Everyday is beautiful. No matter if the sky is crying, or the world seems like it’s spinning faster and faster on a swivel chair, everyday is still beautiful.

Like seeing the sun after it rains,

Oftentimes I, and many others, have bad days. However, from those seemingly awful days can come wondrous experiences. Almost like if you received a bad test score and your friends, or anyone close to you, try to cheer you up, creating a beautiful memory.

One time, my team and I played against a pretty tough team. Towards the end however, we were neck and neck until in the final few minutes they came back and won. It was a hard fought battle, but in the end I was frustrated with myself. I thought that I could’ve done “this differently”, or “that better”, but in the end, once I got in the car, I bawled my eyes out, like an exploded fire hydrant. Luckily, my dad was there. He calmed me down and reassured me that it was ok, that it was just one game, and I will do better in the next one.

So no matter what challenges you face in life, just remember everyday is beautiful.

The Many Names of One

I have many names. Call me what you want, but only I’ll be the one to truly know who I am. 

If a name gives people an identity, then do I have multiple identities?  I think I do.

With “different identities” comes different relationships with the people around you. My parents and sister call me “Nana (pronounced as ‘Naw-nuh’)”, but my cousins, aunts, and uncles call me “Kay Kay”. However, some of my teammates call me “baby freshie”. Though the name they give me may have nothing to do with my real name, that’s how they see me and that’s what they will call me for who knows how long.

Even the small difference in pronunciation can be memorable. Like the way my old coach would pronounce my name. Instead of starting with ‘Kay’, she would say ‘Cuh’ instead and no matter how many times me or my teammates would try to jokingly correct her, she will always say it her way and I’m fine with that. 

Names are special and you should cherish the ones you are given. Even if they’re not the greatest, hopefully someone will have something to remember you by because there can be many names of one.

Talking to the Princess in the Moon

(with lyrics from: Talking to the Moon by: Bruno Mars, See You Again by: Wiz Khalifa)

“At night, when the stars light up my room

I sit by myself

Talking to the moon”.

The moon is bright and full, sitting on her throne made of stars upon the castle of clouds. She is beautiful.

On this peaceful night as I sit on the edge of my bed facing my window, a light breeze pushes against my cloth curtains, bringing a chill to my spine. As I pour my dreams and thoughts out with the beautiful, white orb the illuminates the night sky with lights like the cameras of the paparazzi surrounding it, I close my eyes and think to myself,

“you’re on the other side talking to me too 

Or am I a fool who sits alone talking to the moon?”

The breeze starts growing stronger and I quickly hurry to grab a blanket from the cabinet outside my room. I picked. When I came back, the moon was gone,  ambushed by the army of clouds. 

I can’t wait to tell you about my next dreams. 

“I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again”

Spaghetti with Ketchup, Sugar, and Hotdogs

It’s time for dinner. You come home from a long day at school and a 2 hour practice. The only thing you’ve eaten since lunchtime was a smushed Chewy granola bar before practice that your mom packed for you this morning. You are hungry.

As you open your front door, you catch a whiff of something. Something tangy? Something sweet? Something savory?

After you put your bags down you walk towards the kitchen, following that beautiful aroma. Once you turn that corner, you see your mom holding a large spoon in hand, standing near the stove with a big pot over the fire. On the counter beside the stove is a bottle of pepper, an opened half filled container of sugar with a spoon in it, and a bottle of Heinz ketchup.

As you approach your mom, the scent of the food gets stronger. Your mom opens the lid of the pot as you hover over it, letting the steam blow against your face. Spaghetti with chopped up hot dogs are the contents of this titanic sized pot. 

“Mama, what are you making?”

“Spaghetti with ketchup, sugar, and hotdogs… Filipino spaghetti”.

The Yellow Rose

Stomach grumbling, palms sweating– I am nervous. “Why am I nervous”, I ask myself, “I do this almost every week”. But no. This time was different. People. People were watching. More people than usual. Not just our parents, but teachers and staff too.

Before the game was about to start, it was time for us to appreciate our staff members since it was staff appreciation night. We all sat on our bench, smallest to largest number. 21 is my number, so I was in the middle. One by one, each player got up, took a rose, and gave it to their staff member before taking a picture. Finally, it was my turn. I got up and a player’s mom handed me a rose. A yellow rose. Once I handed the rose to my teacher, he thanked me with a warm smile. I am no longer nervous.

“I wanted the yellow rose”, he says. “Yellow roses smell better than red roses”.