I knew was her real one but it didn't seem a rehearsed one either but I couldn’t tell because it quickly became a smirk- stubborn, I mean, persistent you was born there"

"Nini!" Mari pushed Nic away

"It's a compliment, carina" there was humor in her voice, I shook my head and rolled my eyes.

"You remind me of Aaron -I told her- he can't stay mature for too long and you can't stay nice" I narrowed my eyes for effect but I knew she was afraid of letting even a glimpse of nice feelings coming from her, I felt like I had known her enough to be sure or maybe it was just the memory of our friendship in the past that didn’t let me stay mad at her

"I'm a monster" she winked in both Mari and my direction

"Uuh! -Mari laughed- I don’t think so, I think you found your match, Nini."

"No one bits me at that"

"It's been two times already" Mari said in a sing song voice, I chuckled, when had Nic been teased before?

"Josh's too nice to put in my place" she laughed quietly as she look at the scenery in front of us

"My instruments are others. My strategy instead is deeper and simpler" I winked after quoting a verse of a poem that had come to mind out of the blue, one that she´d shown me. I didn't have many memories of the time after my accident but I did have many of my teenager years. I had first heard that poem on a day after one of our Art club meetings in which as usual she and I had stayed behind. Maybe because I had let my mind take me back to my memories, it automatically too me back to this one too and I felt in the spacious room filled with easels and musical instruments

 "Are you going to stay here?" I had asked, she hadn't made an attempt to go but had kept working on her canvas

"Yeah" it was when she replied my questions, the easy ones at least

"Ok –my memory showed me I had motioned to go and had turned back- did you do the homework about the poem already?" we’d been studying poetry, metric and famous poets; it was our assignment to emulate them.

"Nope" her eyes had stayed on the canvas in front of her. I made a face

"I hate this assignment" I had groaned

"Don't do it then"

"Right, 'cause that's an option"

"It is"

"But you'll do it, won't you?" I had been sure she’d do it, as she always did.

"That doesn't matter, I don't hate the assignment but I won't do it if I don’t feel like it" she had shrugged a little

"I don't believe that, you never fail to do your homework"

"I feel like doing it" she'd taken a diff paintbrush

"That's the same thing" I had rolled my eyes, given up on standing and sat on the stool I had been using. I had been procrastinating.

"Nope, it’s a different tactic and strategy. My tactic is to be honest… My strategy instead is deeper and simpler…”

"Eh? You lost me there…" I had furrowed my eyebrows. She fought a smile

"That's a poem that just popped into my head; it's on the news board in the classroom"

"And you've memorized it?" I had chuckled, only Nichole Cristales would´ve done such thing "what else does it say?" I had thought she wouldn't tell me but after dipping her brush on pain and not making a stroke on the canvas, she had turned on her stool to face me and spoke the lines of the poem in her soft calm voice as she balanced the paintbrush between her gloved fingers, a drop of paint threatened to fall to the floor but she moved her wrist so that it wouldn't fall but that made the turquoise paint get too close to her burgundy gloves that matched our uniform.

“My tactic is to stay in your memory,

I don't know how

Nor with what pretext

But stay within you…” as she had recited she´d played with the drop of paint and I had seen rhythm in the movement and had heard music in the golden light entering the room through the windows. I had felt a beat in the poem like it had a heart.

“My tactic is to be honest

And know you are too

And that we don't sell each other illusions

So that between us there is no curtain or abyss

My strategy instead is

Deeper and simpler.

My strategy is that some day

I don't know how,

nor with what pretext

That finally you need me”  I had picked my guitar and played an improvised melody for the words she had spoken, had made a sign so that she said it again as I perfected the sounds, and when it ended and I wrapped up the melody, the drop of paint had fallen to the floor

"You write poetry all the time, play it..." the Nichole in my memory had nodded towards my guitar

"It's not the same, I don't go for numbers, measures, metric, whatever and… I don’t t always work with rhymes, my rhymes are not...they don't follow numbers, they're not… stiff" I furrowed my eyebrows

"You just made poetry; followed the metric. Different strategy" she had winked and turned back to her canvas. I hadn’t had an instant epiphany with an amazing and perfect poem but the next class I had sung my poem. My teacher had loved my creativity and strategy. By the end of that day I had printed and pasted the poem on the inside of my binder. It had reminded of the time dad had taught me the song Patience.

A memory can be relived in the blink of an eye, such was the case with this memory, no time had passed yet I had gone back to the past but in reality I had just quoted the verse of the poem and Nic had just looked away after looking into my eyes for a second too long. Mari was laughing oblivious that such line had taken me back in time.

"Ah, ragazza, he’s got you" Mari giggled and hugged me with one arm

"Funny" Nic said in her usual monotone

"I agree –Marissa teased as I laughed quietly- , this will be my new best memory" she poked her tongue out at Nic

"And the old one is...?" Nic prompted

 “Mmmm… well…after Josh´s beautiful, inspirational story, mine sounds kinda selfish…” Marissa wrinkled her nose

“It´s subjective, if it makes you happy, it´s happy” I winked; Marissa narrowed her eyes a little and a smile tugged at Nichole´s mouth

“Nini, you go first –Mari said- and don’t say no!” she pointed a finger to Nic who rolled her eyes but gave up with a dramatic sigh, dramatic for her.

“It´s not inspirational either –Nichole started- but one of the better times I´ve had was when Mike, my arts teacher, took one of my paintings to the teacher’s meeting. They chose among other art works made by students to be placed in one of the library halls. I was –she closed her eyes- happy when mine was chosen” her half smile showed in her face

“Which one?” I asked. I knew that by the time she left Burgeoys there were a few of her paintings in not only one of the school libraries

“Your teachers hung your work on the library? That’s so cute!” Marissa smiled

“More than cute, carina, it was a big honor to have one of your works next to a Monet or Kandinsky. It´s something that hasn’t happened again”

“Was this school a museum too?” Marissa raised both eyebrows and looked at both of us

“They had famous art works in the libraries and the art building” Nichole explained

“And the office buildings” I added. Mari shook her head

“An eye of my face wouldn’t have been enough to pay a month of education at your rich kids school, I bet –Mari said- but Nini, it´s so cool that you were good even back then” she smiled at the other girl

“It was Ash´s portrait on the road, the one that got chosen” Nichole chose to answer my question. I nodded my acknowledgement; Nichole and Aaron had ‘met’ under that portrait, under that one he´d broken his nose after tripping on her leg

“Ash? Who´s Ash?” Marissa looked between me and Nic

“Ashley, a friend –Nic said- now, talk” she smirked. I chuckled, I knew it was not a lie but I was sure she´d said the guy´s name to avoid saying who he was

“I guess this will be fine… it´s similar to yours –Mari nodded to Nic- my happiest one is from when I was 17, I had just left home and had no idea what to do with my life, I had nowhere to go, no one to go to –she shrugged- On a park, where me met –she looked at Nic- I made my first cartoon and I got my first client, after about a week of being there –she chuckled- I had been homeless for a week. Guess who was my first client? It was Anton –she didn’t wait for us to give an answer- he bought my first cartoon, took me to his house, scolded me for leaving home but didn’t send me back. He bought me pencils, paint, paper and an easel and above all he hung my cartoon of him in his living room. My brother supported me, he believed in me or at least he tried –she giggled- that´s the happy part, by the way” she finished smiling to the floor

“It´s a good story” I stroked her back

“The beginning of a dream” Nichole winked

“Yeah, look where you´re now” I hugged her and she beamed

“Look where we all are” Marissa chuckled and kissed my cheek


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links:
Tactics and Strategy by Mario Benedetti  
Guns N' Roses Patience

Infinity

A few days ago I found a piece of plasterboard in the garage and I thought it´d be good to paint something on it. Yesterday and today I´ve felt I needed paint to feel better. My mother enjoys watching design/DIY shows and there is one where this artist sort of teaches techniques to paint, I never see them unless it sounds interesting...I saw one yesterday, and said I´d try it but I ended up doing my own thing haha didn’t follow the technique they showed instead I decided to go by feeling which is what I always do when it comes to artsy stuff and that painting happened. I don’t know if it´s good, I never know if what I create is good.

It makes me happy when my family like the artsy things that I do, specially when it comes to drawing and painting and I always know when they like them for real (they always say it´s good but I know sometimes they don’t think so) I know that they actually like my drawings/paintings when they hang them on the wall or place them on the tables in the living room/dining room... Still with this, sometimes I don’t know if it´s good, they´re my family after all, they are supposed to support me haha. It also makes me happy to share my whimsy creations with my friend Saku (I was just thinking this morning that though we´re so very far geographically I feel like she´s one of the closest friends I have) I like her little comments and I kinda think that she´s just like my family, a little -a lot- biased towards my stuff just because they know me.

This friend I´m talking about has this amazing story. In it there is this boy, an awesome boy, he´s like my Mr.Darcy of the non-published stories hahaha sometimes I think that if I could meet only one of them I´d die of frustration because I wouldn’t know which one to choose haha In the story, this boy, Dominic is like the embodiment of confidence and deep thinking, the first he shows, no, it oozes from him, it´s impossible not to notice it; the latter though, he seem to keep to himself most of the times, he seems to share it with his girlfriend, the sweetheart Michaela, I think what he shares more is his confidence and since it oozes from him haha she´s kinda absorbing it for herself which is great since she really needs it. I think all of this has to do with that picture above these paragraphs since, both my dear friend and the hottie have given me one of those things I consider a gift. Words.

Saku, my friend, said this character is interested in abstract art...this is what he said about mine:

"What do you see?" I asked Dominic as we stood in front of the painting.

"It... It looks like stars. Not shooting stars but like the wind is pushing them. Does that make sense?" He narrowed his gaze and glanced my way.

"I can see that, I think." I caressed my chin with my fingertips. "Tell me more." I grinned at him.

"It's strange because the wind is pushing the stars towards space but the wind itself is spinning towards a different infinity."

"Infinity?" My eyes widened. "I want to know about that infinity." I stroked his arm. He chuckled and took a wide step away from the artwork and me.

He truly is the embodiment of confidence, it´s reached even me, now with that.

This is what my friend said about abstract art, I like it; she has a better opinion of it than me (haha)

"It could be seen as easy but it's mysterious and that's what makes people flock to it I think, that they could be right and anyone can guess anything."

There is nothing like hugs made words. Thank you Saku, thank you Dom and thank you Mike too ;)

The Wolf and the Moon

There was a time when the moon could walk on earth in the shape of a beautiful woman. But she could only be among human with a condition: as a woman, no man shall touch her . If that were to happen, both -the moon and the men- will die. She kept the condition as a bow, as a promise.

Once, the moon was walking around when she heard the most beatifull song her ear had ever heard. The song came from a singing at the sky, aimless. He was singing like she was not there. The moon knew she could not get closer. Every day the moon came and heard the same song and see the same man. Once, dragged deep into the man´s song, the moon got spotted by him. She ran away.

Aware of his new friend, the man sang louder just to be heard. Every day, both the man and the moon enjoyed each other without even looking their faces, without even talking.  The man singing and the moon’s presence was all they could have.

On a  rainy day, as always, the moon waited for the man, hidden in the same spot, but he never came. The moon worried. She realized his mortal heart was not like hers. She had fallen in love. The next day,  she waited, but the man never came.

The moon had nothing of her beloved man but the the memory of his song. She made up her mind and decided to travel looking for the one that owned her heart. She traveled singing the  song at the plaza of every town she went in, hoping the man would hear it. Every time: singing, hoping, praying to be heard by the man she loved. Her faith was running out, her hope was perishing. The man would not appear anymore, she had to give up.

In her way back, the moon decided to visit the place where she found love. “I was waiting for you " said the man sat on the same place they met "this time I want to hear you" continued the man. Like there was no tomorrow, the moon sang. Singing just for him. Then they talked like old friends until the sunrise ... There was something wrong, love blinded the moon and for that at sunrise the moon and the men would die. 

What could be done? That was a forbidden love. The moon refused to leave the man. Filled with anger, she escaped with the man. The sun was given the order to track them down. They avoided the sun as far as they could, but one day the sun caught the moon. At that very same moment, the moon and the man made a promise: the man should sing every night to his beloved moon and the moon will dance at his song. The moon sacrificed her immortal body to turn the man into a Wolf. Her soul escaped to the sky.

Until this day, the sun keeps chasing the moon and every night the man sings at his beloved moon while she dances changing her shape. The sun will never catch the moon. The love of the moon and the man will never perish.

Written by: J.U (Pandaboy)

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A/N: It seems that lately I´ve been publishing old, finished stuff, this one came to my mind.

I can be very -more so than usually- when I´m bored and five or maybe six years ago when this story was written, I use to bug whoever I was chatting with to "tell me an interesting story" this one was given to me one of those times by some guy... I liked it. I had to stalk a friend´s FB page to find his name, he was never really my friend but I guess we could´ve been, he told good stories. Five or six years ago I asked him if I could publish this story here, he said I could so I´m finally doing it. I wonder if I should let him know... though I´m leaning for not doing so since when we last spoke we ended in less than friendly terms... Also I just wrote the first letter of his name and last name since I´m not sure if he would´ve wanted his name all over the internet but I don´t mind writing the nickname I used for him hahaha

Letter

Alexander:

I hope everything is well. I hope you've found this letter.

When I first woke up – when I was born, I guess – I was living your life. I had all your friends and your family, and Trevor. I'm afraid to say I've lost most of those friends, but I haven't lost the others. I think I've done well with Trevor. I hope you can keep him. He's a treasure.

I'll miss him a lot. I wonder if I'll be dead when I'm gone from your body… it could be. I'll miss Trevor the most. Does he miss me? Maybe you can't answer, but I had to ask.

So, anyway, at first I didn't know how lucky I was. I thought it was perfectly normal to be born into someone else's life. When I really grasped how strange my life had been, it changed me. Before then, I didn't really care who you were. Like… the previous tenant in a house. It doesn't really matter who they were. Once I understood though, I couldn't just sit still. It fascinated me, that someone could just go away like that, and be replaced.

So I started to think a lot about you, about who you were, about what you were like. I asked your parents a lot of questions! Talk to them about it, they'll laugh. It kind of obsessed me – it still does.

Lately I've been getting these strange spots in my vision, flashes of things, temporary feelings in parts of my body. I can't be sure, but I think this means you're coming back. That I'm going away, and you're coming back. It terrified me. It still terrifies me.

I mean, think. Before that, I had no way of knowing if I was going to grow old and see your parents (can I call them ours?) die peacefully, maybe make a family with Trevor, or someone like him (a boy has a right to shop around.) I thought maybe this is permanent. Well, I don't think so now. It's been getting more frequent, more powerful, these flashes and pins and needles and everything.

I'm dying, then. It's not a painful way to go. It disturbs me, but I can live with it for now. Because… because this is what I was meant for. To take your place for a while. To breathe your breath for a while. To hold your hands for you – I was meant for it all.

I think I love you. I don't know you, but I know about you. I know you were good enough for Mom and Dad (it's what I call them, sorry if it's weird for you); good enough for Trevor. I just want you to be happy and okay.

So that's it. Be safe. Say hi to everyone for me…

Sincerely,

Chaplain

This was a letter I found in one of my readings, I thought it was very interesting, moving. It probably doesn´t make much sense on its own but I felt like I had to have it in a way, ofc, all the credit goes to the writer of the story which is why I´m also posting the link below. I think the story was very interesting and the idea behind it was new, perhaps it´s been done but I feel that this one is done in a simple, nice way.

Story: I was meant to hold you

Bienvenida -Mario Benedetti

Se me ocurre que vas a llegar distinta 
no exactamente más linda
ni más fuerte
ni más dócil
ni más cauta
tan solo que vas a llegar distinta
como si esta temporada de no verme
te hubiera sorprendido a vos también
quizá porque sabes
cómo te pienso y te enumero

después de todo la nostalgia existe
aunque no lloremos en los andenes fantasmales
ni sobre las almohadas de candor
ni bajo el cielo opaco

yo nostalgio
tu nostalgias
y cómo me revienta que él nostalgie

tu rostro es la vanguardia
tal vez llega primero
porque lo pinto en las paredes
con trazos invisibles y seguros

no olvides que tu rostro
me mira como pueblo
sonríe y rabia y canta
como pueblo
y eso te da una lumbre
inapagable
ahora no tengo dudas
vas a llegar distinta y con señales
con nuevas
con hondura
con franqueza

sé que voy a quererte sin preguntas
sé que vas a quererme sin respuestas.

¿y si Dios fuera mujer? por Mario Benedetti

¿Y si Dios fuera mujer? 

pregunta Juan sin inmutarse, 

vaya, vaya si Dios fuera mujer 

es posible que agnósticos y ateos 

no dijéramos no con la cabeza 

y dijéramos sí con las entrañas. 

Tal vez nos acercáramos a su divina desnudez 

para besar sus pies no de bronce, 

su pubis no de piedra, 

sus pechos no de mármol, 

sus labios no de yeso. 

Si Dios fuera mujer la abrazaríamos 

para arrancarla de su lontananza 

y no habría que jurar 

hasta que la muerte nos separe 

ya que sería inmortal por antonomasia 

y en vez de transmitirnos SIDA o pánico 

nos contagiaría su inmortalidad. 

Si Dios fuera mujer no se instalaría 

lejana en el reino de los cielos, 

sino que nos aguardaría en el zaguán del infierno, 

con sus brazos no cerrados, 

su rosa no de plástico 

y su amor no de ángeles. 

Ay Dios mío, Dios mío 

si hasta siempre y desde siempre 

fueras una mujer 

qué lindo escándalo sería, 

qué venturosa, espléndida, imposible, 

prodigiosa blasfemia.

Neutrality

This is an essay made by a friend of mine. It´s for a class he has and is based in some sort of handouts. I think it´s pretty interesting, mainly because I had never really thought of this until last night that I read this and it made me think of a few things. Mainly on how sometimes we all just stay quiet to not  get in trouble or to not support one or the other but... is that the best? I´ve been thinking of a few situations in which maybe it´s not so good to just stay quiet.

What´s interesting, as well, is that the author of this essay says he doesn´t completely agree with what´s in it and I find that, in a way, to be a good thing because the examples are pretty powerful and convincing, so I think he did pretty good.

It was thought provocking, so I´m posting it. -also because I can, ha!

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Neutrality by Matt D.

Neutrality, the basis of being neutral towards conflict or decision. What is neutrality and what does it mean to you? When we compare neutrality to equality, both terms seem to collide with one another. You cant be neutral and also solidify equality because it would mean “ignoring personal context” of each individual which defeats the purpose of equality. In order for neutrality to be seen as a positive than a negative, the decision will have to justify the ending result.

Leaders who have power, often hinder the public’s decision by manipulating them with lies. There capable of anticipating what people want to hear and deliver the message in a way that it makes sense to the common citizen. Society is “dominated by their immediate desires” often too ignorant to look beyond the obvious truth. Those who comprehend what's happening are purposely keeping quiet. To them, neutrality is a motto, but fail to see that “..neutrality is nothing more than official indifference. Indifference always benefits the aggressor, never the victim.”

When Hitler came to power, he spread antisemitism all across Germany, in means to genocide the Jewish population, along with a few other minority groups. Switzerland vigorously enriched their pockets with money, using the simple term “Neutrality” as their excuse to blockade Jewish from shelter and reinforcing Hitlers troops. Spain, Brazil, Turkey, Portugal and a few other countries used the same excuse, allowing the cremation, torture and dehumanization of millions of people.

In the book “Night By Elie Wiesel” the author describes the amusement of the common Germans when they throw pieces of bread into the wagon there traveling on as the devastated Jews would brawl to the death for a piece of bread. All turned a blind eye on the perversion of the Nazi party. Engulfed by the lies fed to them by Hitler, Germans view Jewish as filth, some of them stand up for the Jews but met their graves sooner than planned. Neutrality and submission became a must in order to survive during World war II. In conclusion, neutrality is driven by fear, when people are capable to stay neutral to abhorrent man made calamities, neutrality becomes nothing but a cowardly decision.

Amazing

This is you writing :p

November´s been a great month reading-wise.
Today that is the last day of November, I want to celebrate my favorite current reading, LTMT, getting an extra 50,000+ words!

Yay! I feel happy that my friend got to make the challenge, I know it wasn´t easy, but she made it and she made it beautifully, she´s shown -even more- how creative and talented she is -and also that she sticks to her words like the main characters in the story.

I´m amazed, I´m proud -and I´m smiling.

Saku, thank you for letting me be part of this story -as your reader and your n°1blogger stalker lol
As I´m posting this, less than 100 words are missing, my friend will be completing the challenge and making more words. I knew you could make it! Congrats again! --please make another month writing moth!! hehe

Through time

They slipped through time, the years, the seasons, together, always together, seamlessly, hand in hand. Time was of no importance, because it would always be spent in the company of the other, which was all that counted. Days were indistinguishable from the others, but each moment was treasured and remembered and held sacred and close to the heart. No action, however small, was insignificant. They never seven noticed when or if they died, so strong was their bond, their souls willingly locked and chained together by the want, the need, to continue to be beside each other until all collapsed and the world itself crumbled beneath their feet.  


by megii


*****
While reading, a while ago, I found this, I think it´s beautiful and amazing how the author make time not to matter at all, as if the character´s been living in some kind of suspended time that eventually lead to eternity. 

I´ll Be

i'll be it
i'll be the cloth to dry your tears
i'll be that extra cherry on your cupcake
i'll be the bonus track on a new cd
i'll be the unexpected letter on a rainy day
i'll be your safety pin for your torn heart
i'll be the baby's breath in your red rose bouquet
i'll be the anonymous love letter
i'll be the first snowflake, falling into your palm
i'll be the blemished pearl that makes the string unique
i'll be the phone call from a long-forgotten friend
i'll be your cup of warm cocoa on a slushy day
i'll be the last daisy in an autumn chill
i'll be the melody you strain to hear.
i'll be your everything,
i'll do anything,
if you let me

by: missmichellini

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I found this poem by casualty, I never read poetry from fictionpress authors but I am glad I read that one. 

Frozen Cherry Trees

I´ve waited almost over a year to know the ending of this story. I must say I love it and the open ending -that I never really expected- makes it perfect, I think. This one I owe to one of my friends that happily -for me- has decided to finish this little story. I could make such a huge comment on this now but I´ll just say that everytime I read it -which to be honest have been lots of time- it provokes different thoughts. I like it at lot. Thanks for letting me share this one G! 

here it is:

******************

It was a snowy afternoon. I was coming back from school; well I was there but my mind somewhere else. Snowflakes were falling through the frozen cherry trees. I did not know why but I felt strange that afternoon, kind of distressed for all that was going on. Lost in thought I was, when suddenly the mirage of a scream echoed my ears...

Not a chance to think! I just noticed I was running through the woods looking for a sob that seemed to be closer and closer. I was cold, my mind in blank and my skin cried those scarlet tears as I dashed inside the crystallized branches. I fell down while stepping the roots again and again...but my will did not abandon me. I was as stubborn as ever. After minutes of anxiety...There she was...

Crying and injured, mostly lost. She just saw me abruptly stopping her crying and clang into me sobbing with relief as if an angel had come to the rescue. More snow crystals falling and a cool breeze allowed her dark long hair to tickle my cheek... Then I took her face with my hand, gently caressing it and looked into those deep blue eyes... Then time stopped. We just stood there for so long... looking at each other as if we were telling our lives. It did not matter how cold it was, how strong the wind was blowing. We stood like that until the down warned us it was time to return. All the way back, she did not let my hand go and I was not willing to let her go either. The lights on the street announced our arrival to the real world and just a few steps from it I heard her sweet but determined voice: Tomorrow under the frozen cherries...I’ll be waiting for you...Really! And she left. I just could not believe what just happened and stood there watching her back until the only light for my eyes were the street footlights.

On my way back home, my feelings were mixed. I felt as if all types of feelings had just shot my soul turning it into pieces. Yes, I was puzzled and scared but in some way happy. Now I had something to avoid reality.

I arrived home: same story, same dinner, and same furniture... the broken cup just as I left it. I still don’t get why I don’t accept the present me, I´m always having stupid hopes that something is going to be different. That someone is waiting for me.  This is another night in my solitude. But something has changed inside of me. In some way I don’t feel so lonely. I can feel this warmth in those touched spots of my skin. My head still freezes with those delicate fingers playing with my hair. And that voice so sweet, so overwhelming, And what about those eyes...so deep so charming, enhancing such a beautiful pale skin.  The face of an angel...

Got to stop fantasizing! Lost in my so called thoughts, the old door is knocked...

I open up with a cold attitude. My ice is melted by the wings of my daydreaming.

There she was...standing in the frozen air of the night...

My eyes could not believe it, the fact that someone was actually visiting.

In the middle of my mental gap, her trembling lips asked:

-May I come in? It’s...cold.

Again, my physical reaction is faster than my brain cells coordination. I wish it were the opposite.

I just provide enough space for her to come in. And as soon as I close the door, she clings onto me again, kisses my cheek and says: I have missed you.

Lots of thoughts are running all over my head. I give her a hug too, puzzled as a Chinese in the middle of Manhattan. After a few seconds, I ask the supposed question with a hesitant and low voice:

-Why?...no I mean... How? How can you miss me if we have just seen each other once?

Falling apart, I add with a logical and serious expression: -I don’t even know your name!

Showing brightness I’ve never seen before in her eyes, she just sits in the old coach and starts to drink my halfway tea... My face is hot and I just blush for the first time in my life having a premonition that this won’t be the last time. After four sips of my, well now her tea and cleaning her lips with a pleasant tongue, she replies: -Because...I am like you.

That’s it! She did it. She’s making my nerves boil. I know my forehead’s like fire but still I shout:

-How on earth are you going to appear in the middle of the night and say something like “because I’m like you” to avoid the question of the owner of this warehouse?!    

Yes, that was how my so called home looked like: licks over here and there, old notebooks on the floor, a high school  uniform insisting to dry in the middle of the half-living room half-bedroom, and, of course, an angel drinking tea on the coach making fun of me.

She seems to be a little bit angry, as if I was doubting about her words. In fact...I am; but avoiding my “unnecessary words” she stands up, goes towards my futon, gets in and says:

-Aren’t you going to sleep tonight? We have to go to school tomorrow. It’s cold so come here. 

     Again she breaks up my shield. I don’t know why but just do as she says and giving her my back I quietly close my eyes and try to sleep. Then, I noticed some movement. She’s moving towards my back and hugs me. Softly pronounces those words that I will never forget:

-Don’t forget about our meeting tomorrow. I need you but if you want me to leave you alone...just say it tomorrow. For now, let me stay in this warmth.

Such a begging voice that I could not refuse. We slept like a baby with its teddy bear, the first time in so long that I slept for real. 

The sunshine drains through the minuscule window of my warehouse, my eyes hurt as the light makes me blink again and again. On my almost awake state, I noticed that sweet but still caressing fragrance nurturing the room which makes me remember the jolt of the other day. I stand up. There’s no clue about my angel only her scent - wait a minute- “My angel?” What the hell am I saying?...

Another day just like the hundreds of days I’ve been living so far: a regular student but an exceptional athlete, hated by almost everybody, admired by some weird yet cute minority. But not loved.  As the classes finished and the sports practice started my mind was into those deep blue eyes. Though, my reflexes were as accurate as always. Everything went fine. The coach and teammates congratulated me. I just answered with a fake smile.

The hours finally passed and it was time for our encounter.

This time I would memorize by heart how to get to our spot. As I step in, I can notice every tree, branch and stones I hurt myself on that snowy afternoon... My big and elegant entrance was made with the silly phrase: -So, what business do you have here?

Not a word.

Not a human being.

Nothing.

I knew it. This was a bad joke that some of my enemies would have planned to make fun of me. As if I hadn’t have enough misery in my life.

I just sat down, muttering heavy vocabulary against those who thought it was a funny idea.

However, the scent I had memorized since last night flooded the frozen cherry trees path.

She was there.

My puzzled me had turned my damnation into a feeling of relief. Phew! I was not daydreaming again. Immediately I realized she was true.

With an agitated voice she says: -I could make it! You’re here.

Every time she opens those beautiful pink lips I can’t understand.

Does her words implied “I’m  happy you are here” or “It was so hard to get here” or “ I’ve forgot about you, sorry.” or “I thought you wouldn’t trust in me...poor little thing.”    

None of my thoughts were true. The only who knew it:  her.

My slow mind motion was interrupted by that body warmth I’ve been longing for all this time,

again, her skin, her hair, her eyes, her touch. But this time I needed to know her name. So I step a little back from our hug and asked, as my prince- manner like could do: 

-Please, say your name.

She just saw my begging face with such a kindness, a kindness meant for a mother with her children. She replied:

 -My name is the name you have given me.

I don’t know yours. How am I supposed to answer to you, stranger?

I can’t breathe, my heart feels like a thousand needles passing through it. I kneel down. Suffering without a word to say and unable to move. I collapse.

A cold wind freezes my motionless body. My face doesn’t show any emotion. Those words digging a tomb for me. I can’t stand it. This person, who was able to make me smile again, was also able to kill my soul... I stood there in my graveyard, longing it was a nightmare... Wishing nothing had happened. Wishing a soccer ball had crashed on my head.  I promised myself I wouldn’t open my eyes. I want to end the story lying on the ground, as if I was a hero hurt in battle...

In spite of my resolutions, thunderbolt and lightning travels from my neck through the last of my toes, a timid yet vivid kiss in my frozen neck, a touch that floods my humanity with a blow of life. She had my head trapped in her arms, a ticklish feeling of her hair in my forehead. By then, I had realized I didn’t care the pain as long as I could feel that replenish sensation of being important for someone else.         

Eternity... If I were to die, I wish I did here, down the frozen cherry trees...

…after a while of being in heaven.

Gabrielle, can we go home?

NO, we are home. 


A/N: This a story that reflects how sometimes we need a piece of sunlight to melt the ice in our lives. It´s just I can´t stop writing like this... Sorry.

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