The One Minute Writer 6

Today's prompt: "If there were words written on your heart, what would they say?"

60 seconds starts... now:

A little recklessness never hurt anyone. A little Hannah Montana nailpolish (kelly fine) at 3 am never got anyone into trouble. A scoop of strawberry icecream.. or two.. or three.. never thrusted anyone into a downward spiral of catastrophic weight gain. Take chances, because even if everything goes wrong later, you'll know that even if just for a moment, you got exactly what you wanted.

-ZMar

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I'm not sure

...if anyone from CITYterm will ever read this, but I guess I can't let that stop me; I've been waiting entirely too long to be able to complete this letter. I started it during the semester when I began to really comprehend how much I had changed. So, as the entry goes on, the tense will change, signifying the parts that I wrote once I returned home.

Dear CITYterm Spring 2010,

You took me in as this girl who had never ridden a bus in her life, hated East Asian food, feared the homeless, had never shared a living space with anyone, and was absolutely sure that she could never live in a place that didn't have tons of trees and grass and suburbs and 6 lane highways. And now I'm in love with the subway system (eagerly awaiting opportunities to utilize public transportation whenever I can), and find sushi and any kind of dumpling absolutely delectable. Sometimes I still think about that homeless boy, Joseph, who would now be a junior in college, but lost his financial aid and had to drop out, with no family left to support him. I value the relationship that I formed with this complete stranger in the 20 minutes that we chatted during our Midnight Run trip in Manhattan. You taught me how to open my heart even wider to the world, when I was already sure when I came to CITYterm that it was open as wide as it could go. Every moment in the semester was an opportunity to learn something, every subway ride was an opportunity to make a new friend. Strangers weren't a danger; they were a friend whose name you just didn't know yet.

Thank you for giving me the most secure place to change. I miss you, and am so thankful to have made such beautiful, unique connections with such wonderful people. I love our city. I love our dirty, busy, loud, famous, restless, beautiful city of New York. I try to think about living in other places, and going to college in a small town, and I simply can't imagine myself not living in the city at least one more time, if I don't end up there for life.

It's been 21 days since our closing ceremony. My room is a mess. My suitcases have just been sitting in the middle of my floor, somewhat unpacked at best. My boxes of belongings that I shipped back have been in the hallway, some unopened, others opened because they had necessities in them like my pillows or my laptop charger. I shipped home a box of all the things that were on my wall in my dorm room. All the ticket stubs, Broadway Playbills, photos, subway maps and train schedules, drawings, and notes. I've been trying to figure out what to do with them. Scrapbook them? Tape them to these walls? Keep them in the box and put it under my bed until a time when I'm feeling particularly nostalgic? I had to clean my room today or I'm grounded. I opened all of the boxes and unpacked the suitcases completely, and put all of the things from my dorm room on my bulletin board with all my similar home things (movie ticket stubs, doodles, witty buttons, medals, homecoming ribbons, etc). I felt the old and the new mix into something that makes me so eager to see how else I'm going to change.

Thank you, CITYterm, for the most incredible 120 days of my 17 years of existence. I am prone to using hyperboles as a means of expressing my experiences (ex/ "No guys, really, Shake Shack has the most incredible burgers in the freaking world!"). But that statement wasn't hyperbole because I realize that CITYterm wasn't only my greatest experience thus far, but it was also an example, a taste, a teaser, for what I want; what kinds of memories and experiences and friendships and adventures I want to juice out of this life of mine.

Yours forever,

ZMar

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY,

...to you, blog!

It sucks that I'm a day late celebrating it. If you had a name, blog, I'd get a personalized cake for you. And then eat it while I don't clean my room. Or research colleges. Or do my summer reading.

Thank you, blog, for a year of being an outlet for creativity, a facility for my procrastination, a facility for others' procrastination, a conversation starter, a hyperlink on my facebook page. If I had a champagne flute of strawberry sparkling cider, I'd toast to you. I do have a bottle of Ozarka water, though. So.. cheers. Happy Birthday. Here's to another great year.

It's kind of unfortunate that there are only 29 posts (not including this one). I blogged approximately 8% of the entire year. Maybe I'll do better this go round. Maybe not. Probably not. College applications may consume all of my free time. They probably will. I will, however, make this promise: this blog will not become my wall of acceptances or rejections from colleges. No sir. No public displays of accomplishments or disappointments regarding my education here, buddy. Well, unless I take a gap year and get whisked away to some exotic foreign program and in the process become some crazy popular star on a telenovella in some spanish speaking country (with my extensive french education, of course), then I suppose I'll blog about that. Perhaps.

Until then,

Bonne Anniversaire a toi, Feliz Cumpleanos a ti, Happy Birthday dear blog, happy birthday to you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xrff-R0iyXo

Cuantos anos tienes tu, blog?

-ZMar

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SUMMER

TWO THOUSAND FREAKING TEN.

I don't even know what to do with all this excitement. I can't bottle it, wrap it, cap it, sell it, contain it. I swear I'm about to pop. It's so green here, and I can feel the work and responsibility slipping right out of my excited fingers. Even now, when I should be doing something productive, I can't keep my mind on math equations when day dreaming about long drives with warm air sailing in and out of my open windows and too loud music dancing on my skin is much more appealing. It's just so close. Three beautiful months of non-stop grass and sun and shorts and flip flops and diving boards and ultimate frisbee and watermelon and peaches. For 90 days I can be lazy without being reprimanded, and eat pancakes at 3 am without worrying about being up for school in 4 hours.

Summer, hurry up. We've been apart for much too long. I know our whole break up- make up routine is exhausting, but I love you too much to stop now.

SOD: Daylight by Matt & Kim

TOD: "Ah, summer what power you have to make us suffer and like it" -Russel Baker

-ZMar

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Spring Cleaning

I've decided to revamp the good 'ol bloggeroo. My blog is undergoing a bit of spring cleaning. The coming change is inspired by CITYterm. At the end of every post, I'll have a song of the day and a thought of the day. So just youtube the song if you don't have it already, and spend a minute or two mulling over the thought of the day.

I don't have a particular post for today, so here's the song/thought of the day:

SOD: Disconnected by Beat Union

TOD: "You don't get anything clean without getting something else dirty"

Ciao,

-ZMar

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The One Minute Writer 5

Here's today prompt:

"Describe the tackiest or ugliest clothing trend you've witnessed in your lifetime"

60 seconds starts... now.

The trend in 6th or 7th grade when wearing a dress over jeans was the ugliest thing EVER. Especially when the dress reaches past your knees. Is having your ankles exposed showing too much skin? This trend is second only to Birkenstocks. Birkentsocks do nothing for your feet. They're these beige suede clogs that don't match with anything. Despite popular belief, they don't have good arch support, and make your foot odor strong enough for the Pope to be able to smell your foot funk. At least Uggs, the #1 uggliest boot man has ever seen , have a purpose. I feel like my foot is a sheep when I'm wearing mine. If you live in a cold place (no, Texas does not count) Uggs are a must have. I have to say one thing though: Uggs + short shorts does NOT = warm. It = pneumonia. Put on a damn coat. And pants. Seriously. Your feet may be warm, but the rest of your body will not hesitate to get frost bite.

Later skater,

ZMar

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It's raining

...And i'm listening to Jason Mraz. He's telling me to live high, live mighty, live righteously takin' it easy. He's telling me to take it easy and celebrate the malleable reality. I think I can do that. No oppositions, really.

The acoustic guitar makes me really, really ready for summer. Which reminds me-- since when am I an almost-senior? I'm pretty sure yesterday I was at the 7th grade dance, "saving room for jesus" on the dancefloor (to Ms. Hampton's liking). I could have sworn I entered Upper School just this morning. And this afternoon I was driving for the first time. Just five minutes ago I left for CITYterm- and already I'm going back to Dallas? To watch my friends graduate? To become a senior? And to paint the water tower and write my senior page? I honestly thought the whole "those 4 years will pass by before you know it" was total B.S., but really, it isn't. I have no idea how I got from Mrs. Woolley's freshman year english class to the present. I swear sometimes I can still feel the pain of my braces circa 2007.

I always thought I'd be this wiser, incredibly mature, debonair person when I became a senior. Sure, I'm smart enough now to not walk by a teacher with a Starbucks in hand when you're not supposed to leave campus, or to not say "come buy my sugary goods for $1" when promoting a bake sale in front of the entire student body. But I'm hardly a sage. I'm just not foolish the way I was in 9th grade. It's interesting how you think completely differently as a freshman. Sometimes things seem just so important, or reality seems one way when really it's the exact opposite. Instead of being embarrassed by it, I'm pretty damn thrilled I learned it at 14/15 instead of 17 when people take me more seriously.

9th grade wall of famous mistakes:

-Unknowingly presenting spanish sexual content in an english literature presentation

-Taking a friend with me on a date (hello, third wheel)

-Being the third wheel on a date

-Obsession with Skinny jeans

-Mouthing off to the seniors during the spring 2008 musical

Long live 9th grade Zoe. ...or not. It's fine with me either way- I'm about to be a senior.

SENIORS 2011 WHAT WHAT!

-ZMar

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4:36 a.m.

is when I wrote this. Thought I'd share. So, accept it for what it is I guess.

* * *

Like a canopy or a pool of sunshine,

Friendship,

When cupid's arrows strike a bit too hard and forget to hit the other person too,

When you trip over one too many of life's hurdles,

There's your canopy, your rays of sunshine

Tight, secure, stable, warm and confident

Woven, twisted ropes, of light and sun and trust

together,

And you

Inside it all

Never alone

Together in

Sunshine and rope

Never alone

Just sunshine and rope

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It's funny how we change.

I like to keep letters and look at old yearbooks and messages written inside them with glittery, splotchy, messy, neat, hand writing. I like to look at photos from dances from freshman year and then skip ahead to sophomore year, and then junior year, just to see the differences. I like to read old diary entries and keep my favorite English papers.

I think I do this because I'm fascinated by how people change. I think I almost want to know how we change, what it is that changes us. It's not a curiosity provoked by disapproval or regret, but by sheer amazement at how life moves so quickly, how time can be stopped by no one. Amazing experiences, pain, bad decisions, friendships, thanksgiving dinners, flushed goldfish, driving lessons, barbie jeeps, flipping pancakes, middle school sleepovers, all can't stop time. In a way, all these moments are time.

If time is experience, and experience is life, does that mean every time someone says "we're wasting time" they mean "we're wasting life"? Does that mean every time I sleep in until 1 or 2 pm on Sundays I'm wasting life, or am I spending life to regain enough energy to not waste life, to do something worthwhile, later?

Though I think that during these 4 months in New York I'm not wasting life, I don't think that during my 16 years and 363 days in Texas I was wasting life either. Perceptively, I suppose I could see how some could think otherwise. ("New York is more exciting!")

But I would disagree for one reason, really:

The friends in Dallas, Addison, Plano, Austin, Houston, Pflugerville, whatever, Texas will still be there, not wasting life, and just as awesome and loving when I return to not waste life there too.

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The One Minute Writer 4

Here's today's prompt:

Fill in the blanks: "I'd like to march right up to ___ and say '____'. "

I'd like to march right up to the first New Yorker I see on the street tomorrow and say "I'm from Texas, let's be friends. I'll teach you about Corny dogs, you teach me about hot dogs. You teach me baseball, I teach you horse back riding. You teach me how to j-walk, I teach you how to walk in cowboy boots. You scratch my back, I scratch yours. Everybody wins. There is no downside."

And if the conversation is going well and I'm feeling bold, I'll go in for a hug. Because that's what I do. Handshakes are formal. Waves are awkward. High fives have been replaced with pounds which reminds me of Rock, Paper, Scissors. Hugs are easier. And when you think about it, they're not all that intimate, they're not that odd or uncomfortable. You don't need to stop-drop-and roll to escape the iron clasp of a friendly acquaintance. Hey there, NYC. Let's hug it out.

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Collegeboard doesn't know what "knowledge assessment" is.

I ABSOLUTELY ABHOR THE SATs.

They are one of the things wrong with America. THEY ARE THE ULTIMATE ANTI-CRUISE. The College board punishes me for overanalyzing passages (the way a good writer should) and for being aware that no, neither a,b,c,d, or e, are the most suitable choices. The College board is incompetent. And the horrible irony of it all is that my college prep school, which has taught me well, is preventing me from getting into college because my SAT scores aren't perfect. There is something wrong with the world when an education from a school that makes you "college ready" hinders your ability to get into colleges that focus so much on standardized tests. Screw you, society, for trying to standardize us all.

If my, or anyone's intelligence cannot be shown with 500 or so scantron bubbles, then I guess the scholars of the world are damned because apparently a grading machine knows best.

This rant is in part due to the horrid SAT prep I had to endure this morning and the March 13 test date that is looming over my head.

Ps. New York is fun. We had this formal event today which was pretty cool. Everyone looked pretty sharp. We're some pretty darn snazzy dressers.

Peace out girl scout,

ZMar

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The One Minute Writer 3

Here's the prompt for today:

What one feature do you wish your car had? Be imaginative-- outlandishness is welcome

I wouldn't say this feature is outlandish, it would merely be practical. I would like an automatic curfew making feature added to my car.

I can write the book on making curfews, as I am often faced with the task of racing across town with insufficient time to get home. However, if my car could detect cops, and navigate the fastest routes, I wouldn't have to waste my time repeatedly checking the rear view mirror for police (aka. power rangers), and peeling down the tollway.

And, when you think about it, such a car feature wouldn't be "illegal", it would actually be for the greater good of society. If more kids met curfew, less kids would be grounded, and in turn the amount of animosity towards parents would decrease. Moreover, if fewer kids are grounded, the number of runaways would decrease substantially.

So, this upgrade to my car would not only save America's youth, it would also save my ass from getting in trouble.

There is no downside.

Let's make it happen,

ZMar

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Can't we all just get along?

I really like dolphins. And it would be great if the japanese could just.. ya know, stop slaugtering them. I get that the whole "sushi craze" is infecting the world faster than the bubonic plague, but this is unnecessary. I'm not making this up. I won't go into the nasty details, but basically, Flipper seems to be finding himself on the chopping board over and over again due to the unregulated activities of many japanese fishermen. Please do something about it. Sign the online petition. Maybe it'll do something, maybe it won't. But it's not like you aren't on the internet already. I mean, you're reading this...

Online petition http://www.thepetitionsite.com/takeaction/724210624

*Just clarifying, I do not mean to generalize the Japanese people or imply that I dislike Japan or it's inhabitants. I just disagree with some of it's citizen's activities. God knows I love Pei Wei (if that even counts as Japanese food).

Later,

ZMar

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This place

..is not Canada. It is Texas.

The land where it is not allowed to go below 75 degrees. Maybe 65 during December, but that is it. I am obviously a Texan. I own 2 sweaters. If I have to wear shoes that aren't flip flops, it's time to pull out the Snuggie and cancel school.

Speaking of which, there is a Snuggie for dogs now? What? The commercial says "your dog will love the Snuggie!" But I mean.. I seriously doubt dogs can tell the difference between a backwards dog robe and a Snuggie. My dog is a spaz. He would probably eat the Snuggie.

Also, speaking of Christmas, my holiday was kind of good and bad.

Good: I got the camera I wanted. Bad: Some douche bag stole my iPhone on Christmas Eve.

Let's say for example, some guy stole the phone so he could give it to his kid. What's he gonna say? "Santa lifted this iPhone from a teenager at the mall, honey, just for you. Because you've been such a good girl this year"? Or "My only crime is loving you too much"?

Well guy, I have a few words for you:

Mall security is taking you down. Happy Channukah, jerk.

Adios,

ZMar

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