The wheels on the bus...

I've never ridden on a public transit.
I take that back. I've ridden the light rail in Phoenix.
But I've never ridden a public bus. In Tucson.
I'd heard rumors about what a bus is like-- a homeless haven with an aroma of urine.
Needless to say, I was a bit nervous to board a bus, but I treated it like an adventure, and all my fears went away. I mean, how scary can it really be?
I boarded the bus with my map in hand. I struggled to keep my balance at the payment machine while the bus started moving. I fumbled for my change. The bus driver looked at me in annoyance.
“Do you need a transfer?” he said.
“Um, no, I don't think so … no,” I replied in an obvious state of confusion.
After spending too much time trying to find the place to insert coins, and feeling more embarrassed than anything, I made my way to sit down.
It was obvious that I was out of place. As if the payment fiasco wasn't enough, I was wearing a blue Marc Jacobs blazer and white jeans. I looked like a bright crayon in a sea of dull, dark colors. I tried to find an empty seat as quickly as possible, trying to avoid adding to the level of awkward.
Finally, I situated myself in a seat alone, and began to observe my surroundings.
There was a father and son across the aisle from me. The son was playing on his Nintendo D.S. while asking the timeless question, “Are we there yet?” The dad was trying to politely ignore a talkative old man wearing a hat that read “Dysfunctional veteran, leave me alone!” I felt a little sympathetic for that dad, but I felt more relieved that I wasn't in his situation. There's nothing worse than being stuck on a bus next to someone who will not shut up, I'm sure.
In front of me sat an elderly Mexican couple. They sat in silence. Their faces said they had seen a lot. They were tired and worn. But there was an obvious love between them. A for better or for worse type of love. Meanwhile, behind me sat a young Mexican couple. They were loud and obnoxious. They were too touchy for public standards. There was an obvious lust between them. A type of love that probably would end in a month.
After noticing the people around me, I finally noticed where the bus had taken me. We were in Downtown Tucson. I panicked. What if we went all the way to South Tucson and I had no way back? Without even thinking twice, I got off at the next stop.
While I walked around town, I realized that the scariest part of the bus was not knowing where I was going in town. The experience it self wasn't scary at all! I realized that I made my situation strange because I was intimidated. I let the stereotypes and the rumors freak me out, and as a result it made me nervous and awkward. It made an interesting parallel to meeting new people. In no way should I let stereotypes and rumors freak me out. I should always give a person a chance before making a judgment on them. Because if I take meeting people like riding the bus, I'll be nervous and awkward. And who knows? The stereotypes might not be true.
I mean, the bus didn't even smell like urine.

Harder to Breathe

I don't get sick. I mean really. I can't remember the last time I was sick longer than a couple days...or even a time that I was so sick I had to go to the doctor.
So, naturally, I would get sick the second to last day of band camp.
Of course.
I guess I should probably explain what happened...
Essentially, on Wednesday night, I started feeling...off. Like maybe I had a fever, maybe I had a sore throat, maybe I just felt like poop.
But then again I was working my butt off at band camp. Probably just some symptoms of exhaustion, right?
Wrong.
I started feeling like a fish out of water, I kid you not. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe (lol, Maroon 5) and I started getting scared. No worries though. I'm Scarlett. I fight through stuff. So I took my inhaler and went to sleep.
Except I couldn't sleep. Because I kept waking up in pain and unable to breathe.
No worries though. I'm Scarlett. I fight through stuff.
So I go to band. I march in warm up block. I'm standing in concert arcs. It's getting harder and harder to breathe.
Not only was it harder to breathe though, my breaths were getting louder, I couldn't get enough air in.
This was quite possibly the most scary moment of my life.
After much persuasion, I sat on the side lines gasping for air, and crying out of fear, and pain.
No worries though. I'm Scarlett. I fight through stuff.
Except. It wasn't getting better.
After much persuasion, I sat in the waiting room of the local urgent care. The doctor gave me two nebulizers and steroid shot. My breathing still wasn't great, and I was feeling defeated.
That's when they did a chest x-ray. And that's when the doctor decided it was pneumonia.
Oddly enough, I was glad to hear that. Finally, an explanation.
Anyway. I spent the last day of band camp popping prescription pills, laying on my couch watching hours of Netflix, coming in and out of a fever, coughing, and feeling helpless and pathetic.
I would've done nearly ANYTHING to be out in the 100 something degree weather having my butt kicked by band.
But it is what it is.
I'm feeling slightly better. More energetic. More able to eat. So that's a start.
And aside from this whole sickness, and the issues with the cable/wireless internet at my apartment (which by the way, I totally fixed by myself...small victories.), life has been great.
My little apartment is turning into more of a home every day.
My room is super cute with all of the DIY stuff I made.
I've been spending a lot of time with one of my roomies, Brandi, and she is so sweet, and so much fun.
My bike, aka Nimubus 3000, is so baller, and so convenient.
Band is SO worth it, and I'm so excited for the rest of the season.
I'm thinking though, that everything will just go uphill from here. It doesn't get much worse than I was a couple days ago...so I'm looking forward to a great rest of the semester.

Evaluation.

So this is the blog post that I use to evaluate my summer.
Enthralling, I know.
But before you decide to stop reading because you think this is going to be all about how "super totally awesome" my summer was... how I spent my days sleeping in late, staying out late, and how I obtained a glowing, sun-kissed skin tone...
Think again.
Because I didn't do any of those things, actually.
But I still had...a "super totally awesome" summer.
Although, I really wish I did get to spend a little more time in the sun...I have to admit that this was, indeed, the best summer yet.
Why?
Well, I'm glad you asked.
I learned soo much this summer.
I learned how to make super cute aprons.
I learned how to bake super yummy stuff. (Like oreo-nies)
I learned how to stick to my beliefs, and that good things come when I do that.
I learned that pets are just as much a part of a family as any human. And when they die, it's just as hard as when a person dies.
I learned that it is possible to be tired enough that when you go to sleep at 7 pm, you won't wake up till the next morning.
I learned that a good friend can be any age.
I learned to always be nice to a receptionist/secretary/person who answers phones. No matter what.
I learned that when you're kind, you receive kindness back.
I learned that older guys can be shameless. Especially when they're sufficiently older than you.
I learned to always be genuine. Not that i haven't been, just that others really notice, and do appreciate it.
I learned that sometimes, you have to make tough decisions to make better things happen.
I learned how to drive to California.
I learned legal jargon. Like: deposition and garnishment.
I learned that in order to make it in life, you need connections.
I learned how to be more confident.
I learned that some new friends can be just as good as old friends.
I learned that sleeping is awesome. Not that i didn't know that before...just have a new found love for sleep.
I learned that having a full time job is really exhausting. Really!
I learned that 11:11 wishes really do come true. Well, I always knew that, I just had a couple come true. One of which, happened in the same night. WHAT? Yeah. :)
I learned that good things come to those that wait. ...A long time.
I learned that I can't do a backflip on a trampoline. I just can't! (And I tend to land on my neck...)
I learned not to take my family for granted, because life's too short.
But most importantly, I learned a lot about myself and what I want in life.
I'm heading into this school year motivated and excited to see what's in store.
Ahh I just really want to know what the future holds for me!
Until then though, I'm going to take it one step at a time. Everything happens when it's supposed to happen.
Anyway, Summer 2011, you've been good to me.

My Life as a Grown-Up

It always happens like this.
I go out on a limb and make super difficult decisions.
As hard as they are, I know they're the right choices.
Then life sucks.
But then...
Everything is just...amazing.
It always happens like this.
You might say it's sheer coincidence.
I think it's more.
But I'm not going to gush about how great everything is working out right now.
Okay. Maybe a little.
So I was doing some major job hunting.
...Just like every other teenager.
Really though, I was pulling my hair out at home. I needed to work.
Every restaurant was shooting me down because I said I wouldn't work on Sundays.
Yeah. Lame.
So I just went on with life. Making aprons. Baking stuff. Hanging out with friends.
Then one Sunday, I was talking to a guy at my church.
"Yeah I'm looking for a job. Anything really. Of course, working in an office type job would be amazing."
"Well, I'll keep a look out for ya!"
...Everyone says that.
So I didn't expect much.
Until he called me a couple days later.
Until I sent him a resume.
Until the Law Firm of Davis Miles called me for an interview.
Until I had the most intimidating interview of my life. (Spelling/editing/timed typing tests, Spanish translation test, HALF THE INTERVIEW WAS IN SPANISH. what.)
Until the interviewer said, "Normally we don't hire anyone with little experience...or in your case...no experience...but we're going to take a chance on you."
Until I got a call offering me a full time job as the front desk receptionist.
It all exceeded my expectations.
I now work in the classiest office ever on Tempe Town Lake. I answer phones. I take payments. I notify attorneys when their clients are here. I put data in the system. I work full time. I wear classy clothes and high heels every day.
IT'S AWESOME.
And it's funny, because I'm pretty much the youngest person there.
I roll with adults. I'm learning so much about the professional world. Heck, I'm learning a ton about the legal field! And it is sooo interesting.
It's definitely a little weird.
I declared at the beginning of this summer that it was the summer of change.
And I totally see it happening.
My priorities are changing.
I feel myself growing up.
I mean, when you spend 8 hours a day associating with adults in a work environment you can't really joke about poop.
...Not that I do that...
And i'm not saying I'm changing completely.
I'm still a goof.
And I still dress up ridiculously and learn dances and make music videos with my best friend.
I'm not turning into a "I'm-too-cool-so-I'm-going-to-be-lame-and-boring" person.
But I'm definitely learning about what I really want in life.
Where I want to go. What I want to be. Who I want to associate with.
It's kind of refreshing.
Work also distracts me. Keeps me busy. My mind stays clear.
Which is exactly what I needed right now.
Funny how the best things happen when you need it most?
Anyway. This job isn't the only great thing going on in my life.
I could go on about the amazing people around me.
The greatest adventures we've been having.
The awesome things I've been making.
The sickest sale on clothes I found the other day.
...But I'll write about that another day.

"I can't take this 'daddy beats me because he loves me' excuse."

I really wish I could articulate what is going on in my mind.
It always seems to come down to this. I'm totally inspired to write, but I have no clue what to write about, even though my mind is racing. Ugh. Well, here goes.
So I watched the movie Something Borrowed.
Twice.
(Yes, I know, chick flick, but I promise this is a good one.)
It really related to me.
No really.
It did.
I especially related to the main character, Rachel.
I don't want to give away too much of the movie, or the ending for that matter, because it's that good...that you should see it.
But. Essentially. Rachel has this big conclusion about herself in the end.
She goes through a lot.
She does a lot of thinking.
She does a lot of advice seeking from her best guy friend.
And in the end, she realizes for herself (with a little kick in the butt from her friend) what she needs to do, the kind of person she's being, and how she needs to change.
Okay. So what?
So say I'm Rachel.
I go through a lot.
I do a lot of thinking.
I do a lot of advice seeking from her best friend(s).
This is the end. This is me realizing for myself (with a little kick in the butt from her friend(s)/brother) what I need to do, the kind of person I'm being, and how I need to change.
What?
Yeah, I told you I've had a lot on my mind.
So here's my conclusion. My ending.
Sometimes we go through life thinking we're doing the right thing. We let things happen. We sometimes give people the benefit of the doubt. We allow those we care so deeply about to seemingly walk on us, thinking it's what you're supposed to do.
But sometimes, we have to take charge.
Sometimes we have to really evaluate our lives and think, What is it that I really want?
Because ultimately, it's about the big "I."
You can't live your life trying to change someone.
You can't live your life trying to be someone or something you're not.
You can't live your life trying to make decisions based off what someone else might think.
You can't do it.
The only thing you can do is think about you.
Think about what YOU want.
What makes YOU happy.
Regardless of what the mass populous might think.
Regardless of what people around you might think.
Regardless of what the most important person in your life might think.
Obviously the opinions of those others come into play.
But when you spend time trying to chase something that is seemingly unobtainable, trying to win a game you just can't win, trying to change something that just won't change...you lose time on something that is obtainable, a game that you can win, something you actually can change.
And this might not make sense.
And maybe you don't agree.
But until you are married and have your own children...who do you really have to think about?
When you're a 19 year old girl, succeeding in college, with opportunities surrounding you...who do you really have to think about?
You.
You need to be happy.
You need to be treated right.
You need to make decisions in a way that will positively impact you.
So since Sunday, I've really been evaluating myself.
What am I doing?
What kind of decisions have I been making?
What kind of life am I living?
What kind of people am I associating with?
And with that, I conclude.
This is my first summer in college. One of the last summers I'll spend at home. Three precious months of relaxation, before jumping head first into 17 credit hours and marching band in the fall.
This is the summer where I take charge of my life, where I decide what kind of person I'm going to be, who really matters to me, and what is really worth pursuing.
And maybe I won't have an ending like the one in Something Borrowed.
Or maybe I will. Who knows?
All I know is that life is too short to sit around waiting for a happy ending.
But I can start writing mine now.

Here's to you: #3

He really annoyed me.
I broke his trucks.
He got me in trouble.
We got in fights.
I bit him.
He pulled a pencil out of my mouth.
I got braces.
He was annoying!
I told my parents I hated him.
My mom asked if she should take him back to the hospital.
I hesitated.
"No...No...you and Daddy still love him!"
He always played on the computer or played video games.
"Scarlett, do you want to play?"
"No. Leave me alone!"
(Okay, maybe I was a little bit mean.)
And then he grew up.
It was around when I was 16 and he was 14.
We started relating to each other.
We could actually...talk.
He's now my best friend.
We tell each other stories.
We hang out.
We rap to Lil Wayne while driving around.
We laugh at stupid YouTube videos.
We have "The Hangover" movie watching nights.
We kill zombies...on COD.
We come to each other for advice. (Well mostly me to him. Weird? Maybe.)
We tell each other everything.
We have each others backs.
And I have to admit...I admire him.
He is an example to me.
He is mature beyond his age. (Usually. And not only in appearance.)
He is honest and loyal and trustworthy.
He is so talented.
This weekend he went to prom.
I was so excited for him. He's all grown up.
Seeing him looking all sharp in his tux made me realize.
How proud I am of him, and the person he's become.
How responsible he is.
How I never have to worry about him getting into trouble, or making a bad choice.
How sometimes he puts me to shame. (Sometimes, I think my parents like him more. :P)
How I know we'll always be close even when we grow up.
How I'm glad that I'm able to not only have a brother, but a best friend.
So here's to you,
Salud!

"In Sicily, women are more dangerous than shotguns."

When girls are little they often dream about being a princess.
They dream of wearing big beautiful dresses. Riding in carriages. Living in castles. Marrying a prince charming.
I too dreamed of being a princess.
...A mafia princess, that is.
Okay, maybe I didn't exactly dream of this when I was very little. I, as most young children, wasn't aware of what a mob even was.
My daddy always watched mobster movies though. The Godfather. Goodfellas. Stuff like that was usually playing in the background of our house.
Eventually I began taking interest in these movies. Fascinated with the mafia culture.
My daddy explained to me the backgrounds of the families, the terminology, what they did.
I was intrigued.
We often went to my grandpa's house after church on Sundays.
I never really saw anything out of the ordinary with my grandpa.
As far as I can remember, he's always been a larger guy, hair always slicked back. Gold chain. Fat gold rings on each finger. Always clean cut, clean shaven. Sitting at the kitchen table with a cigarette and a cup of coffee. Every Sunday. Same thing.
I thought this was totally normal.
Until my Quinceanera.
He sat in the back corner with the rest of the family. My friends would come up to me asking..."OMG who is that guy?!" "Is that a real mobster?" "Can I take a picture with him?" "...Can I touch him?"
I swear it.
Like I said, I never noted anything different in my grandpa. That's just the way he was.
Didn't all grandpa's wear gold rings on each finger?
Didn't all grandpa's keep a gun on their waist?
After the Quinceanera incident, I became more inquisitive. I really wanted to know what my grandpa did. I wanted to hear stories. This was for real.
So he told me some stuff. The stuff he could tell me.
I was beyond intrigued.
That's when my grandpa became the coolest person I know.
Anyway, back to my dreams of being a mafia princess.
I've seen the movies. The Godfather. Goodfellas. My Cousin Vinny. Scarface. American Gangster. The Departed.
...Gangster movies.
I've done my research. The Five Families. Cosa Nostra. the Luftanza Heist. Sammy The Bull, John Gotti, the Gambino family...all that.
So I know what goes on with the business.
People get whacked and everyone is so non-chalant about it.
People are corrupt and it's totally okay.
People burn up buildings, ruin peoples lives, with no remorse.
And this is all because of money. Or someone insulting someone. Or someone not trusting someone.
It's bad. It's illegal.
...And I want it.
They go to the best restaurants and never having to pay, because they own them.
They go to concerts and shows and get backstage passes, because they own the theater.
They walk around town and townsfolk address them by name, because they probably have asked you for favors...and because they fear you.
Obviously the role of the wife is to not know anything. She doesn't ask. She doesn't tell. She takes care of the family. She makes appearances. She benefits.
So why do I dream of being a mafia princess?
Here's why.
Because I imagined myself being part of the business myself. Not being totally subservient but rather, being cunning, powerful, and wealthy.
My ballgown? A fur coat and dripping in diamonds.
My carriage? A black rolls royce.
My prince charming? A sophisticated, powerful boss. Feared, admired, revered.
Anyway, just like any girls dream of being royalty, this dream of being a mafia princess is pretty unrealistic.
It's really a life of gambling. Literally and metaphorically. Waiting for the day the feds come banging on your door at 5 am. And then life is never the same. It's a life of prison visits and being a single parent trying to make a living legitimately.
And once the cops get ya, you lose it all. The life is over.
Not to mention...It's basically a life built out of illegal activities.
...But a girl can dream, right?