Memoir Monday

I'm not sure what to write about, but there is this one memories that I have that has changed me to be the person I am today in the kitchen.
Ever since I was a little girl I had a nanny to just be there for me when I ever needed her help. She was at our house to make our dinner and wash our cloths and clean our house.
But, I don't like to thing of her that way. I like to think of her as my family. She has been with my family ever since I was a little girl. I've known her so long that, I know her children as like my own brothers.
Well, any ways, I was getting at. Her name is Maxima.
Maxima has taught me how to cook in the kitchen, wash the dishes, and even hang up cloths after being washed.
This one memorie I have in the kitchen with Maxima: "Que quieres comer?" Maxima asked me like she always does following me to the kitchen.
"Em... No se," I was walking towards the cupboard where we put all of the boxed food. Easy food to make. I pulled the cupboard doors open, and looked inside to get my favorite easy to make food. Mac in cheese!
"Buen opinion," Maxima always would tell me when I would take it out to show her.
"Me ayudas para aser los?" I asked her.
"Claro que si te ayudare," she would say and we would both start getting the pots and the ingrediants out to start making our favorite box made food.
After we would be done we would both get plates and eat what we made ourselves for lunch. Then we would have to wash the dishes and that was my favorit part. I loved getting all soapy and we would blow bubbles at each while washing the dishes.
But... If you want to know the worst part about those good times. I grew up. Now I don't get help (which is a good thing now, I can cook more food now). But, now I don't get to have the fun I had when I was like four to five-years-old. But, Maxima and me still have fun in other ways as family.
She taught me how to cook and how to wash dishes, and how to hang up cloths after they are done being washed. Shes taught me a lot.

"Yes!" I ripped open a package. A package I just got in the mail from my grandmother. I took my brand new ipod out of the shreded pieces of paper I ripped off. "I got my ipod! Ha ha ha haa haaa," I was jumping all around in my living room.
"Be conscientious with your new ipod, honey, I don't want you to loose it," my mother told me while I started to calm down from all of the exitment in my body.
"Okay mom!" I wasen't paying much attention with all of my exitment. I was starting to get on the computer to down load some music on to my ipod nano.

"Honey!" my mom yelled out from the kitchen. "Don't take your ipod to school, okay," she sounded pretty strict.
"Okay mom!" I yelled back. But, I really wanted to show my friends at school my new ipod I got from my gandmother. So I slipped my ipod into my school bags front pocket, and my mom took me to school.

I was walking into my homeroom class. I must have looked like I pilfer something, but somthing not valuable. "What's up?" Victoria asked me. "Why do you look like that?"
I waited a second to see if anyone was looking at me to see if I inlklinged. "I got a new ipod," I squieled. I was still exited.
"Seriously," she looked exited too. We were both looking at each other so exited. "You are so audacious," she looked at me like I was a smooth criminal.
"I know I am.
"So... let me see it!" she was being entreat.
"Okay," I wanted her to see it.
I reached done to my bag and opened the front pocket and lached on to my ipod and took it out slowly so Mrs. Fredrickson woulden't see what I was takeing out of my bag.
"See, you like it?" I asked her.
"Yeah its..." she got interupted by, HER.
There was silence in between that moment.
"Excuse me. But I believe that you're not aloud to have electonics in school grounds. I'm sorry to tell you this, but i will have to confiscate your, what ever that is," she was so disgusted.
I didn't want to hand it over to her. So I just grabed it stongly and lackidasicaly put the ipod on her pail white hands that never touch the sun.
"You can pick it up after the day has ended, Ms. Perez," she informed me.
I was disapointed the whole rest of the day.

I have a confession.

I hate how people talk behind other peoples backs. They kill each other, they devour each other, and they just don't know what they are doing when they talk behind each others backs.

My friends dont know what they are doing. I think I've been talked about behind my back. If I knew this was to be true, I know it would have broken my heart.

Right now I'm in the middle of this situation. People are hating each other, and start to talk behind the other persons back they hate, and I get the shit about it.

The people tell me about the person, how much they hate them and how they think about that person. I mean, I dont really mind listening, because I'm a really good friend and I listen to peoples feeling and thoughts (so I've been told about myself); but, I really feel bad for the person who can't think of anything other than that one person they hate so much. It's as if they don't have a life, they don't know how to live.

When I have a problem with someone I deal with them and then I go on with my life until they get back into it to give me more crap about there problem with me. But I haven't had a problem like this in a really long time. I guess it's a good thing for me. It must tell me I'm a good person in life.

This is my advice to the people who don't know how to think of anything else: GO WITH THE FLOW!.

It just gets on my nervise when you don't have anything else to think about. Just live. That's my way I'm getting throught life.

My sister. She's like any other little twenty month old baby sister. She still doesn't know how to share, she still doesn't know how to get out of the way of things like cars, and balls going strait at her head. She has two sides to her: a little angel and a baby devil in one tiny body. I influence her. She watches every movement, and every motion I do. I run; she runs, I jump; she jump. I am explaining something to my parents; she has something to say too, but no one understands her.
Whenever I'm reading a book, eating an ice cream or a frappe, playing with a soccer ball or basketball, she wants it too. She wants what I have. Its like any other little baby sister does. But, when I'm reading a story, she grabs it from my hands and gives me an evil eye. She squints her eyes and looks at me like I was some evil person like herself.
Like last night, I was reading her a story about a dump truck that she loves to read, but out of nowhere she grabs the book out of my hand and looks at me with the "evil eye".
But, she also has an angel in her. She can be kind or loving at times.
One minute she was being a devil; then the next minute she is hugging me, loving me, giving me kisses on the cheeks, rubbing my back, and laughing.
She is still an ordinary little sister that I will love and care for at times when she is an angel and not a devil. But, when she's a devil I might not love her the way she is when she's a devil.
My little sister is any ordinary sister, and I love her.

15 vocabulary word Wednesday

Tears

"What the fuck did I do wrong?" my mother yelled at my father.
My father was getting ready to go his parents house with a seriouse expretion on his face.
I was in the middle of my parents watching them though the water in my eyes. The salty tearsdripping down my cheek almost touching my lips, dripping past them to the tip of my chin and being released to the floor in my living room.
My mother asked again reverberating the same question making it feel like the question was irascrbly interminable to my ear drum every time she ased, waiting to hear my fathers response but never to hear it, but I only saw a blur of his faceses expretion.
"Just tell me what the hell is wrong! Why are you leaving?" she asked enteat.
I kept standing there, not knowing what to do. Should I get in the middle of them to stop all of this? I questioned myself. But, I didn't.
All of a sudden I felt despondant to my parents relationship, when my parents turned and faced each other.There amissed faces were wrong in a way. I didn't feel any hope that second for my om and my dad looking at each other. It looked like a cat ready to scratch, and the dog ready to rip the cat nto millians of little pieces right in front of me. Their middle child in the middle of this fight.
It looked like my father built up a hug abhorrent disgust toward my mom.
I could feel this fight becoming more profound second ticked by on the watch my father wore on his wrist.
I started to hear someone speaking but I coulden't hear them from my sobs. But I knew it was my father, giving my mother a tirade speech to her. I didnt want to listen so I plugged my ears.
I stood there tremoulous like a baby chick mobed from hawks trying to eat me away.
I stood there knowing that this moment with my parents would haount me for life.
My father moved out the house so fast and put his bags into the car and said good bye to me and impeled the car to run away from my mother, my sister, and myself.
What did I do wrong? I asked.