Dreaming of a White Christmas

     I'm sitting outside on my grandfather's balcony, all the windows are open leading to the inside, and it's December.  The breeze is amazing, the weather is perfect, and I'm freaking out a little bit.  The only other time I've been here over Christmas was at least 8 years ago and I was ungrateful and pissed off the entire time.  This time it was my idea to come here, I know it makes my parents happy to come home and growing up makes me miss this place more and more so it's the least I could do to suck up my aversion to leaving Maryland for any length of time.
     There's something about the idea that it's going to be in the 80 degrees on Christmas that makes me cringe a little bit.  Don't get me wrong, this is such a nice break from the freezing temperatures back at home, but there are no songs about a blistering hot Christmas.  Sleigh rides through the snow, walking in winter wonderlands, dreaming of white Christmases, that doesn't exist here.  It was the absolute weirdest thing picking out a dress for Christmas Mass and not thinking about warmth...I picked a summer dress.
     That being said, I love it here.  The atmosphere, the family, the language is all completely intoxicating.  Being out on the balcony I can hear the perfect mix of the occasional car rushing by, my brother playing guitar, the thrilling conversation at the table, all wrapped in this unexplainable calm.  Things are good here; everyone's happy.  I've been coming here since I was three weeks old but I just recently started appreciating it.  The truth is, even though I'm scared to admit it to myself half the time, sometimes I think I wouldn't mind living here for a while.  I don't regret at all not moving in 5th grade like we were supposed to, my life is something I wouldn't change at all, but my life wouldn't be that bad (except for never having the slightest chance of a white Christmas and having the holiday over my summer break, that would suck).
     Sometimes I think it might have been better for me...

5 Years Gone in The Blink of an Eye

     Sorry if this is getting repetitive, it'll stop after this.

     It was November 13, 2006, a little before 6pm.  I was on my way to my basketball practice at Oakland Terrace; I was running late.  As soon as my mom and I turned onto Strathmore it became clear that we were going to be way later than originally anticipated.  There was a traffic jam on that road caused by an accident, all I remember thinking was how mad coach was going to be at me.  The actual practice has long-since escaped my memory.  I was happy to see that on the way home the traffic was all gone, I made it back in record time.
Next Scene:
     I was downstairs playing Neopets, and then my brother comes to the top of the stairs.  Our conversation went exactly, not somewhat, like this:
"Do you know what happened tonight"
"What happened where?"
"The accident"
"What happened?"
"Luke died"
...

     And that was it. The rest is one huge blur. Five years ago today someone older than my died.  Today, a 12 year old boy died five years ago; I am four years older than he will ever be.  I don't get to say this out loud a lot, maybe once a year, but I miss Luke Carter-Schelp and that is one day that I will never forget.

It's a love-hate type of thing.

     I know everyone always says that you should tell your friend if someone their dating is totally obnoxious and what not, but is that really necessary? Here's what I think:
You don't have to like every person your friend goes out with, but you should like what they do to the friend.  Each person has individual quirks, pet peeves, and obsessions; it's natural.  So just because your likes and dislikes don't match up perfectly with those of your best friend, that's not an excuse to bring them down every chance you get.
      My best friend in the whole world is currently in a relationship with this guy who she met at a dance.  Now I have personally gone back and forth on this relationship more times than a ping pong ball during a really intense game.  He's not my favorite person in the world and I have never really refrained from making my feelings known (in my defense I think she deserves something along the lines of perfection); until now that is.  While thinking about the things that make me dislike him I realized this: he isn't forced to like me just like I'm not forced to like him, all we're required to do is like my friend.  When I took a step back I thought about how happy he makes her (most of the time) and what a good person she has become because of all the things she has learned while dating him.  That's when it hit me that I do approve of him as her boyfriend, I may never want to be friends with him, but I do approve.
     It's weird the way friendship works, you define the standards for someone else's happiness.  When you meet someone who has changed your life, all you want is the best for them; you have to realize however, that your best and their best are two totally different things.  Ultimately, as long as they're happy in the moment with how things are, you should be grateful to whatever makes them this way.  That's how I am.  I am grateful that my friend is happy and I am grateful the he makes her so.  I'm grateful that she met him and I'm grateful that she has thus far ignored all the rude things I have said.  All in all, whether I can stand him or not, I am grateful for him, and that's all that matters.

Fact: Halloween is my favorite Holiday.

     If I could go back in life there aren't many things I would change, but I would change this.
It was five years ago to the day, almost to the hour even.  We had just finished trick-or-treating in my neighborhood so my brother's friends decided it would be fun to go to Garrett Park to score some more candy.  To be honest the actual holiday wasn't anything memorable, if it wasn't for him it wouldn't even be worth remembering, but alas, it is.  We started walking away from this one house when we bump into them; Andres and his friends recognized them right away but I only knew one of them.
     ...The sad part about this whole story is that the next part, what this story leads up to, has got to be the most anticlimactic ever...
     Anyways, so he (the only one I recognize) literally bumps into me, and that's when it happens.  He turns to me and says "Who the hell are you?" and all I can mutter is "I'm the sister".  That's what I said to him. That's all I said to him.  That's the last thing I ever said to him. And that's the end to my story.
     To this day I can't help but wonder if up in Heaven he knows who I am.  It's the worst feeling in the world to think that someone that has impacted your life so much doesn't even know who you are, doesn't even know your name, doesn't even care.  I want so badly for him to know that my name is Camila and that I knew who he was.
     That's probably my biggest regret in my life so far.  And that, my friends, is one of the reasons why Halloween will always and forever be my favorite holiday.

Can You Feel It?

     Can you feel it? In the air? Can you?  That, my friend, is fall.  More than just fall, that right there is Halloween in the air!  The time when all the leaves are changing and are strewn across the ground randomly, but all the while they look like they belong there? Yeah that's it.  The calm breeze slightly rustling everything around it, but it's never too cold.  The start of Hot Chocolate season begins.  Girls stop being able to dress like sluts because the weather makes them cover up a bit more, so life stops becoming such a beauty contest.  It's the time for comfort and it's the time for warmth.  Fall is the perfect season, October is the perfect month, and Halloween is the perfect holiday. Fall is a time when magic is in the air and anything is possible.

Fact: Forgetting is impossible

     Every time I cross a street I go through it again.  Every time I cross a street, especially not on a cross walk, I remember my fear.  Every time I cross a street I have to tell the people I'm with that I'm scared of crossing streets; I'd never tell them why though.  Crossing a street the  other day made me remember the events of my Junior retreat.
     Most people use their retreat as a time to get to know different people and become better friends with everyone, but  I'm all for solidarity, so even though I did become friends with people, that wasn't my revelation.  Many people get all sappy and emotional once they start opening up and letting other people in. My life changing experience had nothing to  do with anyone else in my class really.
     We were handed a piece of paper and told to right our sins on it or a resolution of some kind so we could throw it into the big bonfire later, of course, me being the unique and quirky girl that I am, chose to do something different with it.  All I had on my paper were two things.  Two names that I will never in my life forget.  Two dates that always come back around no matter how much it kills me.  Two events that really changed who I am.  There it was in pink marker written across the inside of the paper:

November 13, 2006

March 11, 2011

Luke Carter-Schelp

Momma Mansilla

     Two people, two tragedies, two unforgettable moments.  I didn't write their names on the paper so I could forget them and never be sad ever again.  I wrote their names so I could once-and-for-all learn to not let my melancholy get in the way of me living my life.  I wrote it for all the pain, for all the suffering, for all the tears, for all the sleepless nights, for all the emptiness, and for all the missed opportunities that effected everyone who knew them.  Not only did I write it for all the sadness I wanted to take away, I wrote it for all the good times, the laughter, the smiles, the lessons, the memories, the love, the openness, the understanding, the compassion, the crushes, the chances taken, the good decisions, and most importantly, for all the marks left on everybody who knew them.  I wrote it down so I could thank them, and learn to let them go; not completely, just enough so that when I get to see them again, I have things to tell them besides mourning.  When I threw the paper out I promised to only think of them with happiness and joy, I promised to let the memory of them help shape me, and not be scared to show it.
     With my note, I let them know that they will always be remembered and that I have them to thank for so much.

Selfess v Pushover

     When does "too much" start becoming "too much"?  You're supposed to help people whenever possible, right? Right? I'm starting to think that that might not be the case.  In high school I have always been one of the main go-to girls whenever someone had a question or needed help with something, and I've never been one to complain about it.  I think it's great that so many people trust me enough to allow me to help them, but lately I've started to think that I'm spreading myself too thin.  Whenever somebody asks me for help I immediately put their needs as first priority; anything to make their lives easier, but what happens when their needs start getting in the way of any of the little "me" time that I have left?  Is it okay to be selfish and deny them assistance sometimes? Is that even considered being selfish?  All I know is that inside me there is a roaring debate on what I should do.  On one hand, I really do love helping people and if I start denying them help they might never come to me again.  On the other hand, I think I might go insane if this keeps up the way it is.  Sanity over high school sainthood, or high school sainthood over sanity?  I definitely don't want to become somebody that people hate; I've worked hard to make sure it's the opposite, which I guess is why there isn't an easy answer for me.  Regardless of how deprived of thinking time I am nowadays, my sense of logic is still intact, and I know what I have to do: I have to be "selfish" instead of bottling up everything and eventually exploding (trust me, that will be much worse).  I guess it's not about caring for yourself more than others, it's about caring for others so much that you wanna be the best you can be...even if that means taking a break every once in awhile.

Bored With Real Life

     So I'm the loser who watches way too much TV and takes it all way too seriously, but then again that's what TV is for, right?  It's there for you to lose yourself in, to escape the pain and stress and drama of everyday life and to live in someone else's for a bit.  It's the same idea as a book except it doesn't give you much room for imagination (which is fine).  So anyways, I was just thinking of this popular show Greek that used to be on ABC Family; it didn't get cancelled, it didn't only go on for a season or two, it went on for four years and came to end.  Well for the longest time I was convinced that Greek was one trend I could pass on; turns out I was wrong.  I came into the show a couple episodes into the final season because I decided to stay on the channel after the previous show.  I don't know why and I don't know how exactly, but within that one hour I was captivated.  The show had two months left before it all ended, I could have easily just been fine with not watching it ever again or just starting from there.  For the next three weeks, after I had watched a couple of the ongoing episodes, I spent every second of my free time on Hulu, catching up on the love triangles, the backstabbing, the quest for power, everything.  I took it as a sign that I was meant to fall in love with this show when I saw that Hulu had every single episode (which is a rare thing for the site).  Greek let me escape school and completely immerse myself into this fantasy, it let me be sad when Cappy and Casey broke up, it let me be angry when Frannie tried to outdo ZBZ, it made me long for Even and Cappy to both end up happy, but most of all, it let me forget about everything.  When a show like that comes around you should consider yourself lucky to have been a part of it; it doesn't happen every day.  So even though I'm the loser who dedicates way too much time to TV shows, I wouldn't want it any other way.

Nonstop Nostalgia

     You know, I've always been a very nostalgic person; always looking back on the good time.  Here's the thing I learned though: you only remember the good things.  Now I'm not saying that's a bad thing, it just makes looking back that much more addicting.  Today I was looking through my friendship with my good friend over facebook and I came across a fight he had with this girl, I ended up mediating the conversation (a little favoritism if I'm honest).  It was then that I realized that our friendship used to be completely free of stress; pure fun.  over the years it as become weighted with teenage angst and the tribulations faced in high school.  So today I have come to a new resolution: I'm going to go back to my roots, the good old days, the part of memories that stay with you, I am going back to being way less dramatic.  I took the first step quickly after this epiphany by calling up the friend that inspired this whole thing and talking to him like I used to; surprisingly it's easier than I though it would be!  Anyways, I guess the whole point of this post is to say that you keep mostly good memories in life, so why not make everyday worth remembering in 20 years?

Way Too Young For This.

     You know what I don't get? If you're with someone for a long time in high school, it should be great, right? Think again.  I know my fair share of long term relationships and seeing them as a third party has really put me in perspective.  Most of the relationships I see are a good 75% fighting after the first five-ish months.  The one sentence that screams at me every time one of my friends tells me about their latest fight with their significant other is this: WE'RE NOT EVEN UPPERCLASSMEN YET...WE'RE TOO YOUNG TO BE WASTING OUR TIME FIGHTING! Honestly it's just ridiculous! I don't care if the 25% of time not fighting is greater than anything you've ever experienced, I don't care if you think he's the love of your life, and I really don't care if "you're not like the other couples out there" because you're wrong.  Whether you're fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, or seventeen, fighting instead of enjoying yourself isn't worth it.  You're only young once, you're only in high school for four years, you're only a teenager for 7 years, you don't have time to waste.  Any moment spent fighting when there's an easy solution is a moment you will never get back.  The cold hard truth is almost all high school relationships don't work out and if you refuse to believe that you're part of the majority I have news for you: the divorce rate is over 50%.  Somethings aren't worth fighting for and a petty high school relationship is definitely on that list.

Fact: All Teens Have Superpowers

     So lately I've noticed something strange; teenagers (mostly girls) have super powers.  It's simple really, have you ever noticed that when you're in trouble with your parents, you're always the one to stomp out of the room in anger? Yeah, think about it. Exactly.

Myth: All Teenagers Love Driving

     Sure the idea of driving is appealing, you'd have to be insane not to want the sense of control and freedom, but it's also the scariest thing you could ever do.  Not only does the country we live in let us control a fully automotive vehicle when we're a mere 16 years old (15 in some states), they also expect us to abide by the rules and not let the newly found power get to our heads: impossible.  The truth of the matter is that driving is scary.  So many bad things happen while in a car, and to be able to kill some one with one simple mistake, the pressure is crippling.  Now don't get me wrong, I want my license ASAP and I intend on getting my own car as soon as I have the money.  even with all my friends hounding me and my parents being close to unbearable nowadays, I can't shake the fear.  In my lifetime I've known three people that have died, one by cancer and the other two by cars.  no matter the reason, no matter how safe you are as a driver, every time you get onto that road (whether it's day or night, weekday or weekend) you risk your life.  I guess ultimately I have to suck it up because in this century, not only are you a total loser if you have the chance to get your license and opt-out, you need a car to get around, ESPECIALLY if you're a teen.  Life is rough...I need a helmet (or I guess "seat belt" would be a cheesier word to use).

Old Dog, New Tricks.

     Alright so here we go.  I like writing, a lot.  I do it in my spare time and I tend to write down my inner monologue a lot.  Finally I figured, why not let others hear what i have to say? So here goes nothing.  I'm just your typical teenage girl who's awkward, weird, and doesn't know what to do with herself half the time.  So here I go, stepping way out of my comfort zone, and sharing my thoughts with the rest of the internet.  Old to writing, new to blogging.