Crossover...

Same Sh*t, Different Place...


http://therapsheet.tumblr.com/

I Started A Joke

I've come to the conclusion that I'm just an angry person. Not in the aspect of "I hate this world," no in fact I think the world's intricacies are absolutely beautiful. My anger stems from tragedies that seem to unfold in front of me. I've learned though that anger doesn't fair well in social circles which is why I've subconsciously taught myself to channel my anger through jokes.

For example, this winter break my mother kept asking "What smells?" and I would (what I thought was clever) respond with "Maybe it's your upper lip." Yes that may have been mean and rude but my mother understands my humor (though that still may not be a legitimate excuse) and ultimately I was just metaphorically trying to say that maybe we should take less time finding the problem within our surroundings and finding the solution within our own physical frame. (I find it a tragedy that we don't do this more often).

This all plays into the idea that I view life as a tragic comedy. There are some things that are so sad that the only human emotion left to portray that sadness is in fact laughter. I could explain this view in more detail but I'd rather have you try to understand why I believe that responding with "Maybe it's your upper lip" may be one of my most favorite lines I've ever said.

Perhaps as I experience more of this world my view of life will change, I just hope that I don't wake up one day realizing that as the Bee Gee's once sang that the joke I started was in fact on me.
-Ryann

"The life of every individual, viewed as whole and in general, and when only its most significant features are emphasized, is really a tragedy, but gone through in detail it has the character of a comedy..."- Schopenhauer

Life Goes On...

Sometimes you "just know." There are times when you can render no reason for an instinct that pounds at your being and begins to grip your heart tightly but you know that it reflects truth. I can recall the moment so vividly when last year I sat in the backseat of the yellow taxi driving to the airport following my 3 week trip to Mexico and suddenly my eyes began to swell up and single drops of tears began to fall down my cheek. I knew from that moment that I would never see my grandmother alive again.

Sadly, last week my instinct became truth. The woman that I had thought to be invincible, my grandmother, the lady who lived with one lung and was as fierce as a hawk had passed away. Of the 5 great-grandparents I had the privilege to meet she was the last to pass away and perhaps the one I had gotten to converse with the most.

She never knew this but for the past couple of years I have had a picture of her and myself when I was younger in a small frame sitting on top of my dresser. Whenever I'm studying and exhausted and need a little strength to go on a little longer, to work a little harder, I look up at the picture and instantly feel inspired. To me my grandmother represents a subset of people who never had the opportunity to experience the world beyond that of which they were born into. My people. One day I hope to be a bridge that can introduce others to oceans and forests of knowledge and understanding beyond the sea's and small tree's they are used to. I want to create opportunities of social mobility to the same people my grandmother represents.

While I may never see my grandmother alive on this earth again, it would be wrong of me to say that a part of her wouldn't be alive and resurrected every time my eyes glance at that picture of us sitting on top of my dresser. So maybe I'm wrong, maybe she is alive. Alive in the inspiration she feeds me every time I hunger for strength to continue working hard towards my goals.

Even in Death, Life Goes on for Baudelia Valadez Villalobos.

So Far To Go...

 Confidence. It's been a reoccurring theme as of late. Several people have asked me in just the past week alone, Do you feel more confident in yourself?

I've found this question to be slightly alarming because I had never put much thought into it before. If you read everyone of my report cards from elementary school until whenever teachers stopped commenting on report cards you would find that each one of them wrote the same thing. Something to the effect of "Ryann is a smart young lady and a joy to have in class but she needs to speak up and have more confidence in her work."

While different opportunities in college have allowed me to gain confidence in myself I have yet to be fully confident in my work. Perhaps thats because my work and what I create is an extension of myself. I can control what people see from me as a person, I can try to control how they interpret it, and perhaps in their mannerisms/actions observe their opinions but once I put my work out I no longer have control. Any opinions/interpretations are restrained within the walls of the other persons brain and the only glimpse I get is what they choose to share.

Maybe I shouldn't care in how I pertain to others but I do and I can't really explain it. I know I've come along way even in the two years I've been here at UCSD but boy do I have So Far To Go.
...

Here is a little something I wrote. Hopefully I can build confidence in my work and expand my willingness to share it with the public.

Virtue 

To say that the virtue and evilness inside peacefully coincide is a far cry from the truth

They live in a divide, an apartheid, and one is about to die hung from a noose

They say it is I who has to decide whose to be denied of life beyond its youth

And what’s upsetting, is not saying goodbye to one of the two, but accepting that it took me longer than a blink of an eye to choose

-Ryann

Selfish...

I made a promise long ago...

The bus has never been my friend and in fact let me be frank even after all these years riding up and down the busy streets I still loathe and scoff of even hearing the mere words...public transportation. 

Perhaps the most frequent conversation I've ever had with my grandma centers around the question, When is the bus coming? Though I was young I will never forget the days I spent on the bus with my grandma, half interested in the people that would hop on and half scared that someone would try and rob us. If you would have told me at the age of 6 I could have one wish, I probably would have wished that my gma would learn how to drive and could afford a car. While I will always treasure the time we got to spend together it doesn't change the fact that I hate the bus.

Córrele Chata! is what she would always say to me when the bus was about to leave us. So there I go running my little heart out to catch the bus because God knows it was either run or sit in the blistering heat for the next one. 

I made a promise long ago that when I grew up and had my own car I would never make my grandma take the bus as long as I could help it. It’s seems though that now I’ve extended this promise to include friends as well, which is why I refuse to let anyone take the bus if I have room for them in my car. Ultimately, I’ve realized that while making good on this promise and driving people around may seem honorable and is conducted under good intentions, I’m still only acting with selfish desires, the desire to fulfill my own promise. I ask myself, should this stop me though?

Btw, yes I do in fact take public transportation to school everyday. Sigh. Unfortunately, I hate UCSD parking more than I hate the bus.