Music. I still enjoy music to this very day, but now I look at it in a different light. I hear things for what they are instead of what I interpreted them to be. Classical music was less technical to me. My little sister and I use to listen to pieces broadcasted over the radio, and we would play this little game where we had to improvise and act out the piece played. We loosely followed the rise and fall of the orchestral suites, mimicked the fat lady and her glass-shattering squeal, and let the images brought forth by the colorful musical scores dance around our heads, somewhat like in Disney's Fantasia. There was no speaking: just ridiculous gesticulations and lots of giggles.

I am going to do my best to not disappoint my parents. I'm going to try to fill in the shoes that my older brother shoved aside. Not only are my ears bleeding from the constant nagging and complaints from my mother, but so is my head. I feel like these endless expectations and hopes are just pressuring that blood vessel to 'splode. I'm not saying that I'm going to let my parents decide my future for me. That's the last thing I have in mind. I'm just planning on pulling through this last stretch, before entering college next fall, and proving to my parents that they haven't raised a bunch of disgraces. Prove to them that we (or at least I am!) are capable of leading independent lives, that we are capable of taking care of ourselves, that we aren't trying to break their hearts through the little rebellious acts we put on. We're curious. We're impulsive. We're learning. We're young.

Querencia is a Spanish term that refers to a place where one feels safe, at home. It's a sort of niche in the World that leaves one with the feeling of security.

My Querencia happens to be the very street I grew up on.

It's a one way street that loops around a quaint little neighborhood. Actually, it's two streets: Santa Teresa meets El Dorado, but that doesn't matter. It still merges into one. I like it best when it's dressed in night.

As my Nikes hit the pavement and my breathing synthesizes with the pace of Damien Rice, I submerge. I submerge with the music, the beat, and the sound as I draw along the shoulder of the empty street. I keep track of my laps, each speedbump marking a fourth of the arduous journey around the loop.

It's a safe haven. This street is close enough to home, but it still keeps me moving. Enclosed by houses on the less extravagant end of the market, it offers privacy yet liberty. I've grown up on this street. I tested my first skates on its winding bends, scraped my knees against its gravel surface, and have stood in the tracks of numerous moving vans that swept its corners, watching many good friendships dissipate.

I have spilt my secrets into the thin air around it, and vented out my anger and frustration onto it, letting the friction wear down the soles of my shoes.

When I step off this street and onto a bigger road, I leave that safety net. Every step outside is riskier, unpredictable, and more spontaneous. I lose count of lamposts and hydrants; I no longer know where hidden potholes lay. It's no longer routine. It's no longer familiar.

I feel more like myself on this street, because I feel like I know it. Having that grasp of understanding, strangely enough, gives me confidence to understand myself. Its familiarity contributes to my past, thus in turn, contributes to who I am. It's my comfort zone, my thinking time, my bonding place, and my ritual.

What's on my mind?

i'm thinking about school and how i'm going to pull my grades up this year while still being able to maintain some friendships that are already slipping away i sort of feel like i'm losing grasp of everything in my life even though i am firmly holding on and i think about thinking and why i do it so much and i think about trust and whether or not i'll ever be able to put my whole heart into someone else's hands again but i look back and i remember i'm only seventeen and i make mistakes and i learn from those mistakes even though letting go is the hardest part and this is somewhat like how i write in my journals because i think that organized thought is for people who've been whipped by society. this is my stream of conciousness and this is how my brain works and i stopped talking to people because i felt like our talks were meaningless rants and complaints and gaia is a really good community because i feel like i have to censor myself somewhat with language even though i spit profanities like a sailor which i am trying to work on by using more euphemisms like what the fizz and oh snap except oh snap reminds me of that's so raven, and i was never a big fan of that show i don't watch tv very often anymore because i feel like i could be so much more productive than waste away in front of a box plugged into another box i like to listen to music and think to myself. writing in this form lets me get all my thoughts out and once i'm done i go back and i highlight what i said and all the key points and everything that ever made sense in my life and i think about those thoughts and they give birth to even more thoughts and i think about my friend and how he opened up to us today and how he told me he had to see a shrink every month which i had no idea since i didn't know he abhored himself to that point which makes me want to be a better friend which is hard, since i can't even be a good friend to my best friend who i currently "have beef" with because i don't see her applying herself like i believe she can, because she is too caught up in a puppy love relationship as is my other best friend and basically i'm alone but i'm self discovering and i have never been happier in my life yet disappointed i really want to make amends with him. i'll be happy if he even speaks to me but i know him and i know that if he calls something off, then it's off for good. i don't expect anything. the only expectations i have are the ones i set for myself. and i should end here, otherwise... i'll draw up an encyclopedia of meaningless ramble which is suppose to answer the initial question:

What's on your mind?

and these are the kinds of things that boggle my head every. single. day.

From Philip Glass's Einstein on the Beach:

Two lovers sat on a park bench, with their bodies touching each other, holding hands in the moonlight.

There was silence between them. So profound was their love for each other, they needed no words to express it. And so they sat in silence, on a park bench, with their bodies touching, holding hands in the moonlight.

Learning to "live without" is actually one of my goals in life at this moment. I'm learning to want what I have, simplify, and be satisfied.

I'm learning to live without rushing time, without regret, and without having to always be with someone.

The space between my tires and the edge of the road and that stretch to the Bay are the two kinds of spaces that matter most to me when it comes to biking. I can go hours on end with my head focused on nothing but the road, nothing but my destination. These spaces vacuum out the stress that builds up in my head and my body. They act as my natural aspirin.

I think the sincerest way to express gratitude is through Time and Patience. I know I value the time on my hands greatly, and when I take it out of my schedule to go out of the way to listen to or to thank someone else, it's the most real I'm getting.

Even if I have three finals the next day and my mom suddenly feels the need to share some life story, I'll shove my books aside and listen. Not because I'm trying to get away from  my work, but because I appreciate her so much (no mind the nagging,) that she'll always come first, ahead of my priorities.

Regardless of the role Time plays, I'd still be doing what I love to do, which is to learn.

There

will

Always

be

room

for

Improvement.