Back to the Disaster

Get ready to do some heavy reading, folks. Here is the rest of Chapter 1 from my Beautiful Disaster.

We pulled up on 29^th street about twenty minutes later. The traffic coming down Broadway was tremendous, leaving us to make our way down the one mile drive slower than a snail climbing down a fish tank.

“Where’s the theatre?” he asked me.

“Right over on your left. You might have to drive around for a little while to find parking?”

“Why? There’s a parking lot right over there.”

“You’re willing to park in a New York City parking lot?” That seemed to have shocked even Mike.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I? It’s better than hunting for a parking spot for another hour. It’s no big deal. I do it all the time.” Oh, my God who the hell is this kid?

So we drove into the lot, Jacob left his keys with the parking attendant and ventured in to the small, old fashioned building.

This theatre, although rather small, only taking up two floors, one being full of offices, was so very dear to me. It was quite literally my home away from home. Aside from school, this was the place that I found myself at more than my real home.

I walked over to the elevator and when I pressed the button to go up, the light remained off.

“Yeah, so, we’re going to have to walk up, because they haven’t turned on the elevator yet. That’s pretty much used only for special guests like audience members and such.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about this place,” Jacob chimed in.

“Yeah, I guess you can say that I practically grew up here. My cousin used to work here, actually. Then I picked up the trade. It’s a great place to be. So if you will just follow me.” I walked towards the end of the hallway and opened the door to the stairwell. After an easy climb up one flight of stairs, we all found ourselves in the lobby of the very tiny theatre. Just as I was about to tell Jacob where to wait with Mike and Sarah, a very familiar voice called out to me.

“Amy,” David said in his very strong Australian accent, “why are you always here so early. Warm-ups don’t start for another hour.” David Thompson was the primary Stage hand at the Youth Theatre, and he was like a second father to us all. You could always tell that he genuinely loved each of the kids that he worked with. And we all loved him in return.

“I’m sorry, David. It’s a habit you know I am trying to break.”

“Wait a minute,” Jacob seemed a bit surprised. “Warm ups? You mean, you’re in this show? I thought you just worked here.”

“Well, I do when we’re not having a show, but for this summer, I perform. It’s nothing super spectacular like a Broadway show, but it is a lot of fun.”

“Amy, what happened to you?” David was finally able to get a good look at my now slightly scratched and bruised self. “You look like you were in a brawl or something.”

“Nothing quite so violent or risky, David,” I assured him. “Just a little fender-bender is all.”

“Well, let’s go and get you cleaned up.” David held the curtain to the backstage area open for me, and I followed him to the first-aid kit cabinet, leaving Mike and Sarah to purchase the tickets for the show and entertain our new found friend.

“Okay, so explain to me what happened to you. How did this happen?”

“Well, David. You saw that really, really cute guy that came in with us, right?” David nodded his head and I continued. “Okay, so I kind of got his by his car and-.”

“What?! What do you mean you were ‘kind of hit by his car’?”

“David, it was no big deal.” David rolled his eyes at my quickness to brush everything off. “It was very light, I barely felt it. Promise.”

“Very light? Amy, you have scrapes up and down your arms. You had to have felt it!”

“Well, David, when you get hit by a car, you sometimes have to tuck and roll. I just tucked really hard, hence the bump on my head and my rolling wasn’t so graceful.”

“What are you going to do about the bump anyway? You’ve got long sleeves on your costume, but no mask.”

“Well, that’s what cakey make-up is for. Anyway, stop distracting me from my story. He wanted to do something to make up for hitting me-.”

“As he should.”

“David! Let me finish my story, please. So he wanted to make it up to me, but obviously I had to come here, so I decided to invite him here. I mean, he’s really cute.”

“Wow, great story,” he said sarcastically. “There you go, all cleaned up. You may go now. But first, please be careful, Amy. You barely know this kid.”

“I know, but he seems different somehow.”

“Different from Jonathon? Didn’t you guys have a bit of a flirtation going last winter? I believe I recall a great deal of liking going on there, Miss Amy.”

“David we no longer speak of Jonathon, thank you. And it was not a liking. It was an outrageously stupid infatuation. And, even in the almost two hours that I’ve known him, trust me, he’s extremely different than that lying conniving little ass-.”

“If you plan on finishing that sentence, then you better plan on coughing up fifty cents. You know better than to use swear words here.”

“God, why are the rules here so juvenile?”

“Cause you work with eight year olds. They can’t be exposed to that language, at least not here. Who knows what they’re exposed to around the city?”

“Sorry then. Listen, everything will be fine, I promise.”

David stood there, still uncertain as I tried to reassure him, and I left him in the back stage area, still pondering my possible fate and return to the company of my friends. I still had a good amount of time before anyone else would show up for warm ups, so Mike, Sarah, Jacob and I found a nice spot to sit alongside the elevator door. As usual, despite our efforts to keep up the conversation, Mike and Sarah got lost in their own little make-out world, leaving Jacob and I to ourselves.

Right now, as I sit here thinking about the accident and how I almost lost him, I tear up. Could you imagine what might have happened had my dad not gotten there when he did?

My fellow cast mates soon began to arrive, each of them wondering who the new guy friend was, but keeping this to themselves, so they thought. Their faces were all too easy to read. Not much time was left to chat, however, for soon after warm ups began and so did the show.

Later on, after the curtains calls and complete departure of all audience members, a few of the kids from the show decided to go to dinner and, after assuring Jacob that he was allowed to tag along, our little quartet decided to tag along. The restaurant that we all chose to was only a few blocks away, so Jacob decided to leave his car in the parking garage.

Through the dinner, great conversation was had, between friends old and new, leaving me open to ask about this new person in my life. Whether or not I ever saw him again did not matter, I just needed to know more about him.

“So, Jacob,” I began timidly, “where do you go to school? I mean, you are in high school, right?”

“Yes, I attend 34^th Street High School, right off of Park Ave. I’ll be a senior this fall. And yourself, Miss Amy?”

Hearing my name come from his mouth strangely made my stomach knot up. I slowly felt the flutter of little wings flying through my stomach, and I noticed that I was beginning to develop a crush on this boy, this strange boy.

“My high school is on 68^th street. Upper East Side.”

“Really? Where?”

“Uh… 2^nd avenue.”

“What? I’ll be taking college courses at Hunter on Lexington. I start next week.”

“Really? Wow, what a small world.” I laughed at the song that was now playing in my head. “Um, what are you studying? At Hunter, I mean.”

“Well I haven’t quite decided yet. I just figured I’d start with some general education credits, maybe get a Liberal Arts Associates, and then start experimenting. Pretty bland, huh?”

“No, of course not, it’s just too much college talk. I’m almost sorry I asked.”

“Well, you’ll be there sooner than you think. Get a move on it now. Don’t waste your time for the future.”

“God, you sound like my dad.” I gave him a playful, gentle shove on the arm. Before I knew it, we had reached the restaurant.

The lighting inside was really low, almost too low to see our food. I enjoyed watching the way his eyes glowed in the light of the candles that sat on each table. I could see little flecks of gold in the sea of blue that his pupils swam in. It was almost distracting to me as I sat there listening to him.

“Jacob, do you mind if I ask you something?”

“Anything. What’s up?”

“Well, I don’t know how exactly to say this politely, so I’m just going to come out with it. How is it that you, at seventeen years old, can afford to park your car in a New York City parking garage? I mean, really. Are you related to Trump, or a Rockefeller, or something?”

“No!” he laughed out. “Oh, God, don’t I wish. But, of course nothing so extravagant as that. My parents, well, let’s just say that they’re well off.”

“That’s not being vague, not at all. What, are they drug dealers or something?”

“Why? Do you need a hit?” Jacob smiled shamelessly as my heart skipped a beat. I’m kidding, I promise. I know that I haven’t given you a whole lot about my background, but it’s not a happy place right now. I don’t really like to talk about it. What I will tell you for now is that my dad earned his inheritance from his dad, who was a big to-do kind of lawyer. You know the kind that never speaks to anyone in their family kind of lawyer. So, long story short, we’re a very comfortable family and I like to park in garages when I’m in the city.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry?”

“Is that a question?”

“No… uh, yes… I… I just don’t really know what happened, except that your grandfather died, so of course I’m sorry about that. But other than that, I don’t exactly know what to feel. Umm… okay so… uh…” It had suddenly become slightly uncomfortable with him. “Oh! Where do you live? I assume not here, since you said you like to park in garages when you’re in the city.”

“Well, no, not quite here. I’m right on the outskirts of Staten Island. You can take the Ferry over and I’m about five minutes from the port, driving of course. And you?”

“I’m in Morris Park, in the Bronx. It’s literally a hole in the wall neighborhood, but it’s quiet. I relish in the peacefulness.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I love the city, don’t get me wrong, but there really is no place like home.”

“Okay, Dorothy.”

“Hey, guys.” Mike leaned towards us across the table.” The bill has been paid. It’s time to get going.”

“Oh, already?” I asked. Mike nodded, pointing to his watch. It must’ve been getting late. “Oh, well,” I turned to Jacob, “do you want us to walk you back to your car?”

“Sure,” Jacob nodded his approval, “if you want. I’d like the company.”

Outside, I hugged my theatre friends goodbye with promises of seeing them at work the following day. Mike and Sarah also waved to them and quickly began walking in the direction of the parking garage. Once again, I was left behind, this time in the company of Jacob.

We walked in silence for a bit, making for perfect awkwardness between us, but after a few minutes passed, Jacob opened his mouth to speak.

“Amy, I want to tell you that I have had a great day, the best I’ve had in awhile. I’m so sorry again about hitting you.” I opened my mouth to speak, but Jacob instead cut me off. “Please don’t apologize back to me. It really was my fault, and I’m very sorry. Man, I feel as if I should be dishing out money to pay off your medical bills.”

“Jacob, seriously, don’t worry about it. You didn’t kill me, honestly. I’m fine. I guarantee you that I might be sore tomorrow morning, but I’m good. No emergency room visit necessary.” We had finally reached the entrance to the parking garage. I could see Mike’s shadow waiting a bit further ahead, but Sarah was nowhere to be seen. Knowing her, she and Mike probably got into an argument about something meaningless, and now she’s stormed off, swearing to never speak to him again. But tomorrow they’ll kiss and make up and it’ll be as if nothing ever happened. This was a normal occurrence with them.

“Amy,” I turned back towards Jacob, Mike standing just a few feet away, “I know we’ve just met, but, well, could I-. I pulled a napkin from the restaurant out of my pocket and handed it to Jacob.

“That’s my cell, so…”

“So, I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“I guess so. Goodnight, Jacob.”

I turned back in the direction of Mike and walked towards him while Jacob paid for his car. I couldn’t believe I had just given somebody I had just met my phone number. I felt a slight twinge of anxiety thinking that this was just a fluke. This was never going to happen. But, sure enough, right before I headed down into the station, my cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, so do you feel like going to see a show tomorrow?” I heard Jacob’s now familiar voice. “I know this quaint little theatre on 29^th street between Park and Madison and I thought you might like to go.”

“Oh, that’s too funny because I’m in a show tomorrow in a quaint little theatre on 29^th street between Park and Madison. So as you can see, I may be a bit busy to go see a show in another theatre on the exact same block.” I chuckled. “I’ll tell you what, how about I pencil you in?”

“That’s all I ask. Good night, Amy. Thanks again for today. I had fun.”

“Me too.” I smiled to myself. “Hey, you don’t really say quaint do you? Because if so, then I’m sorry, we just can’t be friends.”

“Well, that’s just too bad. Good night, Amy,” he repeated.

“Good night, Jacob.” I went to hit the end call button, but stopped myself. “Hey, Jacob?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for hitting me with your car. Good night.”

“Um… Good night?”

“Yep. Good night.”

After hanging up, I slipped my phone back into my jeans pocket and joined Mike once more to continue our journey home.

A bit of silly Poetry.

This was originally for an assignment and the goal really was to write something terrible on purpose, but I, and a few others i have shared this with, really find it to be quite comical. Hope you enjoy!

Swooning Over Fish

Laugh at the thought

At the store I bought

One of a Bazillion goldfish that I caught

At the river’s winding knot.

I took my fish home

And gave it a bone

That my dog left alone

Like abandoned glory blown

Far away into the rising moon.

Nighttime always seems full of gloom

When you’re left with nothing to do

Except gaze at the one you wish would swoon.

All around an abandoned apple tree,

You dance away the floating memories.

Flying high away with a whoosh to leave you be,

Until someone comes reluctantly

And shouts “STOP! What are you doing?”

The one whom over you are swooning,

And you begin to realize by thinking

That you were meant to be this being.

Short Story Time.

Barcelona Sunset

The sun beat down on my face as I walked down the main drag of Barcelona. The bag on my back began to weigh me down. I could feel my throat crackling from the dryness due to the sun. I had to stop for a bit.

I could hear some music in the distance and began walking to the area from which it came. I quickly found an old-looking pub that was emitting the sweet sounds of the guitar I had heard for so long through the streets.

My bags collapsed next to my barstool and requested that a glass of water be passed over to me. After a few seconds, a plastic bottle slid down from the opposite end of the bar and I devoured the cold liquid. My throat began to soothe and it relished the very welcomed drink.

As I turned away from the bar, an attractive Spaniard playing a guitar caught my eye. He played with such emotion. I could tell that he had a genuine passion for his craft.

I noticed him look at me as I was admiring him and quickly turned towards the bar. I could not keep away, though. I’d been many places before and met many different people, all of whom were fascinating. But this man, this stranger, was so interesting to me. Slowly, my stool twisted back in the direction of the guitarist, allowing me to admire his every movement.

His fingers slicked against the strings of his guitar with such professionalism, showing that he had played this hypnotizing song many times before. He continued to watch me, but it seemed not to bother me the second time around. Instead, I kept on watching him play his music. I was soon in a trance. The man’s fingers were moving so increasingly faster than before as the climax of the song approached.

Soon, there were three additional guitarists that were brought into my view. I knew they must have been there before, but for some reason, I just had not noticed them. The lead guitarist, the man I had watched do intensely from the moment I walked into the ancient pub, took the solo of the song in a magical bridge of music.

The sun began to set in the western sky, clearly visible from the pub’s dusty window, but I was rooted to my spot. The music, and the man, was now such a deep part of me. I had to know him and his music. The wait was almost unbearable, but I held it out. Soon, enough, his solo ended and he walked towards the bar, leaving the remaining three guitarists at the front.

Sitting just two small seats away from me, he ordered a beer and it was passed to him almost immediately. After taking a couple of thirsty sips from the frosty bottle, he turned towards me, giving me his full attention.

“What’s your name?” he asked me with much interest.

“Lucy. Lucy Cavelton,” He smirked at my name.

“Cavelton?” His heavy accent poured out. “I have not heard this name before.”

“Yeah,” I grinned. “That’s because it’s American.”

“Why have you come to Spain, Miss Lucy?”

“Exploration,” I told him. “I like to go somewhere new every year.”

“Did you like my music?” He had an intense look in his eyes, keeping me in his main view as he sipped his beer once more.

“Very much, thank you.” I took a sip from my water bottle.

“What did you think of it?”

The truth was I didn’t know how to explain the feelings I had developed for his music. It made me fly higher than the clouds. I could feel the cotton-like substance run through my body as I flew higher and higher. The heavens were clearly visible when he played.

He asked me if I would like him to play again. I would’ve, but we never made it to the private session. We walked down the remainder of the main drag, silently, as if the music had died. We reached my hotel after a mile or so.

“You never told me your name,” I pointed out to him.

“Carlos,” he whispered in my ear and kissed me on my cheek, as if to say goodnight.

I didn’t want to say goodnight to him. There was just something about him that I didn’t want, no couldn’t let him go. I would never have a chance like this again.

When he turned to walk away, I stopped him and made him face me again. Pure and selfish desire washed over me and before I knew it, I was kissing this man, a stranger more than anything else. But, for some reason, it was okay. There was nothing sinful about this kiss. I t was as innocent as a newborn baby.

When I pulled away from his beautiful face, I gazed into a pair of gorgeous brown eyes. We both knew there was something special there.

I decided to stay a few extra days in Spain. A few days turned into a couple of weeks. A couple of weeks turned into a month. A month turned into a year. And now, the night before my wedding day, I tell you the hopeful romantic story of my life. For dreamers everywhere, anything is possible if you only believe.

Love at First Ding

We decided to stop in Times Square first to see if there were any interesting acts to check out before heading to my youth theater. I, being the “boy-crazy” girl that I am, was looking all around at guys like a dog chasing a light reflection. And then, with perfect timing, I bumped into him. Actually, he bumped into me… with his car! To this day I try to tell him, convince him, really, that it was my fault. I was the one boy watching, after all. Isn’t it funny how the fates work?

He got out of his car immediately to see if I was okay, my knight in shining armor! I was a little sore, to tell the truth, but the second I set eyes on him I felt like I was in heaven. He gazed me in the eyes and reached down to help me to my feet. When I saw his lips open to speak, all I ended up hearing was the most beautiful song in the world, like the voices of angels were singing in place of his voice.

“Are you alright?!” his voice rand in loud and clear that time. Not quite so angelic, but still beautiful. I immediately snapped back into reality.

“Huh?” was my response. I realized I was still sitting in the street.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?” he gently helped pulled me up. My so-called friends weren’t even paying any attention yet to what had just happened. They were too busy sightseeing.

“No, no, no. That’s alright.” I limped up to full standing position. “I’m, umm… perfect.”

“Oh. Okay. Umm… I’m Jacob. Jacob Ramirez.”

“Oh. I’m Ambrosia Santiago, Amy for short.”

“Ambrosia? That’s a very interesting name.”

“Uh, yeah… my mother was, well, still is, a really big fan of Greek names, even though we’re all Spanish. I have a brother whose name is Jason, a bit more normal, but still Greek.” Oh, no. I shared too much, didn’t I? “I hope your car is not messed up.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m just relieved to see that you’re alright!”

“Me? Of course I’m alright. I’m a fighter!” I laughed at my own nervousness and slight stupidity.

“Umm… Amy?” called out a familiar voice. “Are you going to introduce us to your savior there or are we just gonna have to do it ourselves?”

Oh wow, my friends finally noticed that I am no longer trailing behind them. Amazing.

“Oh… sorry. Umm… this loud-mouthed friend of mine is Mike.”

“Hello, Mike,” he recited not being able to take his beautiful eyes off of me, which, of course, I had no objection to.

“And I’m Sarah.” Always the one to get ahead of the crowd, Sarah introduced herself in her best head of class voice. “What did you say your name was again?”

Jacob. I recited his name in my mind.

“Oh, it’s Jacob,” he relaxingly said and extended his loose hand towards her, the other one still holding me up. Sarah charmingly took it in an obviously flirtatious handshake. “Amy,” Jacob turned back to me quickly, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take you to the hospital. You bumped your head pretty hard. I think you should get checked for a concussion or hemorrhaging.”

“Nope, she was this goofy before you hit her.” Mike, he thinks he’s so funny.

“No, Jacob, I’m telling you I’m okay. Really!” I nodded my head in assurance. “You weren’t going that fast! See, I can even walk down a straight line.”

“Amy, that’s a diagonal line in the street. Not such a good point of proof.”

“Mike, shut up!” I spun so fast back in Mike’s direction I nearly gave myself whiplash. After a ‘devil stare’ towards Mike, I turned to face Jacob once more. “Well, um, it was nice meeting you? Yes, it was nice meeting you, Jacob. Thanks for, um, hitting me with your car. Please note the sarcasm there and, uh, have a nice day.” I began to turn away from Jacob to head towards the train, but then he called back to me.

“Amy, will you let me buy you lunch or something? It’s the least I could do after nearly killing you.”

“Nearly killing me? Please, it’s only a few little cuts and bruises.”

“Yeah… like that one… here,” he gently rubbed his thumb over the cut on my forehead. “Uh, you should really get that cleaned up.” He briskly took his hand away.

“Oh, well, thanks for the invite, but-.”

“You’ve got other plans, I should have known. I mean no one comes to Times Square just for the heck of it.”

He obviously did not know me.

“Well, yes. We do have other plans, but, I didn’t mean it like that. How…” I had to choose my words wisely. I mean, I barely knew the guy. “How would you like to join us?” Talk about being blunt. “We’re just going downtown to a show.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I wouldn’t want to impose on your plans.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t be imposing if you’re given an invitation.” Mike put in his two cents. “And, it seems that Amy really wants you to go.” I shot Mike a look of embarrassment.

Way to put me out on the frontlines.

“Well, I’ll go only if you are sure.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” I perked up. “Trust me.”

“Oh, well, that sounds good, then. I didn’t have much to do today anyway.”

“So it all works out. We’ll meet you down there. It’s on 29^th between Park and-“

“Meet me down there? I could drive you!”

“No way, dude!” Mike shouted. “We were planning on taking the train.”

“I insist that I drive you there.”

“Well, okay.” How could I say no? He was really, very sweet. So, we all hopped into his car, something I would never, ever do with a stranger, but there’s a first time for everything, right? Soon enough, we were on our way to the theatre.

Meet Mike and Sarah, The Biffles

I met Jacob on August 27^th, about a year and a half ago. Under the circumstances in which we initially met, it was the most perfect day I could ever have imagined, excluding those first few brief moments before I saw him, of course. For some reason, when I woke up that morning, I knew that day would be special. I had no way of seeing why or how I knew. I would just have to wait and see. But something was going to happen; I could feel it deep in my body.

As I lay in my bed, my pink tank-top raised up my belly from a restless night of sleep, I tried to decipher the meaning of my gut feeling. I soon got up, leaving my puddle of unfinished thoughts on my bed, and began the real part of my day.

After a quick shower, I got dressed and ready for my busy day. I pulled my hair back into a neat half- up do, double checked that my shirt was neat and my jeans covered my sneakers nicely. On my way out the door, I grabbed a cereal bar from the pantry and a small orange juice container from the fridge. My walk to the Number Five train station on Esplanade Ave. wasn’t a long one, but it allowed plenty of time for me to finish off my breakfast. It is the most important meal of the day, after all.

As I got closer to the train station, I could see the very familiar forms of my two best friends leaning against the outside wall. No matter how hot it got outside, they could never learn to keep their hands off of each other. I walked over to them and cleared my throat loudly. It didn’t work. I tried again, this time a bit obnoxiously, and they flew away from each other as if they were caught by their parents. The looks on their faces quickly went from terribly frightened to extremely apologetic.

“Not that I want to keep the young and in love apart, but you guys really need to learn to keep the PDA to a minimum. It’s kinda embarrassing to have to be seen with you two like that.”

Sarah and Mike both looked at me with a touch of understanding, but as Mike continued to grope Sarah’s rear end, I knew that no matter how much I said anything, my words were falling upon deaf ears.

“What can we say, Ames?” Sarah started coyly. “When you reach that level of physical interaction, it’s kinda hard not to touch each other at all times. You’ll see one day.” Sarah and I met in my freshman year of high school and quickly became inseparable. She’s become like an older sister to me. And Mike? Oh, what can I say about Mike? Even though he and I once had our time of puppy love, once he met Sarah, it was all over for me; He fell for her, and he fell hard. I really had no problem though because I had realized I had grown to love Mike as more of a friend, my best friend, never again to be anymore.

“‘That level of physical interaction’ will not be happening for me for a very long time, thank you.” I continued my argument for nonexistent sex lives and having to witness too much PDA. “I’d like to have something special left to give to whomever I marry.” I turned towards Mike who was still looking at Sarah longingly. “Hello there, Horny-boy. Please stop thinking with the little guy for once and pay attention. We have to go!” For a moment, it looked like Mike was going to try to comeback with some witty, and probably retarded, comment. Instead he refrained, perhaps figuring he’d lose the battle of words anyway.

“Well, hey there, Shorty.” Mike said. “What took you so long?” Michael Castillo. He was a handsome seventeen-year old. Standing tall at five foot ten, he left my tiny five foot frame trailing in the dust. He’s been my best friend since before I could even remember. Our moms go back to their day camp days. I really don’t remember a day in my life where Mike wasn’t around.

“Mike, baby, be nice.” Sarah stated plainly as she dusted off the back of Mike’s grey t-shirt. That wall sure was dirty, with the paint chipping off in the corners. Your shirt tends to get dusty when you are being smothered against a wall like that. Sarah, as we often referred to her, was our token white girl. But she had more of the Latin flavor within her than even I had.

Our main plan for that day was to go to a show at the youth theatre where I worked downtown; nothing extravagant, but a nice kid-full, family friendly show. New York is full of them. As we waited for the train, I told them about the feeling I had woken up with that day. Without killing our brains, we pondered the possible meaning of my feeling, but the train soon arrived and so began our downtown journey.

The ride was a bit bumpy due to recent construction on various platforms, but again, Sarah and Mike were caught in a lip lock to my great annoyance. Honestly, I was a bit jealous. I really hadn’t dated since Mike and I broke up. I really was beginning to feel a bit lonely. This wasn’t a “woe is me” kind of lonely, but, well everyone wants to have a companion; someone to just hold you when you’re down. But I was stuck with Mike and Sarah instead.

Why a Barista as your name?

Good question that has recently been brought up to me. Why am I the fictional Barista?

Well, quite frankly, the fictional comes from my attempts at one day becoming a published author. It's a dream of mine that I have been working on since before I can even remember. I wrote my first piece of anything at the tender age of six. Rose's Day, it was entitled. I read it now and laugh at how short and sweet it is, but nonetheless I am impressed by the advanced writing language used at such a tender age. The current project, Beautiful Disaster, is a bit more recent in it's timing, but still, I feel like I have been writing it my entire life. The rough starting date on that project is January 2004. Six years, and yet all I have to show for it is about 200 hand written pages, front and back, and stacks of typed, doubled- spaced pages, all spaces filled in with even more hand written edits and additions.

Now, Barista, well, if you know me well enough, you know that my paying living is as a Starbucks Coffee Company Barista. So, yes, I am always cracked up on caffeine. But hey, it could be worse, right? I could be addicted to tobacco or even worse than that. Keep that in perspective. My plan is to try to incorporate a bit of ahead of the curb information on the constant changes within my great company, be it with new beverages, reward plans or more. I'll even give you pictures! Ha ha.

So, until next time, yes, even though I am fictional, I do exist.

Meet Amy

This is copied directly from the first page of Chapter One of Beautiful Disaster. Hope you like it!

In a room at Albert Einstein Hospital, Ambrosia Santiago found herself being interviewed by an NYPD Officer, her wrist wrapped in gauze and an IV drip plugged into the back of her hand. She shivered at the sight of her current home away from home, remembering the reasons why she was there. In a matter of seconds, her life and the lives of everyone else in the car changed. What they thought was going to be a fun, easy night of party and cake quickly became like a scene from a movie, but sadly, this was Amy’s real life.

Without wanting to take too much time from Amy’s already confusing day, the officer started his questioning. He sat, notepad and pen in hand, along the edge of Amy’s bed, ready to shorthand all of her answers. A tape recorder lay on the bed in front of him to catch any details he may miss.

“Please state your full name and your age. Then tell me what happened from the beginning.” The Police officer stated.

“I’m sorry. Do I have to?” The young girl replied bleakly. She felt weak from the medicine that was dripping down her IV, helping to get rid of any discomfort she may be feeling. As she looked around the room at all of the high tech machines surrounding her, she began to feel lost.

“It is necessary for the investigation, Miss.” He extended his hand toward her and laid it on top of her own to instill a diminutive sense of comfort.

“Yes, sir, umm… my name is Ambrosia Marie Santiago. My friends call Amy.” The police officer gave her a stern look and asked her for concentration. She sat meekly on the bed, wishing that everyone and everything would just go away and she could be alone. But, instead, she pressed on. “I’m sorry, Sir. I’m eighteen years old. And, well, shit!” She slammed her hands down against the bed, sending a slight twinge of pain shooting up her arm and the tape recorder tumbling to the floor. As the police officer picked it back up, and replaced the batteries, she looked at him with an apologetic look. “I never meant for all this to happen. I just wanted to enjoy my party with my friends.”

“This party was when, Miss?”

“It was on New Year’s Eve. I know it sounds tacky, but it’s what my brother Jason and I wanted. Anyway, I really just wanted to have a good time with my three best friends, especially Jacob. He and I had been through so much together this past year that I just wanted to have the chance to try and make up for lost time, try to put everything aside and start fresh. I remember when we first met. At the time, that seemed like the most magical day of my life. He had these beautiful locks of chestnut brown hair, perfect lips and the most beautiful shade of ocean blue eyes I had ever seen. When we met it was love at first sight, at least for me it was.

Chapter 1

Setting trends hasn't necessarily ever been my forte. Following trends, however, seems to be right up my alley. So after taking notes of many others attempts at being bloggers, and being very entertained by them, I've decided to join them in their world. Better than beating them, isn't it?

So, throughout my writing process, for I am a self-claimed writer, I will be giving updates on life in Amy's world, hopefully also creating a way to motivate me even further to finally finish diving into her world. (For those of you who don't know who Amy is, pay attention. You'll learn.)

Look back here for excerpts and such, most of which I will really love feedback on until completion. You never know who might have a better idea for a scene than I do.

Also look forward to meeting Abigail and Amanda. (The A names weren't planned, I promise.) We'll see them at some point.

Well, for the moment, that is all. I hope to provide each and everyone of you with the best story line I am humanly capable of.

-The Fictional Barista