"The Last Letter" by Paulina J

 

Right at the beginning of the year 2020, I had to endure one of the most traumatic experiences in my entire life, thinking about it still makes my skin crawl. On a Sunday afternoon, my grandma walked into my room, falling onto her knees. She was crying, completely balling her eyes out, but I heard the pain in her voice. I was confused, in shock, and was told that my grandpa had been killed in Mexico. Hearing these words come to life was heartbreaking and filled my body with anger. Who would do that to him? How can the thought of killing my best friend even cross someone’s mind? He was my angel, he was my everything, no matter the circumstances.

I was lost, but most importantly, outraged. I felt my skin getting hot and my blood boiling, but the thing is I am not so mad at the person who killed him, but more so upset at myself for never responding to the letters he sent me while he was in prison, and for never answering the phone calls he made when he was released. I never thought that the last letter he sent would be the last one, and I never thought that I would never hear his voice again. I held a grudge with him after the age of nine, and for what? Who knows? I was upset at him for the pain he put my grandma through, and for the way he disregarded my mom’s feelings while she was growing up and trying to figure out what life was and make sense of it. I was upset that his actions led him to a prison sentence of 15 years, and that he was not there for me while I was growing up. He was selfish while he was here, but even then, what was the point in doing that?

Trying to justify my reasons for my actions does not make sense now that time has passed, and I realize that I should have let go of that anger towards him and made things right before it was too late. Experiencing this in the middle of the most important and hardest year of high school was beyond difficult. I was unfocused. I was confused. I would sit in class numb and exist in complete numbness. I did not want to talk to anyone, I hated society because of the evil people that were in it. I just wanted to say goodbye to him, but I could not even do that because if I even attended his funeral, there was a chance I would be killed too. No matter how much I tried to go, my mom told me no over and over again. My poor grandpa died alone, with no immediate family in his presence. The whole thing sucked, I needed to apologize for absolutely everything. Time passed, and as we all know, time heals everything. Eventually, I came to terms with it, and I forgave him through prayers, hoping he would be listening to me all those times. I realized that forgiving myself is just as important as forgiving him, it was better late than never.

Though this event brought lots of ache to myself and my family, I knew I had to continue to make him proud. I needed to refocus and dedicate myself to the things I knew he would want for me to be doing, which is making something big out of myself. No matter how much this event took a toll on me emotionally and mentally, I knew I had to step over the huge barrier in front of me and do something about it, so that is exactly what I did. I needed to get my act together because I knew it is what he would have wanted. I aimed to get a 4.0 GPA and ended with a 4.4. I quit the extracurricular activity that drained me emotionally. I got a new job, and I am now working at three jobs just a couple of months later. Doing all these things made me the best version of myself, I simply did what I had to do because life is way too short to live unhappy and having regrets. I miss him more than anyone can imagine, but I hope he is proud of me, and I hope he is watching over me every single day as I focus on my personal growth and happiness, for my own sake, and in honor of his memory.

New Writers to Read!

 All Students:  Be sure to read the entries for this group  (January writers).  Everyone is required to comment on at least THREE different pieces of writing.  You must post the comment here on the blog (below the post is the "comments" link to click) by Thursday, February 11, on Canvas AND the blog. 

Remember, comments must be positive, supportive, constructive, and SPECIFIC.  No "Good Job!" comments, unless you follow that with specific things you thought were done well in the piece.  Show them you actually took the time to read and enjoy their work!

"What is Success?" by Jordyn S

 

 

There are very few words, that if unsure of the meaning, you could not look up in a dictionary. Supposedly, every word ever created is in the dictionary; and if that fails Google never does. However, just because a word is there, with multiple definitions underneath, does not mean you truly know what that word means. For example, a word with a definition almost as abstract as the word itself: success. If you were to look up success in a dictionary you might see the statement “the accomplishment of an aim or purpose.” There it is, you know everything you need to know about the idea of success. And yet, if I were to ask my best friend what her idea of success is, she would say to have a steady job. If I were to ask my little brother he might say to get an A on his next math test. If I asked my parents their answer might be to provide a happy life for me and my siblings. So while the definition of success is seemingly straightforward, it really does not tell you anything about the idea itself.

 

It is impossible to know the true meaning of success, because there simply is not one. Every single person you ever interact with in your life will have a different goal, a different plan, and a different definition of success. An issue that often arises is when people think their idea of success should be everyone else’s idea of success. A fatal flaw humans have is to believe that what they want as an individual is the only thing anyone else could ever want, something that could not be more entirely untrue. You will be hard pressed to find a word that has more societal pressures surrounding it than success. We have heard it our entire lives and will continue to do so: if you do not do well in school you will not be successful, if you do nott go to college you will not go anywhere in life, if you do not start a family and settle down? Well then you may as well wave all your goals goodbye. Society always thinks it knows best, that everyone should

have the same idea of success. And if you do not hold up to society’s standards of success you will never be successful, right?

The truth is, who cares what society says or believes? Every single idea of success is different. And if your definition of it will make you happy, then you will have fulfilled your idea of success, which will always be what is most important. That being said, I propose an amendment to the definition of success. Rather than the accomplishment of an aim or purpose, the definition should read, the accomplishment of ​your​aim or ​your​purpose. With the simple addition of a word or two, the definition is no longer abstract, but a concrete idea, unique to each person who reads it.

 

“Success.” Merriam-Webster.com Dictionary, Merriam-Webster, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/success. Accessed 19 Jan. 2021.

"Am I Enough" by Sharleen N.

 

 

I never understood how a friend of 10+ years can utterly break and destroy your friendship and trust in a singular day. Sophia, who was my best friend, was practically family to me. She would always come to my house, take me to her family parties, come to dinner with my family, everything. I once went to a party with her and she introduced me to a guy named Noah. Noah and I got along and decided to exchange numbers that day. After a few good months of talking to Noah, he asked me to be his girlfriend and I happily said yes without a second thought. Our relationship at first was full of joy and trust, but after a year into the relationship it started getting mentally and verbally abusive. Being stuck in a state of social isolation and having to cut off my friends because he didn't trust me. He began to comment on my outfits, telling me what I can and can't wear out in public, always looking through my phone, wanting to do things I never wanted to do. I never had the guts to actually end things because this was my first relationship, I didn't know my worth, and I didn't know this wasn't how women or anyone should be treated. Since Sophia and Noah were family friends they would always hang out and be together all the time. I never put too much thought into it because I trusted him then. After Noah and I dated for nearly two years I decided to finally end things with him. I didn't want to go through any of that nonsense he initially put me through. After two weeks of breaking up with him my other friend Anna came over to swim and told me that while Noah and I were dating he cheated on me with Sophia. My heart dropped, I felt like I could hear every heartbeat, everything was in slow motion. I felt so angry, worthless, but most of all I was heartbroken. I didn't think that the person I trusted the most would go behind my back and do such a thing. I wanted to confront her about it, but she found out I knew and decided to completely cut me off, and block me on all social media. I still wanted to be friends maybe in the future once all was forgiven but I never got a chance to tell her that. After some time I found myself getting into a new relationship that I definitely wasn't ready for. I began getting super insecure about every single thing and got to the point where he couldn't handle my instability and insecurities. He broke up with me because I was broken. At that point I just didn't know how to feel. It felt like my heart was shattered from all this heartbreak and I just couldn't take it anymore. I kept asking myself what was wrong with me, if I was just some doll boys can play with, but I mainly asked myself if I was enough.

"The Five Phases of Grief" by Kristiana O.

 

 

Denial:

 

It was just another March day. Another day closer to spring break you thought as you turned off your alarm. You woke up as usual and began to get ready for the day. But you could tell something was off. The house was quiet and dark but you were concerned by the amount of silent nods and whispers. Your mom’s phone rang and she answered. And you could tell by the shaking of her voice that something was wrong. You couldn't help but feel ignored as everyone around you seemed to be in on some secret. You went to school as normal, a little uneasy but it quickly faded as you were reunited with your friends. The day went on and suddenly you were at peace again. Until that peace was disrupted. The office called and it was time for you to go home early. Your heart instantly dropped and your mind flew straight to him. Your heart was uneasy but you reassured yourself that he was okay. He was probably just back in the hospital and your family needed to visit him. But your last ounce of hope was drained when you saw the look on your father’s face. He told you he was gone. Instantly your eyes welled with tears. Gone? How could this be? How could the one constant in your life be gone?

 

Sadness Meets Anger:

 

When you arrived at their house you were able to piece together this morning's strange events. Your mom knew he was dying, she even took your two older sisters to see him in his last moments. This realization felt like a slap in the face. She knew this whole day and never told you. You couldn’t believe she didn’t take you to see your grandpa in his last moments. You weren’t able to say goodbye to the one person you loved in this world the most. No comment. No conversation. Nothing. You felt sick. The whole time you were at school that morning he was in another room slowly slipping away from this world and no one had the decency to even tell you directly. Your body swelled with pain as the tears kept rolling off your face. You felt like such an outsider. So disconnected from the people who you should feel the closest to. Your rage increased as you saw your grandma. Listening to her sobs ripped your heart to shreds. You should have been there for her this morning. How could your own mother leave you this morning knowing what was to come?

 

Bargaining:

 

His funeral passed. But the pain stayed constant. You couldn’t help but think about where you went wrong. If only you weren't so afraid of how his sickness changed him. If only you noticed his illness earlier then you could have gotten him help sooner. If only you had cherished those moments with him more. If only you weren’t so naive for believing he’d never leave your side. So many words left unsaid. You wish there was a way to have more time with him. You’d give anything for another hug. Another look at that smile that lit up a room. Even just to hear the sound of his voice or warm laughter.

 

Detachment:

 

More time has passed since he left you. They say time heals but you find yourself lost. Your life feels frozen in time. Stuck in the unknown. But the world has other plans, and time passes you by in a blur.The days continue but you feel so disconnected. You're physically there but mentally your mind flies elsewhere. The house no longer feels like home. One person is gone but the

whole place suddenly feels so empty. You find yourself in a room full of people feeling so lonely. You can’t help but look for his face in a place where you know you won’t find it. Everyone surrounds you with support but it feels so disingenuous. They don’t know how you truly feel. And if you're honest with yourself you don’t either. You end your days feeling so exhausted from holding back tears. You try to sleep but you're met with that sensation again. The tears roll effortlessly down your face, but you can’t digest the feeling.

 

Acceptance:

 

You used to once think that time was your enemy. But slowly you've realized that time can heal. The anger has faded. You no longer feel resentment towards your mom for her decisions. She was just as lost and confused as you were. What more could she have done? You have begun to forgive yourself as well. As time passes you remember more and more of him. And you realize you had so many moments shared together. Old pictures reignite old memories. The house doesn’t feel as lonely, and its comfort has returned. You're reminded of him everywhere you go. A simple word or item will instantly bring you back to him. You're no longer frustrated when you notice him missing in a room. You find yourself searching for his face because you can still feel him, and that brings you comfort. You’ve come to realize that loss is inevitable. Not everything in this life is meant to last forever. And it's a hard pill to swallow but you’re still working on it. Life feels different without him, so changed yet still untouched. It still hurts you from time to time, but it's supposed to.

"My furtive friend" by Kailee M

 

 

It’s early morning, and I lie restless beneath the crack of dawn, laden with the thought of a love unwonted (because it only exists in my waking dreams). The midnight bell was torpid—crooned a dead sailor’s chord that carried through the moon-struck shadows. I haven’t slept since. My every exhalation sobs life into the stillness, like the promise of resuscitation. 

 

I write to you (I promised myself I wouldn’t) with punch-drunk fingertips and hope that you can hear me halfway across the world. 

 

*

 

These are the sounds I hear at night: running water, babbling brook, rivulet of winding scars—it manifests in tidal waves and bruised and sundered stars. They’re breathed out in an exhalation of liquid smoke in candlelight, like ghosts who cling in desperation to a watered-down conflagration of excess, and regress. There is nothing for you here, they cry. There is no promised land. Despite myself, I grasp at them, hands scraping at empty air—but they don’t want to be caught (and I no longer want to know why). Still, they beckon forth in search of a broken sky. 

 

This is my big blazing inferno: burning dust saturated with blinding, bleeding colors. It breathes in gusts, the great static of it all, and waits—even as melancholy dissolves again in the sun. So, I sit and drink my peach tea and miss something I’ve never had. 

 

In those moments, when there’s nothing left for me in the waking world, I dream of memories painted in much brighter ink. 

 

It is daybreak, sunlight filtering through the clouds and painting dew-dappled streets with bronze, carrying the warmth of a summer breeze. It is the April sky, blanketing sleepy cities with a cotton-candy hue. It is spring rain, oh-so cruelly breeding azaleas out of the withered ground to be garnered and misplaced in the breadth of an unstrung heartbeat. It is the horizon, the silver lining between dusk and the languid earth, stagnant in its lethargy but evanescent in its clarity. It is twilight, a sleepy masquerade of bravado in limpid pools of stardust that aren’t quite as bright as the undiluted moon. 

 

It is a dream, watered-down and indulgent and mercurial, because I—the casual observer—only afford a glance, a smile, a look, a breath, before it wavers between reality and intangibility, and now it’s no longer mine to think about. 

 

I wish I had the talent to let go of the past as easily as I let go of the present, because the mirror I relied on to depict the saccharine past no longer works. I’d been wholly consumed by the idea of you—too absorbed in those chardonnay eyes to notice your eldritch horns (you cannot call that love, dear shadow). You’ve left just enough memory in the wake of your maelstrom for me to put the feeling into words. It was cold insecurity, overshadowed by starlit smiles. It was derision, hiding behind kind words that were nothing more than a careful charade. It was winding, roiling, seething fear, buried in the palms of your outstretched hands. 

 

(It posits that it’s been here all along.)

 

(Hate its prose, ignore its siren song.)

 

            When I was younger, I asked myself questions I didn’t know the answers to, throwing them to the wind and hoping they’d be blown back with the secrets of the world. Now, I look up at the clock above my window, and I finally understand what it means when it says, “No guarantees.” 

 

            Goodbye, electric angel. I hope you’ll forgive me for your epitaph: Do not resuscitate the dead.

 

            You may once have been my furtive friend, but now you’re a ghost in the breeze. 

 

“In Your Head” by Benjamin G.

 

 

Do me a favor and close your eyes for 10 seconds and then continue reading. Do it now if you haven’t already. Now you are probably wondering why. As a matter of fact you were probably wondering why I made you close your eyes while you had your eyes closed. Am I right? Now we’ve all heard the saying “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover” but what if I told you we can actually characterize people without ever seeing them to begin with. Crazy right? Now do me another favor, close your eyes again, this time for just 5 seconds and then continue. Do it now if you haven’t already. For those of you who closed your eyes, you probably wondered why I made you do this twice now. Let’s begin.

 

I made you close your eyes the first time to see if you were an active participant or a passive participant. What’s the difference? Well for starters the active participant is often unafraid of saying the wrong thing because the idea of getting it right outweighs the idea of getting it wrong. The active participant is probably a risk taker who figured you didn’t have anything to lose. Meanwhile the passive participant is either afraid of saying the wrong thing because the costs outweigh the benefits or no one was watching them so they figured who cares. There are 2 types of passive participants, procrastinators and observationalists. You are either lazy/in a rush because you just didn’t feel like it or you are indecisive because you are accustomed to learning from the mistakes of others. If you closed your eyes the first time you are an active participant, you see the glass ½ full. If you didn't close your eyes the first time you were a passive participant. I characterized the entire class just by telling you to close your eyes. I didn’t have to see you or know what specific person would be reading this. The human mind is powerful and deceptive, and because of this I can make you question yourself. Seeing a person and characterizing them isn’t good, but characterizing a person without seeing them… still not recommended haha. But wait, if I already characterized you the first time I had you close your eyes then why’d I make you close them the second time? If you closed your eyes the second time let me say this… I’m sorry.

 

And now you’re probably questioning why I’m sorry. Well that’s because the 2nd time was just for fun. I successfully wasted 5 seconds of your life that you will never get back, and maybe longer than that because some of you probably lost your spot and had to skim through all over again. I'm just kidding haha, the 2nd time I asked you to close your eyes was so I can distinguish the observationalists from the procrastinators. If you didn’t participate at all you are the procrastinator, you see the glass ½ empty. If you didn’t close your eyes the 1st time but you closed your eyes the 2nd time it's because you read how the other people were characterized for listening and you were curious as to how you would be characterized. You are the observationalist, who uses experience to make their decisions, you see the glass ½… well that’s open for interpretation now isn’t it.

 

If I told you to close your eyes again how many of you would do so? The risk taker is likely to close them again because why not, the procrastinator is highly unlikely to close them, but the observationalist is once again presented with a 50/50 chance. They have to decide if the request to close their eyes is a waste of time or another test for the lesson. Are you the active or

the passive participant? Better yet are you the risk taker, the procrastinator or the observationalist? Are you in between any of those? You can say in your comments which one you are because maybe you participated or maybe you didn’t. Only you know if you did or not right? Or can I figure out who did or didn’t?... Now I’m really in your head.

"10 Reasons I hate Q" by Melissa T

 

Although you may like to say you don’t hate anyone, I know you do. To cope with this hatred, I’ve been told that it helps to compile a list of reasons you hate them. For once, I will take this advice.

 

For sake of privacy, we will refer to the reason for my never-ending state of anger as the letter Q.

 

            Here are nine reasons I hate Q.

 

NUMBER ONE:

 

How does a jobless high school student afford Coffee Bean every day? News flash, drinking something other than Starbucks does not make you quirky. They’re both overpriced.

 

Did I mention Q is jobless? They’re so busy balancing a schedule full of APs, being president of 3 clubs, piling volunteer hours, and practicing several instruments. I mean, who does that? Yes they’re intelligent and excel at time management, but that’s besides the point.

 

Before you ask, I am not jealous that they can afford to buy $5 coffee every day.

 

NUMBER TWO:

 

Q wears a blazer with jeans once and thinks they’re a fashion trend setter. Then, all of a sudden I see a third of my chemistry class wearing the exact same thing? You are not a trend setter, you’re just spreading your horrible fashion sense. You have my chemistry class looking foolish. Someone let them know you’re the only one who looks good in contradicting clothes.

 

NUMBER THREE:

 

Q can dance…

 

Why didn’t anyone tell me this?

 

I was in the lunch line and they’re just busting a move right across the lunch room. Not only is that extremely disruptive, it’s completely unnecessary. Now I have to sit through three more classes on an empty stomach because Q was distracting me the whole time. Great.

 

 

 

NUMBER FOUR:

 

 

Q is Gen Z’s Picasso.

 

What right does that give them to flaunt their art all over Instagram? Just because I follow them and have their notifications on does not mean I want to see their work 24/7.

 

It’s not that impressive to paint on top of all the other 2,000 things you do amazingly. It just proves you aren’t that dedicated to your work. Fraud of an artist, am I right?

 

NUMBER FIVE:

 

Q offered me their calculus homework.

 

This is not the thoughtful and caring act you may think it is. Do they think I’m incapable of evaluating integrals on my own? Just because you’re rank 10 in our class does not mean you can look down on others. It’s not all that great anyway. You just somehow end up getting As on all your tests after hours of extracurriculars at school. I’m not bitter -- at least I get to watch the newest episode of WandaVision.

 

Did I mention Q likes the same show as me? I can never have anything to myself. They take, take, and take. Talk about being selfish.

 

Though, I wouldn’t be opposed to watching the next episode with them. That’s ONLY if my Disney Plus subscription expires… no other reason.

 

NUMBER SIX:

 

Q has the brightest smile I’ve ever seen.

 

But it’s fine, I know they only smile because they want to flaunt the fact that they can afford braces and monthly dentist appointments.

 

I don’t understand why Q is always smiling. Not that I’m always checking to make sure the smile is still there.

 

I will personally fight anyone who causes that smile to drop. That’s only because getting in a fist fight is at the top of my bucket list though.

 

NUMBER SEVEN:

 

Q got into a relationship. Apparently, the entire school has to know.

 

Let me tell you, they’re the most irritating couple I know. They hold hands under the chemistry lab tables and it’s so gross. I literally have to move to the back of the class because it makes me j̶e̶a̶l̶o̶u̶s̶ nauseous.

 

Not to mention, all the girls in my grade are delusional enough to be upset about this. Q won’t look at m̶e̶ them no matter what.

 

And get this. Q has the audacity to ask me why I’m upset? Stop being so nosy, I’m just upset because I failed my calculus test after refusing your help. That’s the ONLY reason.

 

 

NUMBER EIGHT:

 

So Q is no longer in a relationship.

 

Now I’m always worrying about them and it’s so annoying. I can’t even focus on my work when they’re constantly sad. All they did was find a new way to bug me because I have to constantly check up on them!

 

For months, they annoyed me daily. I could never sit down at the library and study in peace. I just sat at the same place every day because I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶e̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶m̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶d̶ ̶m̶e̶ the view outside the window was calming.

 

The most annoying part? Q called them dates every time.

 

NUMBER NINE:

 

Q refuses to call me their girlfriend and I literally am.

We’ve been dating for so long. We just need to be official so that everyone stops trying to get Q’s number. It’s annoying.

 

+      NUMBER TEN:

 

Q found this list and I’ve been getting clowned for two months.

 

--

I think it is a lot easier to hate rather than love. Showing our emotions makes us vulnerable and we all want that cold exterior that makes people think we are strong. Personally, I’ve found that showing affection and love for family and friends is rather difficult. I tend to get embarrassed by it, even if I shouldn’t be. So, I wrote this as a way to show that although we may mask our emotions a lot, the truth always comes out some way or another. Being in tune with yourself and your emotions will save you a lot of stress. And if you don’t believe that, just look at how long it took the narrator to get with Q.

 

 

"25 Lives "By Enrico D.

 

 

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ Death is discussed.

 

June 4, 2020. To you, the first of many dates you’ll lay eyes on. To most, a day like any other. To me, the day Heaven received another angel.

 

DEATH is a common fear that lurks in many―some more than others. Some allow this fear to completely encumber their livelihood, while others understand the natural essence of demise. It is everywhere. Grief, anguish, sorrow, pain, affliction, sadness, anger, misery; all pure and justified sentiments when death makes an appearance. Yet, we are so obsessed with death and society is practically desensitized. We celebrate life by viewing the lifeless remains of those we once laughed with, ate with, danced with, cried with. When a phone dies, you pull out a charger and charge it. When a candle dies, you simply relight it or replace it. When a beloved pet dies, you cherish the beautiful memories, grieve, and in many cases, find comfort in another playful companion! When a human being dies…

 

Carlos Ballon del Rosario: A family man. A holy man. A witty man. A wise man. A life. A death.

 

I am convinced that some are “blessed” with or “bestowed upon” a pass or 2, or 3...or 24. Maybe some are just lucky. Maybe some have cracked the code, or, just maybe, finally discovered the fountain of youth. Why a pass? A pass to what? A pass for what?

 

In 1946, 4th grade he climbs a guava tree to pick one of those delicious guavas bore on the graceful, swaying branches. Suddenly, he slips and has an uncomfortable trip down!

 

In a year unknown, a pickpocket raids him at the theater!

 

His teenage self was beaming with pride after his older brother gifted him a brand new Sheaffer ballpoint pen, during a visit to Quiapo with their father. As they got off the mini-bus, they were held up and he was, now, able to call that brand new Sheaffer ballpoint pen his, no longer. Not abnormal for 1949 Philippines.

Around the years of 1961-1962, the driver of the bus he is on falls asleep! The bus swerves and he veers towards the driver. It’s great he reacted quickly, or else his throat would have been impaled!

 

He and his wife, in their car, like a ragdoll, get dragged by a guard post in 1970!

 

Abdominal pain sends him to the hospital during a long day of work! Ruptured appendicitis does a number, does it not? His oldest son is worried to see him connected to an IV held together with nothing but medical tapes. Sounds like the 1970s.

 

In a forgotten year, he is crossing on Epifanio de los Santos Avenue (EDSA), and a bus full of passengers, unaware of his presence, rammed into the driver side of his car!

 

It is another day in another year, and the road is full of baha, or flooded water. Unfortunately for him, he is not watching his step and falls directly into a manhole!

 

He and his family are on their way back home after watching a broadway show in 1992. With his youngest son in the driver’s seat, he watches as the white car, up ahead, gets into an accident. His son veers into the center divider and the car is spinning airborne, much like trapeze artists!

 

It’s another year, and the screws of the tire he just changed are loose!

 

1993, and another car accident!

 

It’s the same year as the previous, and this time he is lucky. It is not a car, but rather a train that rams and drags him and his car.

 

1996, and his luck ends with another car accident!

 

A year unknown and a near-fatal car accident!

 

After attending his sister's wake (he does not have many siblings left) in October 2000, he leaves due to discomfort. Turns out he is having an abdominal aortic aneurysm!

 

It’s 2001 and South Fontana is not the safest place to be. While he walks to the ATM, a man, he thinks is his friend pulling a prank, holds a gun to his head. Him joking, the man butts him in the head, which is now gushing blood, and steals his wallet! He goes home.

 

2005, and another car accident!

 

His 2008 self is unable to avoid colon cancer!

 

Along with a quadruple heart bypass!

 

It’s 2009 and 24 inches of his large intestine is taken out!

 

It’s 2013 and his aortic valve replacement surgery!

 

Oh no, it’s 2019 and the car breaks aren’t working!

 

Apparently, his heart shares the same fate.

 

It’s 2020...he suffers a myocardial infarction; in simpler terms, a heart attack. He is dependent on oxygen. He is dependent on family. He is dependent on me.

 

He was my Lolo Carling.

 

This was his life…

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Banana Bread Recipe" by Andrew A.

 

Ever since the start of this pandemic, my family and I have been cooking a lot more at home, more recently we have been trying to learn new baking techniques and recipes. We feel that as a family it is important to spend time with each other during stressful times and baking is a great way to spend time with each other while making some delicious things to eat. For example, on Christmas Eve we decided to bake cookies and distribute them out to people in our family that we are not able to see as much anymore. It was really nice to be able to do something like that especially around the holidays. Personally, I have never been the type of person that was good at baking or cooking in general, but I absolutely enjoy learning new skills in life that will benefit me in different ways. In addition to that, I honestly enjoy baking because you get to experiment with new recipes and potentially come up with something that can be shared with everyone. For this recipe in particular, my dad had taken inspiration from a Paula Deen recipe by adding some additional ingredients to make it even better. He did not just wake up one morning and decide to bake some banana bread, it was actually due to my mom buying too many bananas by accident. We did not want them to go to waste, so he came up with an idea that put them to good use. Hopefully, you get to try this recipe out for yourself because it is so tasty and it is pretty easy to make.

 

Ingredients:

 

●      2 ¼ cups all purpose flour, sifted

 

●      1 cup sugar

 

●      1 teaspoon baking soda

 

●      1 teaspoon salt

 

●      4 medium ripe bananas, mashed (about 1 ½ cups)

 

●      ½ cup unsalted butter, melted and cooled

 

●      2 large eggs

 

●      1 teaspoon vanilla extract

 

●      1 teaspoon Grand Marnier

 

●      ½ cup of sliced almonds

 

●      ½ cup of crushed walnuts

 

●      ½ cup of chocolate chips (optional and any kind you like)

Directions

 

●      Preheat oven to 325°

 

●      Spray a 9x5-inch loaf pan with baking spray with flour

 

●      In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, and salt

 

●      In a medium bowl, whisk together banana, melted butter, eggs, vanilla, and Grand Marnier

 

●      Fold banana mixture into flour mixture until just combined and add almonds, walnuts, and chocolate chips if you would like

 

●      Spread batter into prepared pan

 

●      Bake until a wooden pick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 50 to 60 minutes

 

●      Let it cool in the pan for about 10 minutes

 

●      After cooling, remove from ban and let it cool completely on a wire rack

 

●      Store in an airtight container for up to 3 days

 

 

That should do it, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my blog. I really do appreciate it. Have fun baking!