Hózhó

Hózhó

My mother, my best friend named Jasmine, and our neighbor from back home in Texas named Linda, and I all waited at the mouth of the gondolas for the Telluride Off-road adventures to pick us up.  

My mother, who is deathly afraid of heights, seemed strangely pacified about the situation. All of us were surprised she even agreed to come along. When we called the jeep tour three days ago, we opted for the 2-hour tour guide called Seasonal Waterfall Tours, which according to the woman on the phone went through Ophir Pass, Tomboy Ghost Town, Alta Ghost Town, and Last Dollar Road. The first thing my mother asked her was how perilous the tour seemed to customers who were afraid of heights, and the woman reassured her that this was in no way a dangerous tour and that people with fears of heights reported that it never bothered them. 

The dark yellow jeep cranked to a stop in front of a store that sold highly expensive ski equipment and clothing. As kids and noisy families jostled around us, we all waited at the street curb to meet our tour guide. I had expected what I thought would be a mountainous man; the lower half of his face covered in a thick beard, with the build of a bear to step out of the driver’s seat. Instead, a lanky man opened the door, wearing a pair of slick sunglasses over his eyes and a tanned, scruffy cap hanging low over his forehead. From the passenger seat leaped out a dog with friendly, beady eyes but resembling much of his owner with his lanky, long legs, and overall stocky figure.  

Our tour guide introduced himself to us. His name was Herb, and his partner was called Rocky. Herb shook all our hands, and he had a crooked grin, and upon closer inspection, I noticed he had the barest hint of facial hair beginning to sprout along his sharp chin. The man was all muscle. I’ve come to notice that the men here in Telluride are not brawny like lumberjacks, but had figures that were gawky and thin. He clearly spent more time outdoors than inside a gym, working out on artificial machines. These were the real Colorado mountain men I had heard about--the ones who dared to ski the dangerous slopes of Colorado in the harsh winters and hiked the trails alongside those same slopes in the summer. Even driving on the road revealed how accustomed these people were to the gentle yet overbearing giants around them. No matter how hard me or any of my family tried going the speed limit, we were always too slow, and we always had someone trailing us close behind. We might as well wear a sign on the very back proclaiming we were from Texas and not used to the winding, hilly roads of southern Colorado.  

Herb warned us all that the ride will be bumpy. The jeep itself had seats on either side, benches, and they had yellow bars raised overhead, vertically, for if any of us wanted to stand up to look around, we could hold onto those to keep from falling out.  

There were no seatbelts. 

At first, the tour consisted of jarring historical facts. We sailed through the town, interwoven with the traffic of Telluride, maneuvering our way through the walking pedestrians. 

We passed by the sign in the middle of the town with its name written beautifully over the front and colorful flowers on all sides. 

Despite the cheeriness of its people, Herb told us that Telluride, like any other town or city, has a past seldom people knew about. This was hard to believe for me, because here in this cozy little town settled comfortably in a box canyon with a beautiful view of steep and towering, forested mountains surrounding it--it was hard to imagine anything bad happening. Telluride after all is nationally known not only for its ski resorts, but its pop culture, being featured in so many songs (by artists like Tim McGraw, Josh Gracin, Laura Marling, and Jake Own) and all its music festivals throughout its warm summers.  

But, Telluride was once a mining town. And today I quickly learned that all mining towns, without a doubt, had dark pasts. 

Herbs told us the start of Telluride’s discovery, being the pursuits of gold in the late 1800’s. Because of its isolated location, it took some time for its population to grow, despite the riches that were promised the moment John Fallon first allegedly discovered gold in Marshal Basin, which was above Telluride. Eventually, though, in 1878 the town was founded. Even with the disillusioning promises of gold, the area itself was rich in other minerals like zinc, lead, copper, and silver. As the population slowly began growing, everything changed with the emergence of Butch Cassidy and his gang known as the Wild Bunch. Here in Telluride, he robbed the San Miguel Valley Bank, which lay right off the main street, which was now called the Mahr Building. 

  And today I quickly learned that all mining towns, without a doubt, had dark pasts. 

As Herb told us all these exciting stories of a Western time in which Telluride was still young, I was shocked at all the excitement behind the robbers in search of the wealth than came with discovering gold. Even more unrest started, however, at the booming of mining towns. Though I noticed upon mentioning the labor disputes between the mining companies and the workers, Herbs changed the subject. 

“Property cost here is insane,” Herbs told us as we were nearing the outside of town. “Years ago, I used to say that you had to be a millionaire to live here. Now, I say you’ve got to be a billionaire.” He slowed the jeep down and directed our attention to our right, “Do you see that house right there? That is by far the most low quality house here in Telluride, but it’s on the market for over a million dollars.” 

Me and my mom exchanged mystified glances.  

“What about the workers?” My friend Jasmine asked.  

“Across town, near Bridal Falls, is where the worker sector is. The city’s got houses for workers like teachers and doctors, to make it more affordable to live here. Maybe I’ll take you guys by near the end of the tour.”  

Herbs took a thickly sloped road leading to a line of thick, green leaves with peering trunks that reached like claws over the road. We had to be mindful of these as to avoid being hit. Higher and higher we climbed, and soon, the road turned extremely bump. As we took a sharp corner, waving to a passing tour bus, the road turned into a narrow, rocky trail.  

My stomach churned. 

Beside me, my mother grew quiet. 

Meanwhile, Jasmine and Linda were talking animatedly. Often we’d hit a sharp bump that had us stumbling on our unsteady legs. I kept a death-like grip on the railing always, my knuckles turning white. I tried peering overhead to look for signs of bumps as to brace my body for impact. But most of the jarring ones came out of nowhere.  

Feeling my stomach churn with even more nerves, I sat down next to my mother and took out my lunch box, where I packed a light snack for myself. Chopped banana and peanut butter, for some quick carbs and some much-needed protein, since we had left so early from the cabin to arrive in Telluride, which was roughly 50 miles away from Delores, where our cabin was. Considering sloping up a higher elevation of 3,000 miles and perilous, sharp turns with no railings on the side of cliffs, the ride itself added up to an hour and twenty minutes. But now, as I chewed heartily on my snack, I realized how nice the roads were there rather than this trail. Sitting on the side of the cliff, as Telluride started appearing more and more like a speck of dots, the jeep tended to lean, and it felt as though it may roll over off the side. I had quickly lost my appetite, but I chewed on, trying to focus on the trail ahead rather than the deathly drop next to my right. 

We took several breaks during our climb. With Telluride itself being over 8,000 miles in elevation, we would climb up to 11,000 once we reached the Tomboy Ghost Town at the top. We still had about 2,000 more to go. During our breaks, we all got out to walk and stretch our legs. Rocky often bounded ahead of us, in search of anything interesting left on the trail, but he never ventured too far from Herbs.  

Despite the height, the views I saw were indescribable. No wonder the mountains of Colorado inspired many artists, from singers to painters, to writers and to photographers. The sleeping giants towered yet above us, untouched by man; it was an art I saw that was created from nature itself. The air, fresh and open, even though there wasn’t as much due to the higher elevation, was refreshing to me. Though walking a few steps up a slope made me breathless, it was all so awe inspiring with its tint of danger. Like a rose with thorns, the mountains were a sight to see, but it made me wonder how people traveled to the mining towns centuries ago, on horseback and with carriages. With terrible weather, too--it was horrifying to even imagine those mules trudging even in the snow, with the danger of avalanche constantly present on their journey.  

Harriet Backus’s personal account of living in the Tomboy Mine called Tomboy Bride: A Woman's Personal Account of Life in Mining Camps of the West depicted a woman who married a miner. Having to leave behind her former life, she moved in Telluride, where it took several years for her to adjust to the rigid landscape and harsh conditions of life. Living so far away from Telluride, the people living in Tomboy could only order groceries once a month, which had to be carried by mules--often items were forgotten or lost on the journey, and that was counting of the mules and rider arrived safely. There were no doctors in Tomboy, so if someone grew sick or a woman became pregnant, they had to make the perilous journey to Telluride. Pregnant women often went to Telluride anyway, for the lower elevation in town. Nonetheless, Backus’ account depicted how the women and men living at this high elevation, where farming was impossible, there was scarce, if any, hunting game, drew together to help each other survive.  

 Despite the height, the views I saw were indescribable. 

When we finally reached Tomboy, I was surprised at how green everything was. Due to the temperature growing significantly lower, I pulled on my red jacket halfway through the trip up, glad to have brought it like my mother had advised. There were other people parked near a bunch of shambles, and Herbs told us that those were the remains of the houses and stores of the town. When we passed by what used to be the convenience store, I was shocked to see inside the shambles were still forms of shelves, where items used to be stocked. 

Around us, we were surrounded by slopes of mountains. We could clearly see the treelines stop at a certain point, and there were still splotches of snow adorning the mountain sides. The vastness of the space around us was what really took my breath, as we all unloaded from the Jeep. My mother, who had resorted to getting on her knees in the middle of the journey, close to having a panic attack, seemed to be more collected now that we were no longer teetering on a cliff. It was quiet here, except for the voices of tourists. There weren’t many children, I also noticed.  

  

We all went separate ways, off to look at everything ourselves. Jasmine went to a small, trickling river stream, Linda went to check out the remains of buildings, and my mother and I went to look over where we just came--where miles away, was Telluride. I tried to imagine this place covered in snow. How did people do it? 

“It was a very harsh life up here,” Herbs was telling us. “With no dirt, people couldn’t even bury bodies. And they had trouble keeping everyone alive. With mice issues, they tried bringing cats, but the cats didn’t do very well with the elevation. The mining had the worst conditions, though. The companies looked for orphans to become miners because miners often died at an early age. So with them being orphans…” 

“They had nobody to really account to,” I murmured. 

“What a shame,” my mother commented.  

 “My mother, who had resorted to getting on her knees in the middle of the journey, close to having a panic attack, seemed to be more collected now that we were no longer teetering on a cliff.” 

“The Tomboy Mine sure didn’t last forever,” Herbs continued. “The people eventually realized this bit of land just didn’t have liveable conditions. Slowly, people began leaving. When everyone was gone, the mining company tried blowing up whatever mines were left. They didn’t like to keep track of their records with the labor disputes starting up in Telluride.” 

Rocky trotted past me and my mother with a huge stick in his mouth, his tail wagging excitedly. I sat down on a nearby boulder, seeing Jasmine’s petite form standing over by the river. Just standing. And looking. And listening. I didn’t want to move much, either. Not because of the elevation, but because I wanted to just take it all in as much as I could.  

A place unlivable, I thought to myself. Even to this day, as I’m back in South Texas, I keep thinking back to Tomboy Mine. The beauty of the wildflowers that you didn’t see in Telluride or Delores. The overreaching mountain peaks that stretched for the sky. The vastness of it all. I’ve heard stories of entire civilizations of people having to pick up and leave because of lack of resources. Recent studies discovered that it was decades of droughts that drove the Cliff Dwellers in Cortez, Colorado away from their entire civilizations, to be wiped off the face of the earth completely. For years we had no idea how they suddenly vanished, but now, speculations arose with some possibilities that have happened before.  

 As with the Cliff Dwellers, all these people here had hopes and dreams, of which now were mere shambles of buildings, crumbled remains of shelves and pottery, children’s toys. I can’t help but think of the challenges humanity is facing right now, due to climate change and 

human impact on our planet.  

The Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) has spent years researching our climate and the past’s climate. In the past ten years or so, they have deducted that they were 90% certain humans were making an impact of the rate of climate change. Otherwise a naturally occurring process, humans are not the only ones affecting it. However, we are speeding up the process from thousands of millions of years to decades--which has never happened before on Planet Earth. The IPCC’s most recent conjecture, however, stated that they are 99% certain that humans are making an impact on the rate of climate change.  

They aren’t the only ones concerned, however. Institutes all over not only the United States but the world are coming together with speculations, research, data, and concerns for our future. NASA has come up with a prediction that by the year 2050, the world’s population will face long enough droughts that threaten our ways of life as of now. With the rising of the sea oceans due to the polar ice caps melting, many cities like Miami, Florida living on the coasts will be under water, which will in turn displace thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of people.  

All I can think about now is at the rate we are going now, can we someday end up like the Cliff Dwellers, or the people living in Tomboy? People who had soaring hopes and dreams, only to be forced to pick up everything and leave because the area was simply unlivable? I believe it’s not too late to change our way of thinking and our way of doing things. It’s only the matter of how many people want to do just that. 

"Fake It"

 "Fake It"

To this day, I cannot remember what exactly led to this event. But I do remember the mosquitoes of Bishop, Texas.

Breath hitching in my throat, I swat at another mosquito on my arm. But I’m too late. I scratch at the already reddening spot, and my 3^rd grade teacher named Mrs. Barbour reaches for my hand as we both go to cross the street.

Other kids attending Bishop Primary School rush and bustle past us, eager to head home for the day. I recognize a few from my class, but nobody says goodbye, and neither do I.

We’re a year into living at this tiny town we’ve recently called home. And Bishop really is a small town with a tight-knit community. Every Sunday, my mother wakes us all early to go to the Saint Paul Lutheran Church. There’s always some kind of outburst or fight during the chaos that comes with having to dress three stubborn children. Miraculously, my mother managed to load us all up and get us to church on time for Sunday School. Church was the only place she was ever on time for.

At 9:00 a.m, us children went to Sunday School. At 10:30 a.m was when the “divine service” took place, or so the old ladies of the congregation called it. The doors leading into the classrooms for Sunday School were all vividly colored doors, and I always wondered why they made sure to color the doors but not the plain, red bricks that make up the building’s sturdy foundation. I always liked playing outside in the playground out back, past the basketball courts. There me and my brother often ended up wrestling with Ryan and Jared, our new neighbors. One day Mrs. V, a Sunday School teacher, had to pry me off Jared and cease fire to the onslaught of pebbles being thrown between my brother and Ryan.

For the main church service, my mother fusses more than usual over our clothes and our hair. If we had time to go to the playground, my clothes were always dirty and ragged. Then, all of us—my sister, my brother, my mother, and my father— listened to Pastor Frankie preach the word of God, though I always spent more time doodling in the pamphlets tucked away in the seat in front of us, where our knees are. I do not always understand what he says, but I do understand that there is a God that we must love or else we’ll be in time out for a very long time.

For school today, my mother dressed me with tights, a skirt, and a shirt that says ‘princess,’ with white gloves adorning my arms. Having been a clothing designer before she got married and had kids, my mother is able to explore her passion of fashion onto us. Sometimes I feel like a puppet. Other times I really do feel like a princess. I cannot remember the last time she bought clothes for herself, and even to this day, she’ll buy clothes for us in a heartbeat, but not for herself.

“Hi, Mrs. Reeves,” Mrs. Barbour says as we approach my mother’s car where her window is rolled down. My mother quickly puts out her cigarette.

            “Good afternoon, Mrs. Barbour,” My mother says with a smile.

            My teacher glances down at me then back at my mother. “I’m very worried about Sarah. She just seems so sad. I tried talking to her today, but I couldn’t get her to smile? I thought I’d talk to you about it.” The teacher releases my hand, and my mother gets out to open the door to the van for me, her smile turning into a concerned frown. Inside, I can smell the strong bitterness of the smoke from her cigarettes. A cough builds in the back of my throat, but I stifle it.

            “I’ll talk to her about it,” My mother says, but her voice lowers as I turn to stare out the window; she doesn’t want me to hear, but I can still hear her hushed voice nonetheless. “She’s having trouble making friends.”

            “Some kids take longer to come out of their shell. Why don’t you put her in our UIL?”

            I lose interest in my mom’s conversation with my teacher and watch other kids play with a soccer ball next to the sidewalk. I want to hop through the door of the minivan and join them, even though I am wearing tights and a skirt.

            When the teacher leaves, my mother pulls out of the parking lot and begins driving.

            “Sarah, what did I tell you?” She asks, lighting another cigarette as she keeps the window rolled down so the smoke won’t hit me, even though it still does. My eyes tear a little when a powerful whiff hits my nostrils. “You’ll never make friends if you don’t come out of your shell. If you think people are scared of you, it’s because you don’t smile at anyone. I’ve told you time and time again, smiling makes a huge difference.” She pauses and sighs. “Just...tomorrow, be happy, okay?”

            “Why?” I ask. At the time, I knew that people could be happy. I knew that I was. I just didn’t see the connection between having to smile to show I’m happy.

            She throws her arms up in exasperation. “I don’t know! Act happy, even if you have to fake it, okay? Fake it.”

            I stare hard out the window as we continue driving home, her words seeming to stick with me as our mutual silence ensues the rest of the way.

The next day, I do what my mother said. I smile even when I feel no need to. During recess, a group of girls ask me to play with them. We sit underneath a large, shaded tree, and the girls gush about Cody telling someone that Samantha is cute. But Cody’s a boy? Gross! I want to say, but I don’t. They mention a word I’ve never heard before, so I ask what it means. They all laugh before realizing I am serious. “Gossiping means to talk about someone,” the most popular girl named Addison with the darkest eyes I’ve ever seen tells me. As they go on to talk about even more boys, I keep glancing at the boys on the field, playing soccer. Playing soccer seems more fun than gossiping.

At the end of the day, Mrs. Barbour walks me to my mother’s car again. Hand-in-hand, with me mindlessly scratching at the mosquito bite on my arm, we trek past excited kids. Addison says goodbye to me with a beaming smile that I return. By now, though, my lips are hurting from straining so much. I want so badly to rest them, but I am determined to keep this up until I am with my mother.

“Mrs. Reeves, I don’t know what got into Sarah, but she was so happy today!” Mrs. Barbour gushes as soon as we are in earshot of my mother, who had again quickly put her cigarette out when she sees us. “I don’t know what it was, but she spoke to the kids and played games during recess. She was like a completely different person.”

From the corner of my eye, I see my mother smile in relief.

“Sweetheart, what were you so happy about today?” My teacher asks me. My mother opens her door and stands in front of the Tahoe, opening the back door for me to get in.

“My mom told me to fake it,” I say.

My teacher’s smile quickly dissipates, and for a few moments, I feel my mom’s horrified stare boring into me. I quickly turn away from my teacher’s flabbergasted expression and climb into the car. Behind me, I hear my mom laughing louder than she normally does.

“Why in the world would you tell her that?” my mother rages as she drives home faster than usual, taking sharper turns. She smokes cigarette after cigarette. I don’t even think she breathes in between lighting them. She even swerves a few time when her attention is diverted on lighting a new one. I clutch hard onto the seat, my stomach churning.

“I don’t know,” I reply quietly, the typical phrase as a kid you’d use when you didn’t quite know how to word something, or when you were in the bathroom with a pack of gum and the teacher looked at you accusingly and said, Do you have gum? ‘I don’t know’ is a typical reply when you don’t want to lie, but you don’t want to tell the truth either. 

“How embarrassing,” my mother mutters, flicking her cigarette bud against the window as she exhales, the dark wisps of smoke filtering out into the bright afternoon light.

After a few minutes of silence, I ask, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“At Sunday school, Mrs. V told us that God sent his one and only son to die.”

“That’s right. So what’s your question?”

“I thought God was good?”

“God sent Jesus to die on the cross for us,” my mother replies. “Without Jesus, none of us would be here right now.”

“But why did he have to die on a cross?”

“To take away our sins. Honestly, Sarah, you’ll understand more of this when you’re older. All you have to understand for now is that God sent Jesus to save us all from our sins. You remember what sins are, right?” she turns to glance at me over her shoulder, putting out one of her cigarettes in the ashtray sitting on the middle console.

“Sins are when we do bad things,” I say.

“Yes. Like stealing, fighting with your brother—”

            “Lying,” I interject softly, and I see my mother’s shoulders stiffen.

            “Yes,” she says curtly. “That is one of the ten commandments.”

            “Is smoking a sin?”

            For a couple of seconds, she doesn’t reply. We’re turning into Aurora Street, our neighborhood. The first house on the right is my best friend Shelby’s house. She’s two years older than me, so I don’t see her much at school. On our left is Jordan’s, someone who forever boggles my mind. My mother told me that he was born sick. Every time I see him, he’s sweating a lot, even when it’s winter, and he always breathes really hard, like my brother with asthma does when he is really sick. It isn’t until she pulls into the driveway of our small, pink-bricked house, and I can see my father starting to cook dinner through the front window that she says, “I don’t know.”

            Ten years later, I’m a 21-year-old woman. My grandmother on my father’s side was admitted to the hospital the day before Thanksgiving of 2016 with chronic bronchitis and emphysema, two lung diseases related to smoking cigarettes. She got out of the hospital okay, but now she has to carry an oxygen tank everywhere she goes, which means she can kiss going to my parent’s cabin in Colorado in the summers goodbye. The high elevation will have too much of an effect on her already struggling lungs to risk it.

            I will not delve into my mother’s habits to this day, but I will delve into the darkness of smoking tobacco smoke. My mother has a beautiful, kind hearted soul, and she is the most spiritual person I know. Most mornings, when the rest of us are still fast asleep, as the sun is just starting to rise over the horizon, my mother can be seen standing right underneath the warm rays of the morning light, with her arms outstretched towards the sky, her eyes closed, and face peaceful.

            “I’ve never seen an angel before,” my father has said to me. “Until I met your mother.”

But when it comes to her addiction of smoking, the addiction often takes over all of that. She will choose smoking over so many things in her life—her faith, food, even water itself. Unlike my father, who has made the conscious decision of attempting to quit over the years, my mother has not tried. For this I will hold no judgement on her behalf because I cannot fathom what it is like to be that addicted to something, to the point where I feel like I will die without it, even though it is slowly killing me.

            I thought it was difficult to fake smiling as a child, but now I know it’s so much more difficult to fake my concerns and anger and frustration and sadness when I see her hands trembling as she lights that cigarette first thing in the morning, or when I am heading to bed for the night and see her step outside to light her one last cigarette for the day. All the empty cigarette cartons laying around our house. There is an angel statue we have next to our front door, a little girl cradling, with her hands bowed in prayer. In her hands lies mountains of used cigarette buds. When her voice goes out every morning, her lungs wheezing, and she says it’s allergies and I don’t argue.

That’s the thing about cigarettes. With all the warnings on the back, all the testimonies from victims of its aftermath, excruciating deaths from lung cancer are likely to sneak up on you. All the warnings and facts are there, written behind or on the side of every cigarette carton, warning the calamities that smoking entails.

But, someone must make the ultimate decision to quit, which is not an easy challenge to overcome. In fact, a challenge is a massive understatement. Upon recalling this vivid memory of mine, I have discovered that little compares to watching someone you love slowly destroy themselves.

It makes me wonder why? And the answer is simply I don’t know.  

April 20, 2017 UPDATE

Heya lovelies!

So, HAPPY 4.20!!!

For those of you who don't know what that means, google it. I'd put it on here, but once you see what it is, you'll know why!

Anyhow.

I wanted to give ya'll an update on my writing project. It's ALMOST completely written. It's divided into 2 parts, and since the 1st part has been done for quite some time, I've already had it gone through 2 rounds of VERY helpful beta reading for which I am eternally grateful for.

Seriously guys. Beta reading is a LIFE SAVER and such good experience if you want to beta read someone else's work, too.

I am so close to finishing the 2nd part that I can almost taste it. At this point, my project is also going to need a sequel. I'm not leaning towards it being a trilogy but I'll have to wait to see how far I can get in the second book. This project of mine is starting to develop into more complex ideas and themes, so this is why it requires a sequel. I'm not just forcing to do it that way to profit more on it--I know making sequels and trilogies is a major trend right now, I just don't want to have a 1,000 page novel in hopes of people having the courage to start reading it.

Ha.

I'm projecting to have the 2nd part finished and gone through two rounds of beta reading by mid-summer. Of course, this depends on how busy my beta readers are and whatnot.

My last, final round of beta reading is more for general thoughts. I literally give it to people I trust and ask them for honest feedback, like whether the book entertained them, if they see any typos. It's not heavy, dense work so it's not time consuming. I'm essentially asking them to read the book and let me know if they liked it. I want a reader's honest opinion.


Also, as a lasting note, I've had even MORE commissions done for the story! Check 'em out!

Book Suggestion

Heya guys!

So, I haven't done this a while.

With finals quickly approaching (YAY), I'm currently working to complete all kinds of end-of-the-semester projects and essays. This means I'll start having more time to myself again (YAY).

So, I started re-reading some books I've enjoyed in the past. Now, let's take a fast trip down memory lane--back to the world of fan fiction.

Yes, I said it.

Fan. Fiction.

Back many, many moons, in my early high school days when Twilight was a sensation, there was a fanfiction I found that was like discovering treasure. It was SO GOOD. But, it wasn't finished at that time so I went on to read other fanfiction, but of course I've never forgotten it.

Years later, when 50 Shades of Grey was published, I did some research and found that a lot of Twilight fanfics were being published. I will say that those fanfics had the most variety, that writers really were able to take characters from the franchise and make them their own. Anyhow, I immediately thought of the story I read so long ago -- originally titled "Emancipation Proclamation" and practically screamed when I saw that it, too, was published under a different name.

Siempre (Forever), by J. M. Darhower.

I have to say that this is one of my favorite books. The writing is so well-done, the characters are enthralling, the story is breathtaking, and the message relayed behind it is so frightening real. Here's the opening to the book, the first bit of writing you, the reader, sees from the author:

I just have to share it with you guys because I think the message behind the fictional story is just so important and happening in our world, right now. Since I can't even put into words how I feel about this book, I'm going to share some reviews with you guys from Goodreads:

(keep in mind that I am in no way profiting from sharing this with ya'll. I just really, really love this book and thought I'd share it)

'Alex is the Romance' shared:

I absolutely loved this book. The title totally stunning…everything about this story is in some way summed up in that title!

It’s Godfather & Cinderella!!
It’s thought-provoking.
It’s about love.
It’s about teenage angst.
It’s about family love.
It’s about loss.
It’s about the challenges in life.
It’s about human slavery, the mafia.
It’s about loyalty.
It’s about sacrifices.
It’s about heartbreak
It’s about murder.

Even after a week, I am still thinking about the story, the writing and the characters.


'Kristin (KC)' shared:

Sempre is not your average feel-good love story. It is a gritty portrayal of various harsh realities and agonizing circumstances. Although my heart broke for the majority of this story, I enjoyed it immensely and found it both inspirational and humbling. I also found a new respect for individuals born into dreadful conditions beyond their control. 


'Christy' shared:

This book captivated me from the beginning. What a story. A story about choices, sacrificing everything for the ones you love, intense true love, throw in some human trafficking/slavery and mafia connections.
It was heartbreaking at times, but I loved the story and loved the characters (Carmine and Haven) it shows sometimes you are born into a certain life and many things are beyond your control, but sometimes two people who appear to come from totally different worlds can have more ties to each other than imaginable. 
I would recommend this book to everyone! Only have good things to say about it!

Cold Brewed Coffee DIY

Hiya guys!

So, I discovered something new...kind of. I thought I'd share this with you guys!

First and foremost, I love coffee. So this post is about...dun dun! COFFEE! Despite popular believe, having an adequate amount of caffeine can not only boost your metabolism, but in effect also aids to burning fat. I only drink a cup of coffee per day though because we all know that having too much of something can make it not as good, am I right?

I hope that makes sense.

Anyhow.

So with there being no transition between spring and summer here in South Texas, the mornings are getting warmer and warmer. Which means that I'm always leaning more towards getting iced coffees at Starbucks or Coffee Waves.

But then I had a thought.

What if I brewed coffee the night before, put it in the fridge, and BAM! Had chilled coffee ready for me in the morning?!

I tried it. After visiting my sister in San Antonio over Spring Break, I came home with the best coffee I have EVER had. It's a dark chocolate roast, and I found it at Williams Sonoma. It is by far my most favorite in the entire world. I'm spoiled now though because it's so flavorful! Anyhow, so I brewed the coffee, making about two cups, and then I let it cool to room temperature. I have a glass carrier thingy that people, I assume, use for milk and orange juice. Well, since I don't really drink either of those, I put the coffee in that, left it in the fridge (once it cooled of course, very important because it's glass), and in the morning I had my own cold brewed coffee! I'm honestly not sure if this is how the professionals do it, but it certainly works for me and tastes delicious. Plus I don't need ice for it, which was my only pet peeve about buying iced coffee because it gets watered down and there tends to be more ice than actual coffee.

If you are a coffee lover like me, I suggest you give this a try because it is so so good!!

What I Eat In a Day...

Hiya lovelies!

So, although I don't weigh myself every week (I do this so I don't get freaked out by numbers), I found out the other day that I have gone down TWO PANT SIZES. I went to Rue 21 over the weekend with some friends, and I tried on those cute denim high wasted shorts--you know, the ones I've never been able to wear because how self conscious I was of my waist? Not only did they fit, but I felt SO GOOD in them! So of course I bought them.

I haven't been this pant size for I don't even know how long. To put it into perspective, I went from being a size 12 for pants (American) to being a size 10.

If you are like me and are working on weight loss, I encourage you not to drive yourself insane by weighing yourself all the time. Your body's weight fluctuates throughout the day anyhow, so if you are going to weigh yourself, do it as soon as you wake up (after you pee). That will give you the most accurate results!

Furthermore, I'm going to post what I'm going to eat today. Yes, I'm one of those people who spends Sunday not only grocery shopping and catching up on homework, but planning out my meals for the upcoming week. As a full time student with two jobs, I have to do this or I'll be running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

That turned morbid real quick, wow.

Anyhow.

Here's what I'm eating for today (I know my calorie intake is low, but I am taking dietary supplements and multi-vitamins to ensure I am getting all the nutrients that my body needs throughout the day. I'll post these later)

Breakfast:

-Scramble eggs (2 eggs, olive oil for nonstick)

-a serving size of peaches (from the lite can)

Lunch:

-1 serving Greek yogurt (vanilla, low-fat) 

-protein pack (with turkey, almonds, and cheese) 

Dinner: 

-lean pork chops

-Green beans 

And maybe for a little treat, I'll have some ice cream...

Healthy Chicken Salad with Grapes and Cranberries

One of my favorite healthy lunches...and this is a great recipe!

Source: https://simple-nourished-living.com/healthy-chicken-salad-with-apples-cranberries/


INGREDIENTS
2½ cups chopped cooked chicken
3 stalks celery, chopped
1 cup chopped apple (about 1 large; I used a Pink Lady and kept the peel because it was organic) OR grapes
¼ cup dried cranberries
½ cup nonfat plain Greek yogurt
2 tablespoons Hellman's light mayonnaise
2 teaspoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons chopped parsley (optional)
Salt and pepper to taste