World of our own

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PROSE

August 2012

 
 

A really, really late post of an essay I did for creative writing class last spring. This  essay allows us to be absorbed into our environment and then ponder upon how we respond to that situation. It is meant to be a self-discovery journey, and I found mine in love. Enjoy.

 
 
 
 

San Francisco, CA

He’s here for me. In the States. Right by my side.

He’s taking two weeks away from work, got so thin from working to pay off his big break, and now that the moment has come – we’re about to leave our footprints on three states in less than five days.

 
 

Las Vegas, NV

Last time I was in Vegas, I was around 8 or 9. I recall watching a sort of volcanic fountain show. I remember walking past the bright lights at night while my mom was holding my right hand, and that all she wanted was to gamble along with my dad and the other adults on our tour team. “Never trust a man who gambles,” said my mother.

It was the epitome of Funkytown, a mesmerizing place Steven Greenberg have said it right – a city keep me movin’, keeps me grooving’ with some energy. I gambled for the first time in my life. We keep taking turns as a team. Together, we made a total of about sixty bucks by playing roulette for two hours straight.

It’s a nice way to wait for the American portion of lunch to go down. In fact, we had double American portions. It was the Bellagio Buffet, for Pete’s sake, and that we haven’t had breakfast. We chow down our brunch right after checking out of The Venetian, a make-belief haven for the escapists to run away from real life. Once again, I recall the cloud murals I once saw as a kid whenever I look up.

Sixty bucks doesn’t seem much, but it paid off for two 500-km stops during our interstate road trip. We can afford a bottle of Baileys with that amount of money in Indonesia.

 
 

Grand Canyon, AZ

About 500 km later, we’ve passed the Hoover Dam and munched on Carl’s Jr chili cheese fries, all the while crossing the border between Nevada and Arizona. Our dry skins were itching fiercely from crossing the arid lands of Route 66, also called the Mother Road of America. But the greens and the rows of wind turbines, not to mention the red rocks, were picturesque.

Mother Nature must have designed Grand Canyon for the sole intention to steal our human breaths. We were only there for about six hours, and we came out of it with beautiful pictures so original they look photoshopped. We didn’t get the chance to get out of the South Rim, though we’ve seen so much just by walking on the scenic Hermit Road. One step away and you’ll see the Colorado River. Another step forward and you’ll see the mountain range in a shifted angle.

Each step you take gets better. Once you allow the views to steal your breaths, nothing else seem to matter anymore.

 
 

 
 

No wonder so many people suffocate. Most parts of the world are now confined by tall buildings and strict routines. Pitier are those who don’t even realize this reality had become their second nature.

When you immerse yourself into such huge wonder in this already gigantic world, you’re reminded that you’re only a tiny little being, so light compared to the world’s magnificence.

For me, it was a gentle nudge on my shoulder, reminding me that I have someone right by my side whom I can trust, enjoy each step forward, and to make bets with.

 
 

San Francisco, CA

He’s going back to work. I’m resuming classes again.

“Soon,” he whispered and kissed my right cheek. Now we’re worlds apart again. He walked away into the security gate, and I out of SFO.

Once I graduate, I will be there for him.

 
 
 
 

***

 
 
 
 

 
Details on the whole trip are in these posts: (Loads of pictures!)

- New update after MIA for a week…
- Brief updates after the spring break (but not yet complete)
Spring break update in pictures: Golden Gate Bridge, Sausalito, Fishermen’s Wharf & Pier 39
Spring break update in pictures: Japanese Tea Garden, Academy of Sciences, and our Twin Peaks moment
Spring break update in pictures: Vegas!
Spring break update in pictures: Grand Canyon!
Spring break update in pictures: San Diego Zoo!
Spring break update in pictures: 19-mile drive at Monterey
 

 
 
 
 

***

 
 
 
 

 
Illustration I did for our first anniversary with the same title of this essay:

Why all the pigs? Why all the other animals? All the food? Find out here. Hope it will inspire you and your love too :)

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Muchaluva,
Stace.

 

41. The difference between bitter and sweet

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VOCABULARY

Learn a new word today. Look for its definition, then write a prose with it. In a year, you’re going to pat yourself on the back having learned 101 words into your vocabulary with firm understanding.

 

 

Girth
: The measure around anything; circumference.
: a band that passes underneath a horse or other animal to hold a saddle in place, especially one having a buckle at each end for fastening to straps running from under the flaps of the saddle.
: something that encircles; a band or girdle.

 

 

 

 

 

A woman is like an apple tree. Men, whether they are conscious or not, being the human that they are, first judges her on the moment they lay eyes on her girth, rather than her birth. The judgment magnifies with the bulk of her produce: The more fruit she bears, the more attractive she is. The man chooses the woman who yields the most harvest.

But, the question is, do those apples taste as good as she looks? Or are they merely immature crops deserving more time for worldly cultivation? Do they deserve such sophistication? 

A woman must nurture her self, for it is her duty to give her man a taste of bittersweet knowledge – wisdom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Muchaluva,
Stace

How to bounce back from setbacks

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July 2012

 

How to bounce back from setbacks:

Wear shoes with huge springs. Jump.

Topic: FUN


Illustration Friday
topic of August 3, 2012: BOUNCE

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Muchaluva,
Stace

What makes you happy? I’m happiest when…

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June 2012

 

 

 

 

 

 

Water after eight hours of sleep :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Topic: HAPPY

 

 

 

 

 
Muchaluva,
Stace

Getaway

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May 2012
 
 
 
 

This is one of the short fiction practices we did for class last spring. It’s simply about a married woman who self-doubts and creates poor assumptions about her husband.

I don’t know why I keep exploring themes of marriage and trust. Nevertheless, happy reading.

 
 
Here’s where they can get out of the city, where they can hide in the rustles of the trees – distance away from the hustle and bustle, and furthest from the screeching silence between them, two bodies resting on the same bed.

Every evening it would take a long commute just for him to give a dry peck on her cheek, no hugs. She, however, would pretend it was all the same as it has been three years ago – ever since they’ve vowed their “I do”s and reminisce the feel of his lips cushioning on her cheek, and she would turn pink. They would go to rest, with her wrapped in his arms.

Now, the distant memory plays like an old movie in her head.

She got out of the bed. He even brought a suitcase to this escapade. Escape from where? She thought it was the crowded streets, the honking cars, the giant skyscrapers, and all that they’ve agreed with each other in the first place.

No, we’re not on a dry spell, she tells herself, like she does everyday. Not until she saw something blue, a tiny baby blue cotton panty sandwiched in-between his endless manila folders. She swallowed hard. Her gulp was probably ringing in his ears, as he suddenly stopped snoring.

All through the night she wept. Her body oceans apart from his arms. She watched him silently, he was breathing in and breathing out again, loud like a filthy pig. He must have drifted away into his dreams once more, must be involving the mistress of that thong.

Tree leaves tremble, she quivered. The night was cold, terribly cold.

She got away.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Muchaluva,
Stace