Home is where the heart is...

A nice man I interviewed asked me if I would ever stay in Evanston. The answer is a definite no. I mean Evanston is a nice city and definitely more environmentally conscious than my hometown Pasadena. But, it's not home.

My little white house with blue borders is not a block away--waiting for me with its big amazon trees and yellow grass. I can't open the door with my "special" key, and find my mom switching back and forth from her Brazilian telenovelas (soap operas) and the Central America news channel. Nor can I see my dad sitting in his one-of-a-kind chair, watching the lakers shoot some three point shots or reruns of two and a half men.


I'm a family girl. I've always had a bestfriend relationship with my parents. Even when we've had our disagreements, we've quickly made up and moved on. It's what we the Luna family do. So I need to be close to my parents, whether talking to them on the phone or hanging out with them. I know some people my age don't feel the need be constantly with their parents, but I do. I'm that kid that webcams with her parents about how ther week went on a weekly basis.



But, I love it here. I continue to have conversations with my classmates, interviewees, etc, that open my eyes to new things--things I'd never thought about before.


Some have commented on my quietness/observative nature. It's been something I've been known for. I think being picked by bullies in middle school forced me to be aware of the small details. To pay attention to the tell-bits that might say I'm ok on the surface, but the subtext says I need someone to listen.

I remember a particular day that will always be engraved in my mind. It was during recess, and we'd just finished eating our snacks, my role as a kicking bag began. And with that came all the taunting names children say.

But, that day was different. The voice of my guardian or so I called the young man who came to my rescue like some knight right out of a fairytale. I remember feeling at that moment that someone there finally took the time to look deeper. I will always remember that man, even when his face fades through time, his kindness will always be a driving force for me to always pay attention to the needs of those who get over looked.

So if I can pay the kindness forward by giving a compliment, a smile, or help to someone else than I've lived a good life.

What is emotion?

Have you ever wondered what is emotion? It's a feeling...happy, sad, etc. But, why do we experience them? What are their purpose in our lives?


The answer is....I don't know.


I use to think that it was something fundamental in our every day lives. In fact, I believed so about 2 hrs ago.


Have you ever had one of those rushes? You know one of those that you get as you get out of bed ready to take on whatever life throws your way. That's exactly what I felt when I got dressed, brushed my teeth and headed off to 7 eleven for some soda shopping. I was so jolly, I even decided to get into this happy-go-lucky valentine's mood. I did so by heading to CVS where I bought lollipop bouquets for everyone. Let's just say that I was CVS favorite morning customer today.


The mood continued the whole day. I mean I was calm and confident (as confident as I'll ever be capable)--I had the world at my finger tips...or at least my mind thought so. Nothing could go wrong. Everything was fitting into place like that perfect piece of the puzzle you've been trying to finish for 2 weeks now.


The thing with rushes is that your feet must touch ground. And usually when you touch ground you end with a THUMP.


I think the moment where it went all downhill was after my haircut. It's silly to say that the haircut was the cause or any other illogical reason. No this stems from within me. But, if you'd ask me what was going on, I'd be flabbergasted. Completely and utterly useless in trying to give you some resemblance of a decent answer.


My room suffocated me when I got back. Like 4 cell walls caving in. No grip to stay afloat. Just endless nothingness that seems pointless at best. So in my attempt to get some air, I went to see Up in the air.

Maybe I should have gone for something easy on the mind and soul. But, I've never shied away from soul-searching moments in my life. Plus, I don't think me watching some random comical film will vanish the thoughts or feelings in my head.


All I want to do is rest. Not think, feel or do anything. To lie there in my bed with my shallow pillow and slowly drift to some world where everything is so simply. No complexions...no tangles...or webs.


What is an emotion? I have no utter clue. All I know is that I wish I was done with that whole business.


Here's a toast to another wasted blog space about a girl that whines about how her life is so bad when there is millions who would gladly take her spot.

Beat Beat Beat some more...

So we got our beats...^drum roll^ Environment. Of course I wanted another beat, but this was my second choice, and for the most part I am happy. There should be plenty of good stories here in Evanston and Wilmette.


All this journalism stuff (wow my vocabulary has shrunk since last February) has really rocked and shocked my shyness off its limits. I never knew I could approach random people for interviews, comments, etc. While frightening as it is, my poor nerves have definitely improved. But, I wouldn't say I'm the next social butterfly to grace Evanston. HA! The moment I said social butterfly, I just started rolling with the LOLs.


I really think I lucked out on the friends department. Everyone in my methods class is amazing. No I'm not exaggerating. And no I'm not being typical positive Jenn. They really are. I swear everyone in that class is hilarious. They all march to the beat of their own drum. I love that about them.


Everyone in my methods class is genuinely good people. Of course they're not perfect, heck no one is. We all have our glitches, moods, etc. Honestly, sometimes those small things add dimension to us. But, no really they surprise (good surprise) me every time. Take for example Brianna or who I endearingly call her Miss Sunshine. On that day that Jordan and I had a pull-your-hair-off day, we randomly caught up with Brianna and Kelsey. Of course I never bring gloves, especially when it's freezing outside. Intelligence just flows from me. Well anyway, she noticed my non-glove (is that a word?) hands and gave me hers. Just like that. I already had her on my top list of amazing people. But, I was deeply touched by her thoughtfulness. That is not even a sufficient word for her act of kindness. There are many other people who have made me feel warm and welcome. And I deeply appreciate that.


It's moments, even if just seconds, that really reinforces the view that most people are essentially good. Many would call me idealist, naive or just plain stupid. But I'm sorry, I'm those kinds of people that believe the glass half full. I just believe that if I lose faith in people than there really is no hope for the world. And everything I've done or wanted to do is to make some change in this world. So again, call me an idealist or a peace-loving-hillbilly, but you know what...so what! I am a tree-hugging-love-everybody kind of girl. And I'm ok with that.

What am I doing here?

I seem to be turning the water works on full blast. stupid tears. It's really rediculous that I'm being so melodramatic. Tears don't help at all.


Today has to be the breaking point for me. My fried brain, heart and soul can't bear it anymore. What little hope I had has just withered away.


After a full day of unsuccessful attempts to get 4 video interviews, I'm worn down to the point where I care too much, but shouldn't.


I miss my family, and my friends. I miss my blanket of security. I have nothing like that here. I have friends. But, I can't just knock on their door and shed my tears and vent freely away.


I sound so depressing and so melodramatic, which I hate. It's like come on jennifer grow up. Life is never easy so take that illusion from your brain.


Calling my parents was a bad thing. All I did was cry for the most part. Great now I'm worrying people I love because I'm having a crisis of some sort.



Sometimes I wonder if it's just best to pack up my things, catch a taxi to the airport and head back to California. I mean what am I doing here? It's like I'm batting zero here.


I need my sanity back. I need to retain some smidge of who I am as a person and as a writer. Because I feel like I'm losing both.

Just a poem

I was empty out my UCI email and found the poem I wrote for my Afro-Latin American Music class in 09. It's nothing exceptional, but for the sake of collection...I'll archive it here.

The Rise of the Punta

We come from the roots of West Africa

to the shores of Central America.

We carry with us the dialect of Igñeri and

the ancient rhythms of Bunda.

It is in the Africanized name Garinagu

that we the Garifuna people proudly rise.

But in our blood we too hold

the legacy of Amerindian, Arawak and Carib.

Forced from the island of St. Vincent,

Our people did escape

the colonialism of the White Man's tyranny.

It is our expatriation that gave us the fuel,

to withhold the turbulent pacific.

So like our ancestors,

enslaved and uprooted from their homes,

we pulled forth in dignity to make roots

from the coastal lines of Honduras to Belize.

In these countries, our new countries

we have brought the Banguity

But you may know it as the Punta.

Through this rhythmic contexture,

we express the anguish, love, and resilience of centuries.

When our Gubida clamors and reveals himself,

our drums do summon the dead to rest,

Saying a final Ayaú to the physical world they go.

But, do not forget that the Punta is not only for wakes.

It too is the dance between man and woman.

With one gradual movement of our hips

from side to side,

we like the cock and hen, begin the dance.

Our movements progress with rapid cadence.

Faster and faster our hips do sway,

urging for the defeat of our contra part.

The drums become our canvas,

the maracas and conch shells our paint.

Together they color the richness of this sensuous dance.

But like changing seasons,

young Garinagus looked towards the North.

Leaving our culture abandoned like old relics,

waiting and waiting for their return.

At last!

Never do our young Garinagus forget

the Punta that moves their soul.

And from buried old relics,

their Garifuna feet did rise to the beat of a new drum.

So from this new spirit, a new form arose.

The fusion of old and new did Cayetano proclaim,

the birth of Punta rock.

On the fateful Moho street, the Turtle Shell Band did create.

Amalgamating our ancient Punta beats with exotic percussions.

And till this day their legacy

is heard from the corners of Trujillo

to the cities of Los Angeles and New York.

In the footsteps of this great Pioneer,

Palacio did follow like many others.

Mixing soca, salsa, reggae, and hip-hip

to our old Garifuna tunes.

So like a wild fire, this master form spreads,

catching ears, feet and hips on fire.

Even gueros in their boots can’t stop

the rhythm of their hips from left to right.

For in the coastal lines of Central America to the land of liberty,

we can hear the pilgrimage of our Garinagu

in the lively tune of Banda Blanca’s “Sopa de Caracol”.

Life is Grand...

I've been pondering for a while on Life and all its complexities. Yes I grunt and complain about my misgivings, but if given the opportunity to live a different life...well I wouldn't budge. Not for the life of me would I change the experiences, pains and joys I've gone through. They have become uniquely my own. I say this all because there are times (I'm sure most people feel this way) when I wonder if I'm making some small difference in this world whether by my presence, words or encouragement. However, I don't realize that I waste precious energy and time questioning such things.

Is it not enough to make up with air in my lungs? Is it not enough to have a good education? To have warm food and clothes? To have a loving family and dear friends to call your own?

Somehow over the past weeks here at Northwestern, I've forgotten how much I should be thankful and appreciative about the life I lead. It's easy to get caught up in the effects of stress. But, if I've acquired any philosophical principle is that I never want to live a life of regret.

I've seen people who live their entire lives searching for some ghost of a memory that leaves them at the end of the day, less happy.

One of my favorite books is Tuesdays with Morrie. I remember picking it up when I was younger and immediately falling in love. It taught me to appreciate every second life gives me. It might sound morbid, but you just never know when you'll be here on earth. I want to be those individuals who see, taste, smell and touch everything life brings to their doorstep.

SO if you paint...PAINT PASSIONATELY. If you laugh...LAUGH HARDER. If you sing...SING TO THE CLOUDS ABOVE. And keep living living living.