The Kumkuat Korner

        In New York, two kids from Senegal are being bullied by their fellow students calling them names like Ebola and even physically hurting them.          During their gym class, kids would say stupid shit like, "Don't touch the ball. If you touch the ball we'll get Ebola."          They would get beaten by stupid little asshole kids who punched and kicked them until someone FINALLY intervened. The kids had to go to the hospital to get their wounds look at by a doctor.  And while the NYC's Department of Education and NYPD are "investigating" the "alleged attack" (Really?? You're gonna call it that....ugh makes me sooooo mad) this is not the only case of discrimination with students from Africa who have already live here in the U.S. but people are stupid and immediately assume they have it too.          Ahem.... sorry, this stuff makes me mad!     ...

WHY IS THIS MAN SO DAMN SEXY!!! Maybe he's to blame for being my ideal man... It should seriously be a crime to look so  delicious good  looking   handsome  beautiful   SINFUL!!!! (I seriously drooled a little while looking up pictures of this guy to post.... and boy is he yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuummy~!)

So let me summarize these past TWO(? THREE???) weeks in a few sentences. My parents left then came back from their vacation in Paris, France! I heavily underestimated the amount of hair I'd bring back home from work I heavily underestimated the amount of hair I'd get up my nose....(YUCK!) I disabled my OkCupid account on the basis that I have to stop kidding myself on ever finding Mr. Delicious (a.k.a Mr. Right) on a dating website that most guys use to try to HOOK up... (bleh) I still don't know what I'll BE for Halloween!!!! Yup. Story of my life. Pretty awesome right? On the bright side, I am still awesome. And because I'm in good spirits, here's a picture of what I value the most above all of the things I possess.

Have you ever seen that one movie or read that one book that fills you with so much emotion, you become a wreck by simply the half of the whole thing? The one that makes you feel so wrapped up in the characters, and you grow with them, emotionally attaching yourself to the main character because you feel you understand him... Or her. And then, as you are nearing the end of the story, you are a sobbing mess of emotions so thick you can barely breathe. You feel hot. Your heart pounds in your chest. You feel excitement, sorrow, broken, jealous, angry, content, annoyed, a wild tide of feelings that you can't  .... won't settle on one in particular. You are happy for the ending, but you begin to feel empty because you return, to your body, your own feelings, your own story. You wonder how you would act if it was you in the place of the hero... or villain, or monster. or foe. That feeling that there is something more . An ache in your chest, a sort of hollow...

When I was a kid, my summers would be spent in Mexico with my mother's family. I would stay at my grandparents home and we'd spend endless days spending with my aunts and cousins. My mother is the youngest out of six sibling s, you see, and the eldest is my Aunt Sylvia who pretty much lived to her title as the big sister, the ring leader, the head honcho, whatever you want to call it, she was it.  Now my Aunt Gaby, the fourth sibling, always invited the whole family over to her house. It wasn't mandatory for my Aunt to do this big meal for the whole 30 of us (very close aunts, uncles, grandparents, nieces and nephews) since, every weekend my aunts, Sylvia, Lupe, Gaby, and Yasmin, (sometimes my grandma too) would alternate, so the cooking wouldn't fall onto a specific relative, but it was my Aunt Gaby’s house that I remembered the most fondly. My uncle, a tall and kind man of a few words, was a truck driver, and he had more tha...

Once upon a time, there was a young boy named Allan. Allan was seven years old and everyone ignored him. His parents ignored him, at school his teachers ignored him, and he had no friends. He was a very lonely boy. One day on his way home from school, he found a small grey bird crying for its mother. Allan picked up the small bird with careful hands. The bird snuggled up in Allan’s hands for they were warm and it was the beginning of a harsh winter and soon, snow would come. Allan decided to take it the little bird to his house and take care of it. Months passed and no one knew about the slowly growing bird in Allan’s room.  It was a secret that only Allan and the bird held.  Everyday, when Allan would get home, he’d run up to his bedroom and lock the door behind him.  His parents never paid any close attention to their son’s new behavior. They were too busy with their lives.   But Allan didn’t care. He was the happiest boy in the world. ...

I am chaos, I destroy all in my path. I am stupidity, I affect everyone. I am devastation, I bring nothing but shattered dreams. I am war, I spill blood in your lands. I am misery, I will bring all of you down. I am anger, I can blind you with buried wrath. I am lust, I make you dizzy with desire. I am the plague, I bestow it to everyone close to me. I am poverty, I can be seen on the street everyday. I am sorrow, I can make you cry. I am greed, I make friends turn against each other. I am hate, I will exist forever. I am depression, I come after happiness. I am fear, I swear to be always with you. I am infidelity, I happen to everyone who want something new. I am starvation, I carry a weightless burden. I am jealousy, I fill your head with doubts. I am human, I make mistakes. Written by Lady Kumkuat

The life I remember from many years ago is still picture clear in my mind. The endless days of watching such as Cartoon Network, Nickelodeon, Animal Planet (the list could go on). On school days, I would be practicing my talent to look busy and when my eyeballs weren't glued to the television, I would hide myself from everyone and play with my imaginary friends, entering a world of witches and princesses previously seen in dramatic Disney movies. My efforts to go unseen were always short lived because of major interruptions such as my mother yelling at me for trying to skip my chores. Whoops! With in time, things changed unknowingly. Before there was no one who could have made me really read books.   I hated reading .  No way, no how, could anyone ever make me read a real chapter book.   I preferred picture books, like the ones on the second floor of the old Public Library, under the children section where one can always find mothers with their infants...