That 1 Tank-top

I have a closet and a dresser full of clothing. I have so much that I can't even count them. With all these clothes there is little need to have one that I can't live without, but I do.I have this one shirt I adore. It's this old, size 12, tank-top. It's white with little shimmers on the top and the bottom and it goes with everything. I have like 5 different outfits that depend solely on that top. I buy shirts that go with that top. Whenever it isn't in my closet I go search through the laundry baskets to see if it has been washed yet. I have no idea how that top can still fit me; it's probably because its been worn so many times that it's all stretched out. I'm always telling myself that if I ever find a top like that one, I'll buy five. I'll buy them in all the colors they have available! I just love it. Until I find an identical one, I'll be wearing, washing, and continuing to wear that old, size 12, tank top.

How Many Are Willing to Go This Far?

Friday afternoon, we arrived at the court. Victoria now informs me that I have made a mistake. I meant to say, the clay court. Let me assure you that in tennis there is a very very big difference between cement and clay courts. Just a little while before it had been pouring without any sign of stopping anytime soon. Luckily, the rain had been reduced to either a heavy sprinkle or a light drizzle. The rain had left the courts looking like splotches of red mud with almost unrecognizable white lines etched underneath it. She kept her cool, explaining that clay court dry quickly, while I remained skeptical.

Victoria's coach was late to practice that day, so we had to wait in the "office." Office being a tiny room with a desk and a couple chairs. Of course, all the chairs were taken, leaving us with only one option: the window sill. This sill is probably the most uncomfortable thing you will ever sit on. Saying that half my butt was comfortable would be an exaggeration. This sill allowed for like a fourth of your butt to be on it. I could've been far more comfortable on the floor of the "office," but the red clay dust makes for quite an embarrassing stain on khaki pants.

When the coach finally got there it was still drizzling. Victoria wanted him to wait for the rain to pass so that she could play. So we waited for about half and hour and when we went back out it was still drizzling. She looked around for her coach, but evidently he decided he wasn't going to wait for the rain to clear out and had left quite some time ago. Seeing this Victoria decided we should walk around this portion of road that she runs on to practice her eight-hundred meter race. At first sight the lap seemed pretty small, but when we started walking I saw that the lap was at least three times what I had anticipated.

We walked about a lap and started in the second. My bladder then decided it was full and I really really had to pee. I alerted Victoria and we started walking as fast as we could without looking weird. About half way to the bathrooms we noticed that a huge puddle had developed in the road. We kept walking, determined to get to the bathroom, as if nothing. A car was approaching so we got as close to the curb as we could. If the car had continue to drive in a straight line it would have just cruised by, however in Panama, driving is a game to see who can make everyone's lives much much harder than they have to be.

So, the car turned ever so slightly to the right speeding straight through the puddle and drenching us with nasty and utterly disgusting unidentified liquid. We both screamed rather loudly and stood there motionless in complete shock of what had just happened. We had no where else to go, so we kept walking, soaked in God knows what, until we made it to the bathroom.

As if to make things worse the bathroom was really gross. There was mud on the floor, and none of the stalls were even remotely clean. I settled for the one that had the least mud and the cleanest toilet seat which I covered with about a million layer of toilet paper anyways. I washed my hands, but of course there weren't any paper towels to dry my hands or even to try and wipe of the nasty liquid we had been splashed with.

Victoria, now starving, decided that she wanted to go to some little store to buy something to eat. When we walked in this horrible stench hit me like a ton of bricks. It was like a mix of dead cat and rat. I have never had to hold my breath that long. It was truly disgusting.

I couldn't believe what Victoria was willing to put up with to make to the top if the tennis world. This everyday? I would have quit a long time ago. I had never seen someone so concerned with a recreational activity before. She was so passionate about tennis that she put up with this almost everyday. She must really love it. But I will never understand why anyone would go to such great lengths to play any sport.

Mirror, Mirror

She looked in the mirror.
The cold,
Unforgiving,
Mirror.

Mirror, mirror on the wall…

That exposes what you are;
What you
Look like.

But she,
Sees it differently
Than others do.

Mirror, mirror on the wall…

She
Found a million things wrong
With what she saw.

Mirror, mirror on the wall…

Her hair: greasy, gangly, gross
Her skin: dry, dirty, disgusting
Her lips: slender slivers
Her eyes: uneven, unexceptional, unfavorable

And through her eyes,
She saw

Her soul: doubting, disappointed and turned dormant.

Could there be a fairest one of all?

Missin' you...

Camila Gomez
15 Amazing Ave.
Charlottesville, VA

September 8, 2010


Dear Sabrina,

How have you been? I was wondering how you were, so I decided to write to you and see how you're doing. I hope you didn't have to modify your routine too much to get used to your new school. Here we all miss your fun-loving, and bubbly disposition. Sometimes people spontaneously say "I miss Sabrina." Sadly, close friends moving is prevalent in Balboa Academy; It's a common recurrence. However, I still believe that it is imperative that we keep in touch and never forget that we are best friends, and soul sisters!

Missing you,
Camila Gomez

Zip the Lip

I confess
I didn't tell you
because I knew I'd be summoned
to your desk.

You'd ask questions,
use Wordly Wise words.
Say subtle things in class
about it.
Whether the others knew or not.

Asking us if we understood,
when you know we did.
Only us.
We do,
We do understand.
Understand
what you're trying to set up
by saying that.

That's why I didn't tell you.
Why I kept quiet.
Why I didn't mention anything.

I'm sorry I didn't
I know I should have...
maybe.
But at least,
now you know
why I zipped my lips.

Be More Observant!

The normal lunch chatter ended a few minutes before the bell; giving us just enough time to pack up our things and get to class on time. Everyone had finished their brownies, but I hadn't gotten one. We were on our way to science with Mrs. Vallarino when it happened.

"What's on your pants?" asked a janitor with a grimace. In sheer horror, I turned to look, only to find a think brown smear all over the back oh my khaki pants. Oh my God! The brownie!!! I quickly backed up against the wall and begged Sabrina to cover me as I ran to the girls bathroom.

I arrived late to class, in P.E shorts, with an embarrassing pass that said "Girl thing." Not to mention the humiliation of hearing Mrs. Fennel laugh and holler: "Camila! You eat it the other way!"

So for your sake, and mine, look before you walk and most importantly (live by this) look before you sit!

Uneventful...

"What should I write about for my Slice of Life?" I ask Miranda. She pauses, thinks for a little, but obviously didn't think that carefully 'cause the only thing I got out of her was: "What happened to you today?" I roll my eyes at the stupid question. "If I knew about something to write about I would be writing it, Miranda dearest." I glared at her for a couple minutes and then she finally worked up what she probably thinks is a writing prompt.

"Worst teacher ever! Who is it?!"
"Miranda,even if I hated a specific teacher I wouldn't post it on the internet!"
"Oh..." she simply replied. I sat frustrated, and confused. My life is so uneventful, and the things that are important I'm definately not going to post it on a blog...

I never know what to write about. It takes forever to come up with any decent topic.