Vive la Résistance !

Today was, by far, one of the worst Fridays of the year. I had some sort of exam in my first three classes, failed the first one. However, in Spanish I had to give a presentación about a poem that I had written:

Oda de la Cama

Cuando estás conmigo

Contenta yo me pongo

Y cuando te vas

Siento que regreses jamás

A las mascotas les gusta dormir en mí

Pero al fin, yo no dormí

Me quitas las sábanas

Y abres las persianas

Cuando limpias la habitación

Estoy ahí en todo mi colchón

Después de limpiar la ventana

Empiezas a comer una manzana

La echas a la basura

Y usas la aspiradora

Al fin de limpiar el piso

Me haces caso

Me pones la sábana limpia

Cuando no duermes todo te fastidia

Y yo estoy ahí

Para ti

Y confías en mí

Todos tus problemas

Y te calmas

Y de todas las camas

Yo soy la que amas

And now I shall translate it for all of you non-Spanish speakers.

Ode from the bed

When you're with me

I become content

And when you leave

I feel like you'll never return

The pets like to sleep on me

But in the end, I never slept

You take off the sheets

And open the blinds

When you clean your room

I'm there, in all my mattress-ness

After cleaning the window

You begin to eat an apple

You throw it in the trash

And use the vacuum cleaner

After cleaning the floor

You pay attention to me

You put the clean sheet on me

When you don't sleep everything annoys you

And I'm there

For you

And you confide in me

And you calm yourself

And of all the beds

I'm the one you love

I understand that it doesn't make sense, but it rhymes (in Spanish) and that is all that really matters, right? Regardless of your answer, I've already presented and it's too late to fix anything.

Sincerely,


La persona que nunca puede encontrar su pasta

(The person who can never find his pasta)

My First Post

Hello there, future followers whom I do not have at this moment, I shall recount the tale of my first adult experience.
No, no. It isn't sexually explicit, in fact, it's not sexual at all. For my eighteenth birthday, I decided to pierce my cartilage, which to many of you, may seem harmless, but to my mother, it was a social more, one of which she still has yet to let go. It took her two days and a haircut to notice that I had got it pierced, thus, I very bluntly told her, "Mom, I've had this for two days. I can't believe you're just now noticing it." This, of course, upset her greatly. However, being eighteen, she could not very well make me take out something which I had legally attained.

I hope my tales become more exciting, or I at least learn to make them seem exciting.