?

Log in

Recent Entries Friends Archive Profile Tags To-Do List
 
 
 
 
 
 

Jimena could eat green peppers all day long. We were supposed to be making a classic family dish but she was too preoccupied eating my ingredients. “Stop eating the food,” I snapped at her as I chopped the onions into thin strips. Jimena looked up and frowned. “But they’re so yummy. Why don’t you eat one?”
            I huffed. “Because I need those for my dish. Now stop; there’re only four left and I need them all.” I snatched the peppers out of mi hermana’s hands and set them on my cutting board, ready to chop them up.
            Jimena sighed and leaned against the multi-colored tile counters, resting her head in her hand. “Why do we have to cook anyway? Shouldn’t las tías be cooking for mamá?” I eyed my sister and cocked my eyebrows. You’re so lazy, I thought. Jimena never wanted to do any of the work; she just wanted to reap the rewards. She wasn’t even doing anything now except stuffing her face.
“Stop whining,” I snapped. “And do something useful for a change; bring some eggs and scramble them, eh?” But Jimena sighed and looked away, ignoring me completely.
            “Do you think mamá will be happy with this gringo?” Jimena asked me. I looked up from my onions and peppers and shrugged my shoulders.
“I think so; he is a very nice man and he seems to love mamá very much. Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering what you thought.” Jimena seemed preoccupied with her thoughts as she spoke. I glanced at her a moment longer and then returned to my cutting board.
“Do you dislike him?” I asked her nonchalantly. My sister turned to me and ran her fingers through her long honey-colored hair.
“I don’t know,” she said. “He’s kind of stuck up and he likes to flaunt his money a lot.” I smiled at my sister.
“He doesn’t flaunt his money; he’s very humble. Why would you think that?”
“He’s just snobby in my opinion; not good for mamá.” Jimena finally grabbed some eggs and cracked them into a medium glass bowl.
            I couldn’t help but smile. “Jimena, you only think that because you feel threatened by him; you’ve never had to share mamá before and I think you’re just making up excuses. Richard is a very nice man; you’d like him too if you got to know him.”
            “How would you know?” My sister spat. “You don’t live here so how would you know? You only see him once in a while; I see him everyday!”
I was amused that I had upset my sister so much and couldn’t help but laugh at her; she began to flush. “Stop laughing; you’re just being stupid so don’t talk about stuff you don’t know about.” Jimena left the kitchen in a rage and left me to do all the cooking by myself. Lazy cow, I thought.
They were all the same, I decided. My peppers seemed to me identical in size and shape so I could not tell them apart. I grabbed three of the four and began to chop them into tiny cubes along with some red peppers. The last I saved for my sister because I knew she would come back in soon, unable to get past the tias and their nagging words: “You should be cooking with Yajaida, vaca florja! Now, go back into the kitchen and finish the meal!” That’s exactly what my aunts would say to her. And she would stomp back in here and ignore me as we cooked, but then try to strike up a conversation.
I finished cutting the vegetables and the beef and poured them into my skillet, smiling as the sweet sizzle filled my ears and my nostrils absorbed the enticing scent.
 Stir-fry was mamá’s favorite and my specialty. She had taught me at a young age how to cook and I picked it up quickly, cooking for her and my little sister, Jimena. But my cooking was more than just a hobby; I became obsessed with food. I would make classic dishes like lasagna and baked chicken, and experimental dishes like my infamous Grilled Peanut Butter Tortillas.
I wanted to go to University and study the culinary arts and mamá could have never afforded me to go if Richard had not helped. He was a very generous man and I always liked him but my sister, for some reason, never did. She thought he was a stupid gringo trying to prey on our poor mother but she was only jealous of him. She could not see how sweet and how gentle he was but I did not expect her to; she was still only fourteen.
I looked up as someone came through the kitchen door. My sister frowned at me and went back to the eggs, scrambling them in the bowl with a fork. I smirked and laughed inside. I knew she wouldn’t get far with the aunts here.
Jimena looked at me several times as I smiled and continued to ignore her, focusing on my stir-fry. I knew she wanted to say something but refused to be the first to speak. I glanced at her and she quickly looked away, pretending to be busy.
I finished my stir-fry and took the skillet off the stove.
“Get me the plate, please,” I asked her. She registered my request and handed me the large tin platter.
            I had decorated it with corn chips, vegetables, melted cheese, chicken wraps, and tortillas. In the center lay a corn chip bowl and I poured the stir-fry into it, using the spatula to get it all in.
            “You need the skillet?” I asked my sister. She nodded and took it, pouring her eggs into it and setting it on the stove. I gave a few more touches to the massive pile of food and set it in the center of the dining table.
            I went to the cupboards and set the table with bright neon plastic bowls and cups and snatched the napkins and silverware, setting them as well. I turned to my sister, who had finished the eggs, and she handed me the skillet with a smile and allowed me to do my magic.
            I sprinkled the scrambled eggs on top of the stir-fry and placed the skillet in the sink.
Gracias.” I told her and she nodded.
Cena!” I yelled and grinned at my sister as we heard everyone make their way to the kitchen.
            As I expected, the aunts were first to enter, pushing each other to find a good spot. Mi mamá came in next—Richard assisting her—her hand on her round, pregnant belly. Richard eased her into a pillow-topped seat and he kissed her cheek softly. I couldn’t help smiling and glanced at my sister; she hadn’t noticed the sweet gesture.
            I waited for everyone to be seated before I came behind my mother and ran my fingers through her long raven hair. She looked up at me with a pretty smile and rubbed my arm.
“Thank you for cooking, muñeca; it looks wonderful.” 
Before I could answer, my sister piped in, “I helped too!” My mother took my sister’s hand into her own. “I know, thank you too.” She kissed my sister’s forehead.
            I grinned and walked back to the counters, snatching the last green pepper and sat down next to my sister. I placed it on top of her tiny mountain of food and winked at her. She smiled back.
 
 
 
 
 
 
If I could live forever as a human (no mythological creatures here!) I would work non-stop on improving myself. Just because my body won't age doesn't mean I can't still evolve as a human being.

I would exercise my body by taking on a healthier life style and eating better (I do eat right now but still) and allow the simple pleasure of softness and beauty to cradle me.

I would exercise my mind by learning everything I could about all the things that interest me and I would probably go to many different colleges to find what best suits me, where I feel I belong.

I would exercise my soul by making that terrifying jump of soicalizing with others and allow myself to be spirited away in friendships and romances. And even though they may age and eventually die, I would try very hard not to mourn them but thank them for the impact they had on me while they were here.

Living forever doesn't have to be a repetitive abyss that someone goes crazy in; instead of being reborn, I can try to evolve in this one lifetime and reach the ultimate happiness of acceptance and peace.

If I could live forever, my soul would never stop growing.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Burning candlelight
You dance across the white walls
Scaring the shadows

Black and white beauty
I gaze at your photograph
And know you loved me


Yellow eyes that stare
I feel them piercing through me
They know my true soul

Creamy pink and fine
The sweet pea nutures my skin
And kisses my lips

Messy paint strokes glide
Across the whole universe
Making twilight's stars


 
 
 
 
 
 

Well, I've heard (well, not heard) a lot about Livejournal so I figured I'd see what the big deal was. I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised by how truly wickedly awesome it is! I never really liked MySpace even though I have an account to begin with. MySpace is severely over-rated. Anyways, as my first entry...BAM! Abra kadabra! I love it. I plan to post my work on here soon. Totally diggin' it.
And that's all there is, there isn't anymore.