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Good day!

Goodness, it's been so long since I've last been on this site! After this I should check out my blogspot to see if it's still alive, ohohoho!

How are you all? (: Most likely you won't even be reading this because I don't have it linked to my fictionpress profile, but it doesn't matter!

I'm just here to do a quick in and out ;D

Scariest Moment of my Life

So, yesterday I went to the Federal Court building in order to try and remove myself from jury duty since school started and I have no time for that. Luckily, because of my classes, I was able to be fully excused from it. Because my dad dropped me off this morning, I had to wait for my mom to pick me up and she had to drive about a couple miles and take two different freeways. (I'm assuming cause I suck at driving on the highway LOL :D) Anyways, I exited the building, sat outside and waited for my mom. The weather was cool but warm, so I chilled there.

This man approached me (wearing gray sweats, shirts, full-on beard and mustache) and asked me for the time in Spanish. In my broken, heavily English-accented Spanish, I replied 10:30am. He then started to talk to me and then it hit me. This guy looked weird. Not physically, but he kept smiling and glancing behind me. I then realized that this guy could possibly be an accomplice to a kidnap of anyone: which at the moment could plausibly be me.

And throughout the whole time, which felt like forever but was about five to ten minutes, he glanced around weirdly, continuing to say his name, telling me to repeat a few Spanish phrases, mentioning how well my accent was (which was horrid) and shit like that. He also kept touching my hands, shaking them, and placing his hands on my face, touching my eyebrows which he found fascinating for some odd reason. I showed my discomfort and moved away, but he kept moving forward. It was gross and a complete horrifying situation I had ever been in.

Even if I was fucking terrified, I didn't show it at all.

I called my mom while nodding every so often and smiling politely (which was the stupidest thing to do, don't do it at all!), desperately trying to get some sort of excuse to walk away fast and get back into the building I was in. She didn't pick up, my sister didn't pick up but luckily my mom's trusted friends did pick her phone, but didn't last long because she was still at work. My sister called back, and I immediately went to a break.

God bless their soul, I asked the security workers inside the building if I can go inside because there was "a creepy guy following me" and I was scared. Inside when one walks inside the building, it's marble floored, the inside circular and it leads to the metal detectors and a couple of guards standing in the inside of the front desk. It was basically a mini-airport with no seats and chairs until one is inside. The two guards allowed me to go through and sit where I was sitting with the rest of the people who was selected to possibly go to jury duty.

And when I went into the room where all the jury's were held (which was pretty huuuuge!), all the regressed emotions I was supposed to feel when that scary creep approached me flooded me when I was away from danger. My eyes teared up, my hands were trembling hard, and I was breathing quickly.

I always thought that I'd be able to take care of myself. Words of me being 'naive', 'innocent' and 'ignorant' from my mother used to throw me in complete anger and frustration. But now I know that those words are true. I never had to dealt with those kind of situation because my parents would deal with them for me.

So, kids, listen to your mother, because regardless of how it's said, how you interpret those words, it's all true. Especially you girls! We are at a higher risk than men. Small boys and girls are at risk, too. Keep safe and don't do what I did.

Go somewhere with a lot of people (mainly officers or people of service) and avoid the obvious weird people. I could have been kidnapped, raped, beaten or anything. But I thank god that I was next to the federal court. I almost ventured far to go on a mini-adventure before getting picked up, but man, oh man.

So, people, be careful! Don't make the same mistakes I did, which was:

1) Respond to him when he asked for time.

2) Half-assed running away because I was being polite.

3) Letting him touch my face (even as much as I hated it) because I didn't know what the hell to do.

4) Staying too long conversing even as uncomfortable as I was due to being "polite"

Don't do it! Be safe and take care. Use your instincts and pay extra attention to them!


Goodness, I haven't posted in god knows when, haha. It's been truly such a long time that I, myself, don't know when was the last date I've posted here. Fear not, fellow readers! I haven't not discontinued any stories!

Nowadays, there's so much things going on that I don't have time to write at all. Don't fear, because I'm putting at least small input into the stories one by one, but it'll take awhile for a decent chapter to come out anytime soon.

Currently, I'm working on "My Wolf Boy". I should be updating "Moonlight and Roses" first, but that wolf just cried to me and I just had to continue the next chapter, haha. It's going pretty good so far. All I need is a little more before I can actually post it. C:

BY THE WAY: I have another website which I will be posting on about information of each story, future stories/ideas and some little things about me, haha. You can find out small little trinklets of me (: The website is:



The Reason for the Lack of Updates

For those fellow readers, I am sorry to say but the updates won't be coming any time soon, as I suspect. It isn't because I lost the will or inspiration to write. I love writing with everything.

I lost my USB.

And I can't just quickly rewrite everything, because my USB had EVERYTHING. It had the next chapters, ideas, new stories, essays, poems, pictures, etc (crap). Now that I can't find it, I am too royally piss to type anything but this to warn you guys. The updates won't come up until I find my USB. And I really do hope it's soon. If it does take longer than necessary, then I will start again; depending on my mood and how I feel about it. Because it is quite devastating to lose it. And the worst case was that I didn't misplace it! My baby cousins visited while I was out and totally destroyed my room.

I'm utterly depressed and pissed off ):

Well, that ends the note. Hopefully, I'll find it and get back on track! (: If not...I don't really know what'll happen ):

Parents and Birth Control Pills

Do you think parents have a right to know if their teenager is taking birth control pills? What are the potential consequences of requiring parental consent? By: ch3riblossom

My saying is that: The only way you're having sex is if and only if you're responsible.

Personally, my parents didn't talk about sex. The only way I really got information was from Junior High (with the sex ed class) and the internet (out of pure curiosity). I felt that my mother maybe felt embarrassed about it or she felt that it was useless talking about it if I wasn't to commit such an act. My father didn't bother with it because maybe he felt it was my mother's responsibility to converse about such things. The only thing I remember my father saying is that there are boys out there that crave for a particular thing from a relationship. That and if I were ever to get pregnant (unplanned), I was to live off with the boyfriend's/whoever's family.

Teenagers, when they hit puberty, of course and naturally, gain the curiosity about sex. Their hormones sexually charge up to a point where pleasure felt good to pass up. Protection is needed to avoid unplanned pregnancy.

I believe a parent doesn't need to have the right to know IF the female has enough knowledge about how to handle intercourse along with the use of protection. If the parents scream, shout and fight with the girl, confiscating the birth control pills, then that is not what the girl needs. A child/teenager has one mindset. If told no, they do the opposite despite warnings and consequences. And to miss one day of the birth control is horrible. With one day missed, the eggs are set back and ready to be fertilized.

If the parents does have the right to know, I should assume that they would offer as much advice and suggestion (about protection) to their youngster. Even the conversation about sex and virginity and the importance of it is much more valuable than the red-face, veins-pulse, tendons-burst and open mouth of fury and rage.

But at the same time, parents should be cautious about their child's sex-life. As the same to the daughter with her's. Because, in truth, who wants their daughter to be chained down due to irresponsibility by an unwanted pregnancy? And to have their daughter go through the decision of abortion, adoption or of keeping. After such a fatal, permanent mistake, the same daughter shall not be the same and will go through adulthood much faster than thought.

Are we still considered Human?

I was on yahoo, looking through the reports when one caught my interest.

A homeless man was stabbed, laying in front of an apartment building, bleeding to death and no one did a thing for him. Seven people walked by; some gawked and others glanced. One even flipped the body over, looked at the blood and left. Honestly, what the hell? Seriously, after reading this article, I was fuming with anger. Not just anger at ignorance, but immense fury to society. The seed of mistrust amongst us has grown to a point where no one is willing to help a hand. What happened to the world that we walk past each other with such little . Just reading about this report of the Guatemalan immigrant (who passed away) made me want to cry. He was stabbed to death from the act of trying to help a woman. She and the murderer ran from the scene and left him to die. He extended his help. What about him? Honestly, did he deserve this?

Maybe the people held a fear or didn't want to get involved. But why not call the police from a cellphone or one of those phone booths. It can help save a life. Unfortunately, it was too late for him.

The sorrow in this tragedy and the coming of the world is heavy. People everywhere is nefariously clouded with judgment and hatred. We are told to look at the positiveness of the world, but how can we if all we hear is about blood, sweat and tears? The miracles of life is overpowered by the shadows of danger, despair and hatred.

I may be naive, but I look at everyone with a smile until proven with negativity. I grew up with the ideology to consider others before considering myself. I offer a smile, because I myself know that it makes others feel better just at the sight of it. Small conversations also help others, because who knows if they really, really need it. There is a limit, and I have a sense of what to say and when to stop.

I wish everyone would avoid ignorance and walk towards right, but everyone's conscience and perspective of 'what' is different as their birthdays. I cannot expect everyone to be the same.

I wish that the world can be safe and forever happy, but like black and white, it must be balanced; not overtaken.

Roxie the Cantankerous Saint

Ain't she a sweetheart? (:

This here is my three and a half month old toy Chihuahua. I've heard from around that there's no such thing as a 'toy' or 'teacup' breed. But when I look at this small girl, I can't help but believe in the breed. She's hardly taller than my computer screen. (And way smaller than Nabi.) I'm assuming she's pure from what the previous owners has said, but the thing I love about this chick is that she doesn't have the bulgy eyes or the enormously huge head, haha. But she has HUGE ears (; She always have this worried face as if she had committed a crime. The only crime she attempts is to pee on the carpet or to even steal our socks! She has an obsession about stealing socks from the ground.

As it is in every Chihuahua's nature, Roxie is a stubborn jackass. Many dog owners tell me to show domination by placing her on her back, but she refuses to show her belly. Her head would move from side to side and try biting onto our hands till we are red with frustration. When we would take her out on walks, we have this pink harness that goes over her head and then around her sides. She hates anything that needs to go over her head.

Those are the only negative sides to her. Other than that, she can be a sweetheart <3

Everyday, when I come home and it's been hard, I would feel refreshed just seeing her greet me at the door. Her ears would go flat against her skull and her tail would wag with no restraint on her excitement. When I see that part of her, I feel every ounce of stress in my body leave. She loves to stand and place her paws on my legs, pawing as if asking me to pick her up. Whenever she sees me putting on a jacket or change clothes, she would follow me anywhere, knowing that I'm about to go somewhere: with her or without.

When we take her outside, she changes images quick. In the house she's a Bengal tiger, outside she becomes a meek mouse. One thing I want to do with her is socialize her with the other dogs. What i realize is that Roxie becomes very shy around other dogs. She doesn't bark at them. She'll stand still, stare at them until they come close. Once they're close enough, she'll either be brave (which is rarely) and confront them or she'll dart around my feet and avoid them. Around people, she becomes shy, too. If you pet her, she'll sniff at your hand, but if she becomes too uncomfortable around you, she'll grunt or growl. But she'll never bite you. She only bites other dogs when playing and she only bites us, which we really need to fix.

Her biting, I've heard, is caused by teething. She needs to chew on things to get rid of that itch. We bought a rubber chicken thigh for her which she loves to chew on. Now, she likes to nibble on our hands. But if you play too rough with her, she bites harder because of the excitement.

Because we don't have a crate for her, we bought her a small bed. From time to time, she would go and sleep there during the day. It was either her bed or next to window where she can take a small sunbath, haha. But during the night she refuses to sleep in the bed. She wants to sleep right next to me. The first time we went through this ordeal, I freaked out. I was worried that I was going to squish her, kill her or even roll over her. But as the days go by, noticing that she curls up by my side, I felt comfortable with this. But nowadays, she likes to sleep underneath the blanket and pressed up against my side (right under my arm and next to my chest). Because the days get cold, I would place a blanket over her in sympathy. Now I somewhat regret it, haha. Every night before the lights go out, she would paw at the blankets, demanding me to let her go under.

Though most Chihuahua's are very talkative, this one isn't. She can growl and grunt, but when it comes to barking--it's a rare case. There was a point when she would bark when locked in a room all alone, but I used the squirt bottle to prevent that from continuing. Now, she doesn't mind being cooped up in a room for a while. But when it comes to a very long time, she gets anxious and does a small, soft, baby-like pitiful howl that makes a smile crack over my face and squeal over the cuteness of it. Roxie is the most adorable Chihuahua I've ever come to know. I'm just darn lucky to own her (;

The Horrific Tale of Poseidon and Orange

I never thought you could kill something twice: but you can.

Nabi, the stray cat who became the adequate cat, contained the natural affection to fishes as any cat out there would. During the day, whenever she can, Nabi would sit near the fish bowl. Her eyes would be huge, concentrating on every movement as the fishes sway back and forth. I never noticed these actions until Poseidon and Orange died a tragic deal.

I left Nabi inside the house as I went to go pick up my younger sibling from school. The cat had been outside whole day, rushing up the stairs to be fed. I had done this over and over again: leaving her inside the house unattended. She has done nothing, and nothing was out of place. Until that day.

I came back home, cooing at Nabi as she was near the door, meowing innocently to be let out. I placed the keys near the counter and immediately went in a bee-line to the laptop. My sister had placed her books on the counter and told me how the floor, stool and counter was wet. I had previously done the dishes, so I dismissed the situation. That is until I walked down the hallway to see something lying on the ground near the mirror. Curious, (I thought it was a crayon at first) I walked up to the orange object, behind down to relive the horror. I bent down to find my 2-year-old adorable fish, Poseidon, with its face half-eaten away. There were blood splotched on the white carpet, showing that this was a murder case.

When I went to the fishes bowl, the second fish wasn't there.

Usually, one wouldn't express such sadness when a fish dies. I did not cry, but that does not mean that I felt depressed. I had these two fishes for 2 years. And they weren't just ordinary cheap 25 cent goldfishes. They were the brave, "FEED ME" goldfishes. When someone drew near, the two goldfishes would swim up to the surface with such excitement. If I can describe their face, it would be like this: 8D "FEED ME!" Poseidon was the bigger out of the two. He was able to swim up to the surface and do a small jump so that his head was pop out of the water. Orange, the smaller out of the two, would follow your finger if you placed it on the exterior of the plastic bowl and move it around. These two fishes died a tragic death.

I knew that if my parents ever found out, I would also die a tragic death. Especially from the hands of my mom. Quickly, I told my sister about the incident who flared up with anger towards Nabi. I told her how I would drive to PetSmart, after I picked up my brother from school, and buy two fishes similar to Poseidon and Orange. Though the cat had been the one to eat the fishes, it was my fault. I left the fishes around danger. It was also in a cat's nature to kill a moving object: to kill to tend to their hunger.

As my sister had to clean up the mess, I drove to the school and then to PetSmart. My brother and I searched through the tank to find a fish that would represent a substitution for Poseidon and Orange. Poseidon had a unique red mark on the back of his head. It was just an oval-like circular object that went down the back of his head. Though I couldn't find it, I bought a Poseidon-clone and Orange-clone. My brother had fell in love with this HUGE goldfish that had black markings running along the body and fins. A small mustache-like mark rested above the ginormous goldfish's upper lip. My brother named the titanic 5-inch long goldfish Luigi. He claims it was love at first sight.

The same day I went to the library with my siblings to study. We studied for about four hours and drove back home around 8:30PM. As I walked up the stairs, I noticed Nabi was outside and narrowed my eyes at the cat. I didn't have a chance to avenge Poseidon and Orange's death. But it was too late. When an animal has done something "wrong" (in human terms), we cannot punish the culprit hours later, because an animal will not realize what they have done or know why they are receiving beatings/punishment. Therefore, when you catch the pet at the act of "wrong-doings", punish them at the spot. I grudgingly pet the cat. My sister had knocked the door. It opened and Nabi almost went inside when my mother came out: a towel held up over her head to hit the cat. Luckily, Nabi quickly streaked away and hid behind the plants. Questionably, I peeked inside the house and to the counter to find the fishbowl empty. My eyes landed on the floor to find my father cleaning it with Clorox.

The verdict was given: Nabi killed Poseidon-clone, Orange-clone and Luigi.

My brother had wanted to buy a tank for Luigi himself and care for the gigantic fish. But when he noticed a trash bag near his feet with dark objects inside, the dream was gone. He did a comedic upraise of his arms and bellowed to the ceiling. But he didn't mourn for Luigi for too long because we did not own the fish for a day. But I felt a bit of sadness: we bought Luigi to be killed. And since he was the biggest out of the three, I felt that Luigi must've still been alive as Nabi ate him.

My mother and father had gone out to eat Rubios and left Nabi inside the house. I did not tell them about the previous incident, because I had not want my mother to permanently kick out the cat. Because Nabi had never given an ounce of attention to the fishes, we had thought that they would be safe. My mother had kicked Nabi out of the house for five days as punishment. She was about to go on for a long time until we heard some yowling outside. It was a terrible yowl, full of anger, rage and pain. I hurried to the door, but was blocked because my mother and sister were blocking the entrance, interested as I. At first, I thought someone was abusing Nabi, so I wanted to run outside and save her. But then I peeked over my sister's head to see a huge--HUGE shadow moving away from the scene as Nabi ran up the stairs. There was another cat who felt that this area was their "territory". Because of the huge cat, my mother permitted Nabi to stay inside for the rest of the time. Nabi had encountered the big grey cat once again last week. My brother had heard the yowling and went outside to find Nabi hiding in the bushes near the house. The grey cat hissed and walked closer to the Nabi, intending to do some damage. My brother threw a rock near the cat and ran towards the cat, screaming and waving his hands in the air. If there was a 6'1 thing chasing me with a maniac expression and a deep, roaring voice, I would be scared too.

In the end, we bought two more fishes: Moby Dick and Kujo. Another three-inch, orange with black markings, goldifsh who knows how to jump out of the fishbowl (which is excruciatingly painful) and a demon Shibuko (I don't know the actual name, but it's close to that lol), white with orange splotches, fish who loves to swim in fast circles. Whenever one of us are cleaning the bowl, Kujo is the main troublemaker who dodges the hands and fish net. It's impossible to catch that small bastard, haha. Kujo's hood of each eyes is different colors: red and blue. It makes him live up to his name as a Stephen King's character.

From this incident we learned a valuable lesson: buy a squirt bottle and an actual fish tank.

R.I.P - Poseidon, Orange, Poseidon-clone, Orange-clone and Luigi

Feathers: The Meaning of a Fragile Life

So, about a week ago (on a Sunday) I had gone to the library. (to study of course :D) As I walked through the doors, something small and brown whizzed by my feet. But as soon as I turned around, it was gone. I stayed inside the warm, heat-provided building for about three to four hours: working on torturous math and typing away small parts for each chapter of my stories. As I had finished, I walked out of the automatic sensory doors to hear a small chirp. Amazing, right? I bet. This wasn't just any friendly tweet and twitter. It was a small, weak pitiful cry. Curious, I looked around and couldn't find anything. There wasn't a tree nearby, which caused me to question my mentality. As I walked past a trashcan, I heard it again. Slowly and cautiously, I peeked inside a trashcan to find a small, pathetic-looking baby bird inside. She (assuming the gender) was shivering, tilting her head sideways to stare at some ginormous shadow towering over her. (laugh insert) I took her out and looked around, trying to find a nest nearby and place the small bird near the trunk of the tree.

There was absolutely nothing. No birds, no cries. It was just some homeless person laughing at me twirling around in circles, the quivering bird, depressing dark clouds and me. Nothing else.

I cupped the bird in my hands and melted when she immediately fluffed her feathers. She was trying to make my warm hands her temporary nest. Me, being the MILD animal rights activist, I sped to my car. I stayed there for over a half an hour, thinking about what to do with this little friendly creature as she warmed up. She didn't speak/chirp at all.

Cute, small little thing she was: brown, black beak, very small compared to the average sparrow. But what was very special about her was the intricate designs at each corner of her beak. It looks like the border of the top half a circle with a dot within the center of the half circle. I tried to identify her, but couldn't.

That day I spent two hours driving around. I went to PetSmart and they refused the bird. It wasn't in their 'contract' to take any strays inside. Instead, one of the workers gave me a number that helped those wildlife animals and restore them back into their natural surroundings. I called the number and they gave me directions: into the freeway. One thing you should know about me is that I am an INEXPERIENCE driver. I loathe the freeway. Yes, you can speed and it's all a one way. But that one wide, open road can also mean ill-tempered people and idiots. I have gone once (thank god it was empty) around 4:30AM to drive to the beach. It was the scariest moment of my life. One day, I'll drive on the freeway (possibly next wed) and embrace the cruelty of the road. Until then, I'm safe on the streets. So, I ditched that idea and drove to a small animal hospital around the corner called Noah's Ark. What I was trying to do was walking inside with a big smile, place the bird on their counter and say, "I hope you understand" and then run out of there as fast as I can. But, unfortunately, it was closed. I drove to another animal hospital (which was huge) but it was closed. They only permitted entrance if it was a real emergency. I guess a small bird wasn't that much of a big deal.

So after two hours of driving, I went home with the small box (PetSmart provided the container) and my study books. I placed the box on top of my bed and opened it. The bird did nothing but stare at me with those adorable beady eyes of hers.

She wasn't all that big. She was pretty tiny. When I held her in the palm of my hand, she stood at three inches and was one inch wide. I noticed that this baby bird still had her baby feathers. If anyone knows how baby feathers look like, compared to the adult ones, it's small circular-looking fluffs that's soft and very, very thin. It doesn't provide the baby bird as much warmth. As I was inspecting her, the baby bird flapped her wings and attempted to fly past my face. Instead, she flew straight into my chest and fell in my lap.

Let me tell you something that I have learned from this baby bird. A bird is one of the hardest animals to raise when they're young. When you have an adolescent or an adult, all you have to do is stick a box of food inside and they'll eat whenever necessary. A baby bird will eat all the time and will not stop until they explode and die. At first, I could not manage to open that beak of hers with the tweezers to feed her. What I did was warm up some hard cat food in a small bowl of water. I would use the tweezers to pick at the bloated, soft cat food and then feed it to the bird after it cooled down. That bird wouldn't open her beak. I held her, forcing her beak open and shoving the tweezers down her throat after an unsuccessful hour. She still didn't open her beak willingly.

Fed up, I placed her in the box and glared down at her with utter rage. Here I am trying to do a good deed and save her life, and this bird doesn't appreciate it.

But a miracle happened.

At the instant I placed the bird inside the box, she opened her beak and let out a cacophony of a noise to voice out her hunger. Confused, I stared down at the bird with a questioning face. She did nothing but continue her small tirade of hunger. Slowly, (for it was my first time doing this) I grabbed the tweezers and drew it closer to her mouth. I was shocked when the bird chirped and trilled louder than ever as the tweezers with food came near. She gobbled everything I prepared.

At first, I panicked after I fed her. When I looked at the base of her neck, I noticed that there was a bulge that wasn't there before. I moved her feathers around to see that there was a HUGE tumor-looking thing sticking out from her neck. I panicked and flew to my computer, searching out more information about it. I thought I had overfed her. But as I searched on the internet, they claimed that this tumor-looking object was called a "crop", a place where the birds store their food. I literally felt all this weight jump off my shoulders.

I named this troublemaker: Feathers.

It was funny, because in one of my stories "Interior Monologue", I have a character named "Feathers". But this little bird deserves that name. Feathers, the bird, loves to groom through her feathers and remove these white, tiny particles. Once those white particles have reached the exterior of her body, she would do a small shake and POOF. All these white stuff fly in the air and fall onto my bed. That troublemaker made me wash my blankets 10:00PM.

As I had said before, the weather here in Southern California was not at it's best. It was cold and dreary, making me feel good about myself because the bird would've died out there in the night if I had not gone to the library. Because Nabi slept in my room, I could not keep Feathers out. Instead, I placed her inside the closet, in a small shelf for herself. I warmed up hot water, placed it inside of a plastic container and wrapped that container with a nice sheet of toilet paper. After wards, I placed it near her box so that the bird wouldn't freeze through the night. I also ripped up toilet paper till her box was flooded with white. I made sure that Feathers wouldn't freeze through the night. That didn't become a problem.

The problem was her feeding schedule.

I (being in college) have class everyday of the week. I end Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 12PM and Thursday and Tuesday at 4PM. I don't reach home until 1:20PM (MWF) since I take the bus. I haven't bought a parking permit for college yet, so I can't bring the car around. The second day I had Feathers, I was searching information on the internet: How long can a baby bird survive without food? And you know what answer I got?: A baby bird must be fed periodically, preferably 15-20 minutes. If the baby bird doesn't get it's food, then the stomach will eat itself.

I literally panicked. I felt like crying the whole day until I went home. I rushed to the bus stop, getting pissed off by the second as I waited. Then I practically ran home for the fear of killing the bird I tried to save. And you know what I got?: A very, talkative baby bird demanding for food. I felt so relieved to find Feathers still alive. I went into the "mother-mode" and prepped up everything. Luckily, my sibling was able to help out with the feeding schedule. Amazing, because I made a bird call that made Feathers recognize me as her mother. I would purse my lips, top teeth against my bottom lip, and the air would flow through the teeth and make the bird call. I love it because when I lift my arm and do the small "mother bird call", Feathers would fly and glide onto my finger.

When I tried to drop the bird off to PetSmart, one lady told me that I was brave and have pure soul. Usually, because people are driven by instinct to help a baby bird, they would ditch it later when they find out how high maintenance they are. Later, they would then leave the bird somewhere to die. That is something I will NEVER do.

Usually, when I want to go out for a small drive I would bring Feathers along. There's this small area near my radio where it holds objects: pencils, pens, etc. (VERY DURABLE and attached to the car) I would perch Feathers onto the thin edge of that obsidian box and she would stand there and enjoy the ride. I closed the windows everything we go for a ride so that she wouldn't fly out and get killed by traffic. It was all good until she got curious and wanted to see everywhere around the car. One time, she flew in my face while I was driving and by instinct I closed my eyes. Luckily, I knew that street like the back of my hand. Randomly, she would fly to the window, steering wheel and my face to show her excitement. One time, I thought she wanted to be free and I went outside holding her in my hand. I thought it was better to release than hold her captive if flying free to the wild was her natural and true instinct. She did absolutely nothing. I placed her on the ground and walked away. But she chirped and flew at my shoulder. She wouldn't let me go anywhere without her. I did some research and found that some people made a bond with those wild birds that's called an imprint. The birds become attach to their new home and don't dare to leave unless by natural instinct of course.

Don't you ever let anyone tell you that it is illegal to keep a wildlife animal in your hold. If it was so illegal than half of the nation should be arrested for taking in those birds and animals. By human instinct, it is us who offers the help to those who cannot voice their pain. It is our emotional mentality that overcomes law and order, pushing it aside until it becomes meager and a mere hindrance to our society. If you have the determination, compassion, willingness and time to take care of a bird you can do it. But it's very, very time consuming and practically the center of your life for the moment.

Unfortunately, two weeks later, after a brush of Death, Feathers passed away in the night. To this day, I regret changing the box she was so comfortable with. The problem was that Feathers' previous box was covering in disgusting filth and feces. I changed her box, placed toilet paper inside and covered her up for the night. That night, I left a crack open so that I could feel the cool air through the stuffy room. And for that moment, I selfishly forgot about Feathers and embraced the air. The next day, I felt cold and told my sibling (who's one year younger) to get Feathers and try to warm her up using her hands. When I heard those words: "Um, Bluebell...uh, Feathers..." I knew she passed away. I did not feeling anything but sadness in the beginning. My other younger sibling (two years younger) assumed that Feathers froze in the night. I could not look at her body or even bury that small life form into the Earth because I knew that I would cry. I didn't even have to look at the body or accompany my sister, I cried in my bed because of the huge pound of guilt upon my shoulders. Over and over, I thought: "I killed her. I killed Feathers." I wanted to stay hidden underneath my blanket and let those ugly sobs escape from the depths of my soul.

I know to a complete stranger, I might sound abnormal and unusual for crying over a small, meaningless animal. But when you take the role of a mother to care and nurture that one life that can possibly become something in the future, you will feel the pain that stabbed me over and over as I let it go. It pains a mother to see their child suffer as they cannot do anything about it. But it kills the mother to see their child die because of her selfish needs. Still to this day, I blame myself and I cannot forgive myself.

After I told my best friend, she explained to me that Feathers had a home to stay and a short life to live in comfort. If I had not found Feathers or even taken her home that day at the library, she would've died. But because I placed her underneath my wing, I gave her the possibility to live two more weeks.

And those two more weeks gave her food, a family and a home.

I, being the depressing/questioning teenager, would periodically wonder about what life is and what's the meaning of it. Sometimes I would ponder whether or not if I have a purpose in the world. When I found Feathers and became her "bird mother", I realized what life is, and it's meaning. It cannot be expressed in words (for I have tried but couldn't), but I have finally found out the meaning of it. When I held her small body in my hands, to acknowledge the delicate structure of her body, to feel the softness of her feather, to know the need from her undeveloped body, to see the trust in those small beady eyes--

--I found life.

R.I.P - Feathers (October 31, 2009)

Nabi the Adequate Feline

Funny story, really, and I do have to tell. So, in my previous entry, I had written about a stray cat wandering around the neighborhood, who I have come to dearly love. Unfortunately, my mom doesn't take animals lightly and Nabi needed a place to go. The school needed a farm cat due to a tragic loss that includes two starving stray dogs, injured rabbits and a dead feline. So, one day the cat was given to the school and I was utterly depressed and sad, even though I knew it was for a good cause. But, everyone knows the saying: "If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours forever. If it doesn't, then it was never meant to be." Well, two days later, I opened the door at seven in the morning and found Nabi there! She meowed ever so adorably and paws at the screen door to be let inside. x) And of course, due to my overly happy mood I let the cat in x) She is MEANT to be LOL

Luckily, my mom has slowly accepted Nabi into the family(: And that's what I'm happy about. I don't know if you'll be surprised, but my mom absolutely HATES animals. She'll pet them and throw words of endearment, but she will NEVER allow any inside, besides my two geckos and two fishes. I was astonished when my mom opened the door and let the cat inside on her OWN will. I didn't have to badger my mom and implore for Nabi. She even got a small plastic bowl and dubbed it for Nabi x)

Here's two pictures of the lovable cat x) One of them is when she was sleeping in a box bed I made for her, haha. She seems very comfortable(: She almost spent the night over, but she was too active D: I had to let her out and she ended up chasing some moths.

I tried to buy her flea collars, but it's dangerous for a cat if she's pregnant. And Nabi does look prego, but I can't really tell xP I went to PetSmart and they say the only way to tell if she's pregnant is to go to the vet. Yeah, I have no money for the vet lol.

The other picture is when Nabi was sleeping on my bed x) she was snuggling against my leg LOL I killed five fleas from her body D: Those bastards are fast! LOL I had to clean the WHOLE house afterward. Isn't she adorable?