Friday, February 14, 2014

Baby Back Bitch

Throughout my lifespan,
Hans Solo was the game plan.
There was no need for love, 
When you had a wingman.

Hang loose and groove was what I was used too.
Rampages; like you wouldn’t believe.
Who would’ve known, this wasn’t for me?

It wasn’t apparent; until you.
All it took was just one look.
Oh man it was final; you’re one sexy piece of meat!

To have you, seriously? All to myself?
Let’s just say, I almost pissed…
Myself.

Five years now, I’ve been so lucky.
Hopefully you don’t find me yucky.
Nevertheless, I need you to know
You are my one. Literally,
I’ve hit a homerun!

To be with you, I found a goldmine.  
Oh please,  just say you’ll be my valentine?

Tuesday, December 31, 2013

No Surprise

It’s no surprise I despise you, 
It’s no surprise to advise absolution,
It’s no surprise you ignored the solution,
It’s no surprise to wake up hurt, agonized.
It’s no surprise to feel pain in my mother’s eyes,
It’s no surprise to be left out, only given goodbyes. 

I don’t expect to see things change,
I don’t expect to see you at close range,
I don’t expect to become your friend, honestly your strange.

However, I do demand your respect, remove your profane!
For you to understand the pain,
And why it came.

It was not me or them,
It was you and your games,
Using us as pawns was your picture perfect play,
You picked us wisely, you see
Dividing the kin allowed your side to win.
 
Exploiting your virtues was indeed a sin,
Manipulating persons spirited your rudeness,
How can I repair with pieces so small?
And still you fight for more?

This is not fair at all...

Wednesday, December 18, 2013

You Win

You win, you won, 
There nothing left to take.

Good luck to you and yours. 
Mine is doing just fine.

To forgive a horror is beyond ideal.

Wishful thinking, 
Blissful dreaming, 

For the day.

The day for you is coming. 
No one will see your pain, but me.

To see your discord, oh how will thee!
You must see,

Trepidation is imminent, and bitch so is me.

Friday, July 19, 2013

Looking Back, It's Always Been About Ellen Hopkins

Last night I finished a book by Ellen Hopkins titled, Perfect, and I realized that it doesn’t matter how much I read books by other authors because Ellen will always have my heart. She first touched my soul, mind, and heart when I read Impulse in 2008 and I can remember holding that book, grasping each word, as if she wrote it just for me.

Five years later, I find myself reading the sequel, Perfect, and her words chilled my senses and lifted my soul. I can’t imagine what kind of reader I would be without Ellen Hopkins; it’s knowing that there is an author out there that continuously looks for ways to help her readers experience what they were so scared to admit, teaching us to fight through each struggle by helping others, and finding acceptance in yourself. It has taken a long time to find acceptance in my own being, but knowing that I can find serenity each time I read her words allows me to fall out of my shell and shout.

It’s always been a dream to meet Ellen Hopkins, and last year (September 24, 2012 to be exact) my friend, Sarah, took me to the Rockville Town Library for a book signing. Sarah had found out about the book signing about three hours beforehand and we dropped everything to make this happen. We got there late, and found a seat… I thought I was going to faint. I was shaking as if it that the was the only normal way someone could react to seeing Ellen Hopkins in person, in the flesh, just talking to her readers as if she knew them her whole life. As people began to line-up to get there books signed, I began to feel more nervous than ever. As I held on to Impulse I could see my grip leaving imprints on the cover… I knew I was going to cry, but I wanted to be strong. When my time came, she smiled at us and thanked us for coming. I placed the book down in front on her hands, flipped to the last page, saw the words “…a perfect paper airplane.” and broke down. So horrific with myself; I felt like no words could ever amount to say “thank you” to her. She looked at me with sadness in her eyes, and just hugged me, entirely. Moments go by as I try to finish what I started, and I ask her to sign the last page in memory of my brother. Her pen glides as she starts, and I follow each movement until I read “For Greg, Always Ellen Hopkins 9/12”.

It’s moving knowing that my hands still shake when I re-live moment… so finally I can say, Thank you Ellen Hopkins.



So it’s the morning after finishing another one of her books, and I do the usual of researching every last article about the book, looking through her website, and wishing I didn’t read the book so fast. Now I have to wait until Smoke comes in mail, and it feel like it’s going to be a lifetime to have her words in my hands again. Luckily, I am unmotivated to do anything else but look back at old papers when I remember that last year wasn’t my first interaction with Ellen Hopkins. Back in 2009, I had to write a literary analysis from a biographic or historical perspective and ended up writing about both by using her books as they reveal both life experiences and current events involving young teen issues. I wrote her an email, and she replied that same day.

Below is the paper I submitted. Again, I don’t think I can ever thank you enough.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Cynthia Chaves
English 122
April 28, 2009
FREE VERSE:
Far From Hardly an Embodiment
            "Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested: that is, some books are to read only in parts, others to be read, but not curiously, and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention." stated Francis Bacon. Books amaze the mind and carry thoughts that hide behind and further once to read again. Ellen Hopkins carries traits that crave the mind and shows how things can be encountered. She develops her novels off life experiences and research of actual feeling in young lives in past couple decades. Ellen Hopkins strong approach toward her writing reveals both a biographic and historical relevance from painful life experiences and efforts of research to teenage standpoint.
            Ellen Hopkins has become a famous author for her depictions of life in the current era for young teens. She has written three novels based from her daughter's, Kristina, story of meth addiction and the struggle it brings to the family and friends around her. Ellen Hopkins brings her life experiences into her novels and portrays the similarities of CRANK, GLASS, and IMPULSE.
             In the novel CRANK, Ellen Hopkins's semi-autobiographical verse novel tells a story of her daughter Kristina. Hopkins chronicles the chaotic and often disturbing relationship between Kristina, and vastly addictive drug called the monster also identified as the drug crystal meth. Kristina is introduced to the drug while visiting her nonexistent father during a summer in Reno. She begins to realize her father as a drug addicted parent who lives in a grimy apartment, this where Kristina meets a young boy named Adam. Adam wills soon enough introduce the monster to Kristina, changing Kristina and allowing Kristina to possess an alter-ego named Bree. Bree is separate from Kristina in the ways that Bree is able to do things and not think about the retributions they will bring to Kristina’s existence including invite the attention of deceitful boys. Soon after, her grades plunge, her relationships with family and friends degenerate, and she becomes dependent on the monster just to get through the day.
            Hopkins has stated in several interviews about her experience and the effects it has had on the book. Hopkins states in an interview, “GLASS is the sequel to CRANK, which I started completely for me. Writing from my daughter’s point of view helped me understand the decisions she made and my part in them” (Carter). Discussing that Hopkins’ writing is based on life experiences which she expresses the emotions that writing CRANK was “recreated even more painful memories than the original. Yes, writing it was it was cathartic.” (Carter), which maintains accurate to her interviews with The Trade. Some characteristics that have come from Kristin’s life experience are the reality of her alter ego who demands herself to be called Bree.  "Alone, there is only one person inside. I’ve grown to like her better than the stuck up husk of me. (Hopkins 7), Kristina allows Bree to permeate and set new rules which are devoted by the monster. With the addiction, growing Bree manipulates Kristina and with nothing to lose this alter ego re-emerges as she comes back home only to have left Kristina behind and Bree in her place.
             Hopkins explains how it was dreadful to see her daughter become Bree and states, “Bree was a persona created by Kristina. She became this person when she partied for a couple of reasons. The first was she believed if she got busted they wouldn't know who she really was. The bigger one in my opinion was that it was easier to do things contrary to her belief system by morphing into someone else” (Carter).
The book as a whole vindicates Hopkins’ family and their characteristics, for example in the book, CRANK, Kristina talks about her family and feelings of distance between them. She states that she feel like she has no mother, no step father Scott who is heavy handed, no older sister Leigh caught in uncertain sexuality, no younger brother Jake who is spoiled and shameless, no perfect daughter speaking herself and truth of knowing she is not quite sane on issues (253). 
These characters all hold parallel and imitates to Hopkins' family members, Hopkins may change their names and some traits, but how they interact provides evidence of Ellen Hopkins’ life familiarities as she defines them in her books and explains
CRANK, is based on the author's real experiences of her daughter's drug addiction to methamphetamines. The author's note at the beginning of the book attest to this. The characters are adaptations of real people they knew (or the daughter knew) and real experiences of the family. This must be a way for the family (especially the mother) to vent and heal (Musing for Amusement).
            Once looking through Hopkins experiences of her daughter she then holds another approach toward screening the novels from a historical perspective. She gives ironically fictional, yet true-to-life, glimpses of society’s challenges for the teens of today. Ellen Hopkins' novel has a persistence of the lives of young teens and issues they deal with like suicide. One of Hopkins’s novels, IMPLUSE, in placed in Aspen Springs where three teenagers Conner, Vanessa, and Tony meet due to their suicide attempts (Hopkins).  These characters have been written in sections for each person, so it allows the reader to have an experience to know each side and their story and why they each attempt suicide. Hopkins chooses this topic because of suicidal relations occurring in her area along with common teens everywhere.
            Hopkins did research on this novel based off the small valley where she lived. “My daughter, Kelly, worked in a place like Aspen Springs, so there are threads of true stories... Vanessa in particular is very real to me, as I have a friend who is bipolar and in the past suicidal. I also have a young friend who is a cutter. So thru talking with them, I have been “in the head” of someone who has those problems” (Hopkins. charter). Hopkins’ research is clear with what the Nutrition Health Center has stated that suicide has become the third leading cause of death in young teens and stating that about every hour and forty-five minutes a suicide has taken place in America (Teen Suicide Statistics). The historical claim of this present epidemic advocates suicide is a major issue that Americans ongoing deal within their daily lives.
            Hopkins’s has observed the problems around her and dealing with young teens and she gives persistence to the readers about the situation and what changes you can make to better yourself and others with this condition. Looking through her novels allow people to have a better look into young teens, she has the research and collages of how to understand its reasons that conflict within these teens. The suicide rate has increase 8%, the largest rise in 15 years, and this outbreak is changing history (Teen Suicide Rate). While this has continued Hopkins has developed IMPULSE to communicate toward the lives of suicidal teens and show prospective to how great this has gone partial to causing deaths in young Americans. The consistency that Hopkins uses when alternating the points of view between three characters in the actions between them, she explains in her home page "books are not about the things that happen to…characters, but rather about how those characters react to those things” (Page Title). This is seamless description of Impulse, and how a tragic yet hopeful journey into three optimistic and damaged kids’ cores makes the story easy to follow and become a voice to provide for. Hopkins main thoughts of contributions towards her readers, “I feel it's important to be a voice for people who experience problems like addiction or thoughts of suicide, and hopefully help them realize they're not alone and that there's help if they just go looking for it” (Page Title). Ellen Hopkins proves the fact of current tragedies in young teens in America in current perspective, and to see inside these trouble teens “Act on your impulse, swallow the bottle, cut a little deeper, put the gun to your chest" (Hopkins 4).
            After analyzing Hopkins perspective in her novels CRANK, and IMPULSE can go either way; as a biographic approach or a historical approach. She does so by gathering research of updated topics like suicide and describing novels based off her life experiences like drug addiction. All these notions have a larger purpose; Ellen Hopkins writes to help, however she can. She continues to write these books as her source of help to anyone who is willing to accept it. Once analyzing Ellen Hopkins, it is clear that she claims both topics in her novels and are well defined to assent real life experiences and the current issues in teens.

Works Cited
 Carter, R.J.."Interview: Ellen Hopkins: Sculpting the Words Behind Glass”
 The Trade. September 21, 2007.
Burlee LLC. 22 April 2009. < http://www.thetrades.com/article.php?id=5916>
Centers for Disease Control. "Teen Suicide Rate: Highest Increase In 15 Years." ScienceDaily
8 September 2007. 28 April 2009  <http://www.sciencedaily.com­ /releases/2007/09/070907221530.htm>.
“CRANK.”Musing for Amusement. 23 February 2009.5 May 2009    
 < http://musingforamusement.blogspot.com/2009/02/crank.html>
Hopkins, Ellen. Crank. New York:Simon Pulse, 2004.
Hopkins, Ellen. Impulse. New York:Simon Pulse, 2007
Hopkins, Ellen. 28 April 2009.”Re: please help!” E-mail to author: Cindy Chaves. 28 April , 2009.
Hopkins, Ellen. “Page Title.” SimonSays. 1 May 2009. <http://www.ellenhopkins.com/>


Monday, March 25, 2013

Drenched in Blue



Painted as if it was done by toddlers. Arranged as if the furniture was blotted into the floors. Trinkets linger all around as if their cherished like diamond gold rings. Importance of this room is the stack of chicken scratches all over yellow-lined pads.

Walking into the bedroom, the fish tank is on the right of the door. The light from the tank sprinkles onto the stones and their colors run brightness into the dark blue walls. Directly in front is the bed laying on the floor with a comforter older than the one that sleeps in them with worn out holes from years of sleep.

When lying in the bed, to left of it are piles and rows of books for recreational use and laying on top of those are gently placed yellow-lined pads. Those yellow lines have everything in them. They carry feelings of pain along with accomplishments of moments and persons. They live within these four walls drenched in blue. The yellow-lines come out best when trapped in those blue walls and may only come out of that room when they are ready to be shared by others. To the right of the bed is the nightstand that holds a drawer of memories from years past and pictures of mother dearest when she was young. At the foot of the bed places, a black trunk covered in pointless stickers from events, companies, and bands which was given as a gift five years ago. Not many know what can be found in the trunk, and its meant to stay that way.

This room held up by walls drenched in blue caresses moods that in no way were found before living here. Those moods were never captured until the yellow-lined pads came into possession. They are living words that when spoken are whispered because it was meant for only one person to reflect on and challenge the meanings. To be left in this room is to be left in paradise. My paradise. The way those blue walls come to me and let me see where I am when flipping through the chicken scratches is impeccable. How one person can withstand these moments is lucky. They can live without regret, no lies, no secrets. Just you. No one can judge how you are feeling and only you have the right to question those feelings.

When the middle of night comes and lying on the bed holding yellow-lines close to the chest, I breathe. The smoke hovers over the bed and the light from the tank scatters just enough light to continue to fill those yellow-lines. Within the chicken scratch, words are found and simply put:

Smoke covered room
Disguised in blue walls
In an ownership of books and photos
Only one sleeps here
With one set of thoughts
Thoughts that are not told
Who knows what those thoughts are
Is anyone worrying about these thoughts
Or can they see the thoughts
Floating above her

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Autorecovery

It’s the pressure in my chest, I can’t release. Looking forward while everyone leaps.

What does the meaning of success bring, when you can’t sleep. I’m looking into a future of anxiety that can’t compete.

Am I sure I want to give this my all? Keeping life in the moments of success while others are enjoying their defeats…struggle for accomplishments that don’t embrace. Why now, I can’t write. I wanted to for so long. Now I have the few moments to shout, to sleep … and I’m stuck with notes that don’t beat.

Times like this keep me inside. Inside is a place that is covered in responsibility. That what? I must repeat until more is too much? Much is overloaded, and then what? I’m finished.

I don’t even know what I am trying to get out. I don’t know where I am. Where this is supposed to be. What happens now. Who takes this on?

It’s the onlookers. They watch, and judge and they find ways to grunt your outs. There is no out to search for; it’s only creating more ways to succeed. That’s why I am here. I’m no ones’ out; I’m no one’s excuse. I’m just here for proof. For integrity. For myself.

That’s not to say, I’m not doing this for someone else. I’m scared this is going to take a lifetime to complete, nervous for the next step. Sometimes I want to go back. When things didn’t matter. When time was plentiful.

Maybe I am the onlooker. Jealous of them. Jealous of their courage. Or wrecked at the thought that I can’t stop. Because if I do, I don’t know where to go.

Bouncing from thought to thought doesn't explain who I am. I’m not trying to, because then I would have answers. Who wants answers to that…then you will always be stuck with them. I don’t want to become stuck with one purpose. I want millions. I want to have ways to escape into a different world and not have to face the consequences. If I am answered, then I have nothing to look forward to.

Reading it out loud is horrifying. Sounds like blue is pouring out. But I thought it was going to be motivational. Keep the forward steps out. Or what if I am pressuring myself to stay back. I know this can’t be right, because I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be shaking, I wouldn't be afraid.

Time is contiguous. It’s trapped the world inside milestones. Not counting those moments when time escapes you. When you find out that time is the only thing pushing you. You have to finish in time, because you don’t know how much you have. Making us feel like we need to jump into a world and fast track where we didn't take the chance. But chance is only that moment in time when you had to make a choice and you couldn't decide. What will be the best for you? What will make your life special?

Special is that moment in your life that you become who you are based from someone else’s. That moment has happened but that doesn't mean it defines the contour of where I stand.

For brief instance, I thought this was gone. Not life, but that thing you keep trying to find. I searched everywhere for it, I was going to start ramping off into an oblivion. But there is such a thing call autorecovery. 

Monday, October 8, 2012

MIA for others, Venerating for me

It was this weekend. Just me. I adored it, want more of it. It was the pleasure of not talking to anyone, ignoring the world. I had all the time to waste and no one to answer to. It’s simple to do, but guilty to answer to.

Looked upon as if it’s poignant, but it’s what saves me. The cold chill of rain, enclosed by my smile and cherishing the moments of solitude. I wouldn’t ask for anything more. I hate answering. Disrupting what time I have, to be spent on things that don’t enforce my person…Right now, it doesn’t want anything but me.

The yellow lines, unreadable print, challenging my feelings. Attractive, to see feelings spelled out against the yellow lines. You cannot hind from those; seeing them scratched alongside of you. The music filling the chill as it was swallowing me whole. There was no torture in feeling those lines, it was remembering the time when it was harder to breathe. Now, its answering to how this came about. What happened to those feelings, they are not surrounding the same things. Is it a new thought, a gesture of what’s to come.

Or more simply, just repeating the same feelings in other words. Describing another viewpoint from what was already said. It’s funny to think what people might actually think of you, honestly, it’s thought about all the time until it’s just me and those yellow lines. So for now, I take what I can and invent excuses to leave things as I want them to be.

Just me, I adored it, want more of it. Cover me in yellow lines. Chill me in daunting music. To see an ideal concept, alone in yellow lines. 

Bringing me alone to the place the reveals me, its like a child's kingdom, promises that need to be kept. Keep me just as I am.