October 09th, 2014

Night Shade Chronicle--An Introduction
By Diamante Maldonado (9/8/14)
     I started this project when I was a sophomore; it's an idea that I had for my capstone. This idea came to be from an assignment to write about our lives and the symbol we chose for our life story. Each one of the following entries has a theme and a symbol to it. The entries are also dated, as I plan to chronicle my walk through life during my high school years, both within and outside of this building. When all is said and done, I plan to pull all of these entries together into one journal of my life, which will be dubbed The Chronicles of Nightshade.

March 24th-26th of 2014
Theme: Unreadable
Symbol: Wind 
Vignette: Tiffany  

     “You always have this calm/serious face.” That’s what I was told in some form or other throughout my life. Sometimes it came out as “You’re so quiet.” I believe that began as early as kindergarten, watching my classmates talking and living in this classroom of energy. At the center was always this one girl named Tiffany. I think at the time she interested me because she was so different from me. Always talking, hand gestures flying. People in the room would glance at her from time to time, not in an upset kind of way because she was talking. But they looked at her because her voice projected. No, they were more curious about what she had to say. She was the epicenter and a little bit of our energy was also drawn in her direction. This was from a time when my quiet was due to innocence and, in all honesty, a bit of fearfulness that things wouldn't go well if I did try to talk more.
     Then a very unexpected and unprovoked thing happened. The epicenter took an interest in me rather than vice versa. Looking back, I think part of what drew me to her was that her energy was a kind one. So, on this normal day when she approached me and struck up a conversation, it was extraordinary. The details of said conversation I can’t recall, because at the time I was too surprised that it was happening to record them in memory and because it didn't withstand the test of time. But, at the end of it all, we were friends and that friendship carried on and I spoke more mostly to her or when she was around, but it was a start. By year’s end this friendship had collapsed and even now, as it was then, I have no clear explanation of how it happened because it happened so fast. One minute we were friends and the next I was playing defense while she angrily accused of me of something. To this day I feel I hadn't done whatever it was; in my being I believe it hadn't come to pass the way she perceived it and I hope I’m right. Then after she had had her say and I was left flustered and wondering what just happened, she whirled on her heel and left and I never saw her again.
     The wind that day had been blowing hard while I walked with my dad after school, sad because I had just lost my first friend. But my dad was happy, happy I had stood my ground. In all that confusion I do remember I had had a reply even if now I can’t call it back and that made me feel better. I looked up from watching our feet as we walked--his strides long and mine short, but quick to keep up with his. The wind blew my pony tail back and all was better; all was forgotten. The wind had been watching, listening as well, and had decided, like my dad had done, that the matter was not to be worried about further. That’s when I realized how sunny the day was, how blue the sky, and that a breeze to push back hot tight worries was really nice.     
     I was always the wind--there, but out of the forefront of everyone’s mind, observant and watching, catching little details.  “Panning the room” as my friends call it now, much like a camera does, recording everything. That is, until I want to be noticed, until I say something with those details in mind. That’s when I move like the wind, turning into a breeze or a gust, making myself known. An object that is both intangible and chooses when to give itself form to make itself heard and felt by others.


Theme: You’re quiet
Symbol: Night
Vignette: looking up through the skylight 
Story: Detail oriented creativity 
(Written the same day as the "Tiffany" entry posted above)

    "In the night, those are the hours where the veil is the thinnest." The beautiful eccentric details of the universe bloom. I too am calmest, most creative in the hours of darkness. A friend once told me, “You respect and love the night, but you also know enough to fear it.” The night makes everything deeper. In certain moments the emotions brought to the surface gain more depth because the night has seen it all. Tears, love, and all other emotions linger in the space of time like a perfume. 
    This aroma washed over me one night as I walked into the back room of my house and looked up at through the skylight. As I stood there, a sense of calm passed over me as I looked through to the low hanging branches that seemed to graze the window pane against a backdrop of ebony lace. This was further highlighted with the tincture of ocher orange that was the street light. It, to me, was a mirror that reflected many things, but one of the most significant and consistent was that it reflects my creativity. That was why it resonated with me so well. I found myself looking at the night and noticing all the little details that flitter through it as I make my own detail-oriented work. 
     This space of time has nurtured me, given me the ability to see what others cannot. Though some things aren’t so lovely and belong in the underbelly of the night, others are without a doubt as bright and mystical as the night’s stars. These things are fittingly wrapped in its alluring and mysterious elegance. I am happy to have this ability, though at times it may seem like a curse--often times the things that are the most powerful come as a doubled edged sword.  From it, my passion for writing sprang up or maybe it was reversed, happening around the same time so close together that I can't be sure which happened first. In any case, over the years the two have become intertwined. The night becoming something that veils my writing with an air of subtlety. At first glance it is indeed hard to understand, but once you do you see the meaning. 
     Most people see the night as just something to be feared or an ending. A place where not just the darkness of the sky is, but also the darkness of humanity lurks there as well. That is the concept. That is what they have labeled the night as. Though there is some truth to this, that is not all there is. There is a delicate beauty to it like the moon in all its phases and the stars. Gentle murmuring of the other creatures that live in these hours while the majority of us are asleep like crickets just outside the window; that is the other side of the coin. The night is not just an ending of the day, but a continuation of time. This is so that the sun may rise again, but for now let us rest in a quieter, gentler grandeur. That is the majesty of the night. 
     I think people labeled me that way, too, as something that couldn't be as easily approached as others, because I wasn't as readily understandable. To the people who were daring enough to walk in my perpetual night, I believe they understood. They found something greater than the darkness, lifted the veil of subtlety and saw my merits, saw the pinpricks that were my stars. Everyone has darkness inside of them; I encourage them to make it a night of their own--to stand under the magnificence of the stars and in the silvery Pacific embrace of the moon as I have.

March 26, 2014
Theme: Searching/Roaming 
Vignette: Seeing dainty white butterfly in backyard during the summer
Symbol: Butterfly
 
     “Something so dainty is flying under something as vast as the sky.” I thought that to myself when I saw a small white butterfly flying just above a leaf in my back yard. At the time, my grandfather was with me and he had spotted it first. He said, “I see butterflies like this when I go to Puerto Rico; there they have a lot of them." I watched the butterfly for a little while and to me butterflies always seem to be on some kind of journey when they are flying. With that thought in mind, I wondered how they managed to keep going such long distances, as small as they were. But then the thought came to me that a butterfly’s whole life is about a journey and a triumph. They began as small caterpillars and eventually are thrust into darkness, unaware that when they emerge they’ll be something more. They’ll be creatures with wings of vibrant colors, like this one with wings of silk. “Just when the caterpillar thought the world was ending it became a butterfly.” That’s the quote I think of when I think of their change; the strength of it. Yet butterflies are humble creatures. They do not know the beauty of what they have become, so are by no means arrogant. There's that quote: “Butterflies can’t see their wings. They can’t see how beautiful they are, but everyone else can. People are like that as well.” It suits them. I, too, hope to be that way as I go about my life, because as the quote says, people are like that as well. I and this type of butterfly can be seen in the same place--Puerto Rico--where I come from, so there already is my first step.

March 27th 2014 
Theme: Calm/Finding your Center
Story: Mom’s Table of Candles in the Dark
Symbol: Candle Flames 

     When I was younger, there was this large table in the center of the living room with a glass top and a black bottom with golden trim. Atop this table in the darkness was a spread of candles. This spread was always burning as one; the tiny individual flames would sway to and fro with their orange caps and reddish bodies. I always liked to stop a moment to watch the flames move about on their wicks, because it gave the room and the neighboring hall where I stood a sense of ambiance. Ever since I was little I had wanted to be able to do what those candles did upon that table, and that was to burn even in the darkness and gives a sense of calm. For as long as I can remember, I have always had anxiety about certain things like tests and giving presentations in front of people. Try as I might, I could never stay calm. So one day I want to be able to take a deep breath and relax where before I would have been worried. There is this quote by William Shakespeare that says: “Though she be but little she is fierce.” That is the quality that I want to embody--that sense of Zen that comes from such a small source and hopefully that will help bring me a sense of inner peace.

April 1st 2014
Theme; Warming/ Opening Up
Story: Mewing like a cat when stretching 
Symbol: Tiger/kitten 

     My close friends have always said I was like a cat, which is nice because it goes with my zodiac symbol of a tiger anyway. But I think a lot of little things came together for them to get this image of me as a cat. I've always watched things, especially people, as they knew. A bit sly with a calm demeanor unless provoked like when a cat’s hair will go up and put its ears back and hiss at you if you do something wrong. In school and in general you could also get the most expression out of my eyes. They are probably the most expressive part of me.  The icing on the cake though, was when two of my friends heard me stretch after getting up off my bed and exhaling in such a way that sounds like a cat’s mew after its been  sunbathing on the porch. I was always more relaxed and loose at my house than I was at school that’s part of why everyone thought I was really quiet.  I've always had to warm up to a person before I start opening up like how a flower opens slowly as if first peeking out into the world to see if it’s okay to come out.  Or more to my friends’ comparisons of a cat when it’ll watch you when it first meets you then slowly approach paw step by paw step and if you seem safe enough and still it’ll finally approach and start rubbing against you with a purr from its mouth.   In my case the first “purr” is when I talk to you a lot and the “rubbing” is when I actually let my guard down for you some everything else before would just be a paw step.  I hope each and every one of you has someone you feel comfortable to “mew” and be playful with. If you don’t maybe you should try looking for that person.  Talk to new people.  It doesn't have to be a full blown out conversation as long as the attempt is there. You never know some of the best of friendships begin from mere coincidental actions or words getting the chance to pass between the two of you, some of my best friendships started because of that.  Let your words and actions mingle with those of another today.

April 2nd and 7th, 2014
Theme Interactions
Story: Discovering what I write
Symbol: Music

I discovered what I enjoy writing over time. It at first was a very slow process.  My first stories were children stories from when I was in the fifth grade.  I remember my first story was about two boys who lived in a world where it was Christmas everyday and they in their own boyish way had to solve a mystery of who stole all the presents and halted Christmas in the recent days.  Looking back its kind of hard something that has helped steered where I went in life and resulted in me coming here sprang forth from a rather modest beginning. At that time I remember thinking that writing wouldn't be something I stuck with because I thought I couldn't do it that it was way too hard me and I wouldn't be able to make anything come out of it.  Then the sequel to that first book that really started to lean toward fantasy with the two boys’ time traveling to a time of kings, knights, and dragons. I wrote on and off after that as the summer came and went and it wasn't until the middle of 6th grade that I wrote my first ever full length novel with someone who I no longer talk to all that much it was about 200 pages, that’s a lot when you’re in middle school, granted, I didn't start and finish it all that year. My friend grew distant then so I was writing fiction and writing in general solo again.   I went months writing a little bit but just couldn't get into it.  It was then I really believed I’d stop writing permanently.  I realized something in the latter portion of my 8th grade year when my close friend and I struck up an idea for a book completely in the spur of the moment.  We developed a way to work on it together in such a way that was fun and even if it never did get published it was good writing training and at least we could have fun doing it as long as we wanted. I realized that sometimes for me I didn't enjoy the idea of writing fantasy depending on what it was on a large scale solo because when you have this idea and you think it’s great but your writing it alone for me there wasn't after a while an excitement for me in that.  Did I love my idea yes but for me I knew everything that was going to happen and the twists were harder but when I was writing with my friend and she came up with her own ideas and little twists that I didn't see coming but made sense all the pieces fell together I needed to be kept on my toes the thrill of writing came in the beauty and the mystery of it.  Also when I wasn't completely aware what was going to happen it helped me come up with more creative twists and give greater depth to the characters.  I had this thought when I was a younger writer that every word like a note in music had a sound.  Then when you put those sounds together you like in a song created a sort of feeling for the person who “heard” it.  Both things had to have a sort of flow and that’s why things didn't sound quite right sometimes like when you put a word that shouldn't be there or when you pause in a certain spot. In those times that silence left an impression better than a word would. I learned my freshman year that my “sound” tended to be a subtle one or maybe in music it would be a soft sound. Mine was a series of soft resounding sounds that strung together in a way that was nice only when the whole piece was played in my opinion. I don’t think I would have known that like I do now without Ms. Englart.  That I am grateful for having shown me (and for much else) as now I know what style my writing tends to take and I am not struggling to find it as much as I had before that’s what you call progress.  Sometimes my writing needed a partner and that was fine. In music you often need more than one instrument and in art the artist has their muse.  Art evolves and becomes possible because of interaction whether it is good or bad that is what I think. So the music coming from my headphones, the people I have come to know even if they remain now only in memory. These are all the interactions I need to make art. I once heard this quote from a show I watched and it goes “I have thrived in this city not because of who I am but because of whom I have come to know.”

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