A Kind Of Glory

I Love Unicorns

2009-12-12T21:00:00.001-08:00

Veronica Santana

April 29, 2008

Creative Writing

I Love Unicorns

It was a day that started like any other, pogo sticking my way to school. I was running late and pogoing as fast as possible. I was making great time, only would have been twenty or so minutes late, when while passing by the town park I noticed something.

I spotted next to the tire swings, a unicorn. Part of me thought the unicorn was just a product of my sleep deprived state, and my pogo stick rattled brain. Yet the unicorn still remained near the tire swing as I stepped off my pogo stick watching it. This was not your run of the mill unicorn. It was the unicorn of my dreams, well, my childhood dreams. I don’t sit around think about unicorns all the time anymore, just some of the time.

The unicorn in question was pure white, with a rainbow colored mane and tail. A shimmering cloud seemed to surround the unicorn, and its horn glowed like a shining star. I decided I should go over to the unicorn. I figured I was already late to school, so why not? It’s not often that a mythical creature of fantasy is hanging out by the tire swings that used to give you motion sickness.

I walked slowly towards the unicorn, not wanting to scare it off or have it charge and gore me. My knowledge of unicorns painted them a pretty docile being, but all of the knowledge came from My Little Pony. As I crept towards the unicorn, hiding behind the occasional tree and slide, I remembered something from my childhood. I had seriously loved My Little Pony, it was my vice of choice as a five year old. I told my sister once that I often had dreams where our whole family was unicorns. She started crying and told my Dad to make me stop having these unicorn dreams. My Dad tried to explain that imaging us as unicorns wasn’t a mean undertaking. I didn’t get what the big deal was, who wouldn’t want to be a unicorn? She should have been thankful I included her. I should have made her an evil troll with hairy moles covering her face.

Anyways, back to the unicorn stalking. As I got several feet from the unicorn, it locked eyes with me. We had a minute stare down before it bolted for the woods. I, with my pogo stick in hand, ran after the unicorn. I don’t know exactly why, since what would I do tackle it? This rational thought did not enter my mind, so instead I kept running towards the wood, where the unicorn preceded to jump onto the gazebo to stand majestically. “Ill trade you the unicorn…for that,” said a little voice from behind me. Instead of being very scared by whoever snuck up behind me, I got this warm feeling inside. The same feeling I get when I watch Christmas movies and dance to a Platinum Christmas (a compilation of pop Christmas jamz).

I turned around and was not too surprised to see an elf, not a little person, a straight up Santa’s little helper looking elf. He was only about two feet tall with very point ears, and wearing a silvery cloak. The “that” the elf was referring to was my pogo stick. Apparently, the little guy wanted to barter.

“Okay.” I said, handing over the pogo stick. The little elf took my pogo stick with a big heart warming smile. I felt this urge to pinch his cheeks, but I figured he’d probably find that insulting. After giving the elf my pogo stick, the unicorn leapt from the gazebo to stand beside me. I hopped on and unicorn rided myself to school. As I looked backed I saw the elf bouncing his way, presumably, back to the North Pole. I was never late to school again and always found good parking.

Blasts From The Past Comin At Ya Fast

2009-12-12T20:40:00.000-08:00

Since I have an inability to blog I'm going to post some stuff I wrote in High School for class. I took some creative writing classes, and had an inability to not insert humor in everything I did. It was impossible for me. I took a class called Mystery and Suspence Creaive Writing and still managed to make my stories ridiculous. At the end of one of my "scary" stories I had someone put their gold medallion around the janitor's neck after he saved them with a broom against their gun wielding detention supervising teacher. My teacher for the class actually critiqued it by writing on the side of my paper at that part "????? why have this???".

?????? UHHH WHY NOT?

To start this off, here is an essay I wrote for my General Creative Writing Class (taught by the same guy as the other class). I forget what the assignment was...this might have just been what I did for a free write. I just remember that after I read it my teacher said "Veronica, I would expect this from no one else." I take this as a compliment. He also put this gem in the recommendation letter he did for me for college: "Veronica has a humorous way of seeing and interacting with the world." That quote might be the single most effective way to describe me as a person.

Now, next post will be my short story, titled: "I Love Unicorns"

"Shauna, you can be Alicia. I'll be Jay Z obviously."

2009-11-03T08:30:00.000-08:00

So, me and Shauna are going to NYC this weekend. I can hardly even register that we're really going. I've never been there before so I'm all excited and nervous at the same time. I really hate looking like a tourist or someone from out of town, but there's no chance I won't. I'm actually scared about getting lost somehow, since by 11:00 PM on Saturday I will be probably be wicka-pissa-hamma-faced working my way to supa-wicka-pissa-hamma-faced. In all that hamma-facedness I might be separated from my friends. I can't really imagine a scenario where I would leave a bar or someone's apartment to just wander the streets, but anything can happen. So I'm just gonna hold Chris's and Shauna's hands most of the night.

Shauna and Chris: "VQ! STOP HOLDING MY HAND!" (Drunk irritated)

Me: "If you let go of my hand then you let go of our love." (Drunk sad)

Anyways, NYC. I'm freaking euphoric feeling to know I'm going to see Chris. It's been about three months. It makes me sad to not have him in life as much anymore. I miss my other friends to, but most of them are closer to home. That's not totally true. Christine is in Philly. But I guess with Chris it's different because he's out living his "real life" now. By "real life" I mean he's where he wants to be forever. I have no idea where I'm going to end up or what I'm going to do with my life. Chris is already on his way. It's just scary to know he's starting the life he wants. He's probably not going to come home summers. I try not to think about it too much. It's depressing.

I'm just going to enjoy this weekend with him and Shauna. And how fucking awesome is it that I'm going with Shauna? She's never been either. Me and Shauna used to go on vacations all the time when we were little. I always brought her along with me on my family ones. She could never bring anyone cause she's a twin and her parents thought that would suffice for same age companionship. So I never got to go to Mexico or Arizona or Florida or other cool places they went.

The bolt bus should be a great experience, and by great I mean holy shit I hope no weird people interact with us or the bus flips over. Irrational anxiety be thy name.

I used to not like NYC at all. I thought it was way overhyped. But I'd never been there so I was kind of being an asshole. It just seems dumb to put all this glory on one city. I guess I'll see how amazing it is. Chris loves it. We're not really going to do any sightseeing, like Ellis Island, Statue of Liberty, or my ultimate wet dream The National Museum of History. I'll just save that shit for another time I visit him.

Today is going to suck. My Tuesdays are HELL. I'm in class from 2:30 to 3:40 then work 4:00 to 6:00 then I have my organic farming lab 6:30 to 9:30. I just need to survive this week to make it to the city of dreams. Is NYC called the city of dreams? Or is that Disneyworld?

This is why we can't have nice things

2009-10-13T17:31:00.000-07:00

I don't really know what to write. I never do. In class when I'm supposed to be ya know paying attention I think of lots of things that I should write about it. Case in point: I really have to get back on ritalin. But then I get to my laptop or notebook and nothing. I think nothing and write nothing. Ballad Of Big Nothing (Hey Elliot). It's like everything I thought is erased from my mind. Maybe I should carry around a tiny notebook just to write down little reminders. "Crane walked in front of you at Campus and your screamed running across the field. Embarrassed yourself to all passerby" type of thing.

Like how people wake up from dreams and your supposed to write down some of the key things to remember it in the morning. Because your mind will forget a lot of the details. It's pretty fucked I'd have to do that just to remember what I though an hour ago. But mostly I now have this thought of how people are talking to themselves all day basically.

I have to try and watch Suht Jhally lectures now till he's a little voice in my head. A little skullet hair having South African or British voice. Shit, obnoxious laugher. It's like a duck sucked in some helium and it is now being strangled.

The sun is warm, the grass is green.

2009-10-02T18:00:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine came into my room today asking me If I could kill a bug in her room down the hall. I asked how big, she said it was the size of her hand. She saw the petrified look on my face and asked if I knew any guys on the floor who could. I ran myself to the guy's who live across from me and knocked on their door like the redcoats were a-comin. One of them took care of it. He didn't even flinch or squeal just a little when he saw it. He put it in a bottle and released it. I was all about killing it but he refused. I see insects as an enemy. We're at a constant war. Their are gonna be casualties.

But anyways I couldn't help but feel fucking ridiculous. I'm bigger and stronger then an insect, at least the ones that live in the Northeast and have no possibility of poisonous glands. If I watched myself on video when reacting to a bug I'd hate myself completely. Screaming. Shrieking. Hysteria.

It's not my fault I don't like insects. I was raised in an environment of insect fear. Well, I guess not totally, because my Dad handled them without any problem. But there we go I identified with my mom as another female not my Dad. There's some deep psychological shit involved with my fear of insects/vermin. I can't be blamed. My parents can though. I blame them for lots of things so let's add it to the list.

Although, every time there's an insect or mouse situation with my mom or sister I take care of it. They get even more whiny and hysterical then me. So I get all pissed off and high and mighty and take care of it just to be like "You guys are ridiculous. Seriously? Grow up." But when I'm not pissed or trying to make a point I just do what they do down a notch.

And there's no way I'm thinking about the insect or mouse's safety. If I kill a bug I take about two pounds of paper towel and squash that shit like it could possibly push it away and punch me in the face. I beat mice with brooms and leave the door open to give them the option of fleeing for their life. I've seen the Next Karate Kid and it's one of my favorite movies but I'm sorry if a bug is in my space I'm going to freak and try to kill it. If I'm outside and I see a bug I run away and let it be, but if you're up in my living space you're in hostile territory.

The bug lived today though. It was thrown out MY WINDOW. Even now I'm imagining that hairy freaky little thing crawling up the wall and getting through a crack in my wall to kill me. I'm going to sleep on the edge of my bed tonight and wrapping my blanket around my head. I might suffocate, but the bug won't touch me or go down my throat. Completely reasonable way of thinking.