23 things you might not know about me

Today I would like to tell you a few things about me that some of you might or may not know or you’re just curious about knowing it.

1.       I like to do knots on my hair when I am thinking or when I’m bored. I don’t know why I do it, I think I just like the feeling of it.

2.       Every night I read a comic book of Uncle Scrooge or Donald Duck to help me sleep.

3.       I sleep with the lights on (not because I’m scared of the dark, it’s because I feel comfortable under the light).

4.       When I watch horror movies I always close my eyes for the entire film.

5.       I am sometimes too lazy to revise my work, so I just post it as it is.

6.       I hate surprises (especially scary ones)

7.       I never know what to do when I’m bored

8.       I always stop think about life when I’m in the shower

9.       My first kiss was from a fat girl in my school. We both touched our lips when someone pushed us together (read “My First Kiss on my blog if you would like to know more about it)

10.   Every time I wake up on Saturdays I think it’s Friday.

11.   I once caught a bird on flight when I was 3 years old.

12.   I’m not that much of a TV person, but I like watching two and a half men, Senfield and Big bang theorie.

13.   I think winter is the best season of all.

14.   I never feel cold (only in history class).

15.   If Vigan tells me tomorrow about the new “medal of honer open beta” thing,  I will punch him in the face.

16.   I hate horror movies, but I always tell my dad to rent them.

17.   I hate going miss meadows and show her my work, even thou I need to.

18.   I hate talking in front of the whole class or presenting something to them.

19.   I used to think Dexter was a comedy show.

20.   I just remembered that I forgot to give Miss Trius my brochure.

21.   My favourite holiday is Christmas.

22.   I celebrate st. Patrick’s Day even thou I’m not Irish.

23.   This is my first time doing this type of confection so I have no idea if I did it right.

Well that’s 23 things you now know about me. Hope you enjoyed

goodbye's

I was playing in my computer, and having fun with cousins. Doing what we do best; playing games. It was the time when I was 12 years old, living my life in the Caribbean. Where the waves hit the shore, and where with only about 15 steps, you would be already touching the soft surface of the yellowish sands. It was a good but small life, but it would all end in about 4 minutes. While I was playing, my irascible mother came across the door, with a depressed expiration in her face, “we are moving to panama”. Those 4 words was the reason my life changed forever, that would mean I had to say goodbye, which means I would have to meet new people, new places, and new life. That left me completely despondent. When I told my best friend about this, he would stay still in horror and make a tirade about how that was wrong and why did I have so early. I was expecting that.

The last day, I had to say bye to everyone I knew, which I hated, because I have moved for about 3 times already, and I hate  when people just ignore about what’s happening and just see me go away forever without any hugs or even any goodbyes while I fly away. But it was different, they actually felt sorry for me, after 3 years of ignoring how I feel; they actually felt sad that I was going away. I got group hugs, goodbyes, songs and even kisses (not the chocolate ones the ones you get on your cheek). I was really profound by it. I hit me in many ways, I had never felt so special like this before, and then I realized something, I had realized, that is never so bad to say goodbyes, only if you have friends that care about you.    

Dad

You have seen my birth.

 You will keep me till death.

You would cheer me up when I’m sad

You would help me in life when it comes

You would make me laugh as loud as a drumbeat

You would be my partner in crime.

Even though you would fail when you try.

You would always make me smile inside.

You would be my yellow

Happy.

Joyful.

Friend.

I’m stitched by your love.

When I look at a book

And remember your stories

The memories will whir inside my head.

I would jump on your shoulders

And you would be my legs

You would do anything for me

Because that’s what fathers do.

Your mom’s house in the beach

Would make me remember what you had done in the house

And what you have become

The Picking pears grandmother, would be you for me father.

After all the years that have pasted.

Even if you go.

Th’ memories would be mine.

The good and bad times.

With me by your side.

Me being the son.

You being the proud father.

Rocking birthday

Yes, some of you have known that yesterday was my birthday, and I’m finally the same age as everyone else (13), and I want to share it with you in slice of life Thursday. The day started normally, I woke up, feeling any different, and did my normal routines, and then I realize it was my birthday when I was almost done putting my school cloths. I was too tired to celebrate, so I wasn’t like jumping up and down and screaming “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME” like I used to do when I was 5. My mom and dad said happy birthday, and I went rushing out before they said anything else. I came downstairs waiting for the bus, like any day when I was 12. I got on normally, and I was happy that no one was screaming happy birthday -because I also feel stupid when they do that-, but when I got out of the bus, was a different story.

I got inside the building hoping that everyone forgot and that the day would be smooth sailing. I got in the wolf when a bush of girls started hugging me out of nowhere. I felt unconfterbul, but I was happy they remembered. The rest of the day was the same, but with a lot of hugging, happy birthdays from every single classmate, an awesome card (from who I won’t tell) and to my surprise, school was actually fun! I came out of science class in a hurry to go home and start celebrating, and see what my parents got me. I came out of the bus and surprisingly, I found my mom’s car past by, so I went to my house with them. We all had dinner and we ate an AMAZING DQ cake (witch I’m going to get a piece right now) with my favourite type of ice cream. Then the rest was boring. I had to do English homework AND I had to study for the math test today (yes, I still got work on my birthday).

The end of my birthday was the best part yet. After I took my relaxing bubble bath, we all went to eat at Hard rock cafe in Multi Centro. The whole reason I went there was because, 1, I have never commemorated my birthday in a restaurant. 2, so I could listen to music while I eat. 4, because I have never seen the hard rock cafes happy birthday song. What I was ecspecting was an awesome song of my choice and a whole band just singing happy birthday, but what I got was nothing. So when we were done, I had to hear my mom talking to the manager say about why her son didn’t get what he wanted. You can tell I was embarrassed. At the end, I got what I wanted (not what I expected), so I left happily thanks to my mom. Then a day passed and now I’m 13 years old. Feeling the same. Doing the same. Just like good old times.

why I hate fans

Why do people go crazy for pop stars? In my opinion, these people dont know whats their doing. They think their whole life is less important and amiss then the lives of Justin bibber, Jonas Brothers and every band out their witch is super famous. There are some people (like me) who when they enjoy the songs of a famous band he just goes and buys one of their CD’s like any normal person, but SOME people let the bands haunt their minds and do anything to listen or even to see them sing, this just leaves me completely despondent about their lives.

 I’m not just sorry for them, but I am also sorry for the stars that have to live with these kind of people. They’re just normal people like us. They live in a house (big house), they go watch a movie, eat, watch TV, but sometimes when they try to be normal, they end up with a whole crowd of crazy fans grabbing their clothing like a swarm of zombies, trying to touch parts of their bodies and then telling everyone else what they had done. That’s why some stars become recluse  or drug themselfs out because they cant live like that forever.

These people also don’t communicate with their normal lives. They spend their whole day making ugly posters for their stars and they spend the money they should be spending on food and helth, but their out their using it on tickets and VIP passes so they can meet their favourite people. Also one thing I don’t get, Is way they like to be around crowds of people for about 12 hours. That’s a reason why I don’t like going to consorts. I hate being in crowds of people, especially with fans of the show.  Another thing that annoys me is how some stars are affable with their fans, but some of them abuse their fans in a cruel way, and hide it so fans dont know. They don’t even care how the fans feel, they just impel people to listen to their songs and they fake it by saying how awesome their fans are and how the best thing about their career is about being with their fans. I could see that their lieing by the tone of their voice.

I had seen one of these fans. Once when I was in the Taylor swift concert in the Bahamas, There was a huge crowd of people trying to touch her body. There were people touching her legs and her feet, and I know she didn’t feel confterbul with it. In the end of the consert, I also found a babe in a cowboy suit, being hold by his own MOTHER in the middle of the other fans. I don’t know how he didn’t cry and I don’t know what kind mother would dress up her 1 year old baby in a cowboy suit. I would abhor with the sight of it. And that my firends, is the reason why I hate fans, and you should too (only if you are one).

love to travel

I want to confess how much I love to travel. I’m not one of thus people (like max) who only like to spend their whole summer vacation with a bag of potato chips on their lap and the TV control on their hands. I only do that on a school day. What I like to spend my summer vacation, is to go out and find something new. I love going to see new places and their most seen monuments, like the Eifel tower in Paris, or even maybe the big Ben in London. I also like to go to places where they never keep up to modern generation, because I like the feeling of walking on old towns or exploring old castles from a long time ago, I feeling like I’m going back in time, or maybe even being in one of those old folks shoes.  But I’m not only interested in old stuff, I also love going to science museum. I love seeking rockets and all those things, but the best thing about those types of museums, is that you can experiment with the objects around you. You can make magnets come together, you can make a rocket powered by water pressure, you can also see your own heat vision. But the best part is when I learn new things as I meet new places, learn about their coulter, see the countries heroes. That is why I love to travel.

born to create

There was this one day of my life, that I couldn’t take much boredom. I had watched all the movies in the cinema. I had finished all my homework. I had completed all of my video games. There was nothing I could do, but sleep. Sleeping is the last option on my list, so all I could do, is sit and stare at the white, innocent wall. “I had to do something” I thought for myself. I couldn’t do anything, I was too lazy and to bored to repeat anything I did that day, so I realized I should try something new. I realized I should try filming. I am growing up so I spend most of my day watching YouTube videos or just going out to watch whatever movie I think will be a hit, so now, I tried to do the same. I got the first thing that caught my mind, cowboys. I then started doing it; the lines, the characters, and the story-- everything a good filmmaker needs. I showed my dad his part on the movie, and he looked really proud of me. He liked seeing that I was making something and not just staring at the TV all day. Making a movie was great, I could pretend I was someone else. I could put myself in another situation, and I could create things with my imagination. From that day on, I didn’t stop making movies, I made movies from horror to drama and adventure to romance, and I also started making Lego figures and making movies with them. I then realized. I was born to create.

"To My Mom"

I used to be calm.

I used to hug her tight on her legs.

I used to nod with everything she said.

I used to light up her life.

I used to have fun with her.

I used to be nice.

I have seen the fireflies on the night sky

But darkness is what I had become.

Her eyes would flood with tears when I go out with my friends at night.

I see sparks from her hair as I turn up the volume.

 She shuts the door when I look at the bright light

Of my computer

I ignore her advice and end up in fights.

I insult her which words witch I throw like knives.

She would slam the table with a BANG.

I could feel the fever of her rage like a drumbeat

We would scream for hours.

She would grab me tight by my hand.

And would look at me with the face of a thousand volcanoes.

The grimace in your face cut my heart.

 We have come apart.

Those days of love are over.

I have ignored her.

I have changed mother.

And now I’m struggling.

I have turned.

Into darkness.

Mad.

Alone.

Heartless.

HELP!!!

Daniel B.


Mount Everest

Cave 123#, Bigfoot Street





Dear Joe Bouzas



I have been living in these mountains for quite a long time, and I’m feeling kind of lonely, and I’m scared of the anonymous figure that walks around my house every night. My conjecture is the figure is the abominable snowman- the famous monster we always used to talk about when we were kids- I’m trying to extricate from this fear, my mission here in these mountains is to espacially find the monster and capture him in sight, but every time I see him, I end up failing, and and hide in the corner and suck my thumb like a baby. you know can’t contfront that monster alone, I need your help. You’re the only one I know who’s from my generation, and that knows how to help me better than anyone else.

I know how we always used to pretend we were adventures out on the mountains, and you would always the bravest and kill all the monsters before me or be the first one to climb up. I had always appreciated you brave disposition, and now is the time for you to use it. I hope you understand how imperative this is, I hope you still have that courage of yours, I haven’t seen you for so many years, I forgot what you look like. I’m inside the cave located in the mountains which encompass the village, the biggest one in the middle, come fast, I can hear his footsteps comming closer............




From your cousin

Daniel Bouzas

needles

I was a little kid. It was my second time here in the hospital of Sao Paoulo, I was going to take another one. Another one of thouse shots when the shove a needle into your skin and and you can feel the cold metal inside your arm while they suck out your blood cells right off of your body, like an annoying mosquito. I dispised (and also mosquitoes). That’s why I it took 5 minutes to take me out of the car, thats why they had to pick me up, bring me inside the hospital, and strap me in a chair to untill the doctors call my name. I looked around at other kids, all calm watching the mini TV that is located in the room, not knowing of what will be comming next. And me, sweating, heart pumping, going crazing, and making stuff up to get me out of the horrible place as soon as possible, but it was too late, it was my turn.
I passed the hallway of hell as I heard  the scream of terrified kids as I passed by the doors. And there it was, my room, waiting for my doom.

 I went throw the door, with my hand squishing on the hands of my mother, and there was the doctor, holding the needle, just to get me afraid before I die. I sit down in the seat, terrified, and before he could stick it in my arm, I slap her in the face, falls to the ground. I had killed the murder. Well not really killed her but it hurt her. The next thing I remember was another doctor coming in, and a sense of pain in my right arm. I’m still terrified of needles, and I can’t stand looking at them inside my flesh, but now that im  more mature, and I try to ignore the pain so I don’t suffer as much.

Easter Hell/The beginning of a war

Monday, September-06-10



They were all coming. The whole generation of the Bouzas coming to join a fine dinner in Easter Night. Celebrating Easter is imperative to my family and to my whole country. People buy these delicious chocolate eggs that give an anonymous gift inside every egg, which gives us rainbows in every present. We party all night and have our tummies full after a long night of BBQ and traditional fish. In my opinion, Brazil is Easters main city, but this Easter, was like hell to me. Everyone came to party, my grandparents from my mother’s side, the grandparents from my dad’s side, and my uncles from my dad’s side, my cousins. Everyone came, but some people were missing. Everyone was here but my mom’s brother. We waited and waited, but they never came.

My cousin Victoria walked slowly to my room, with an upside down smile stuck on her face. She lay flat on the bed, crying, because her father had missed Easter. I sat their beside her, trying to calm her down with slight strokes in her hair, when a scream came from the hallway. That’s when it all started. It was my uncle on the phone, I was happy he was alright, but there was a twist. My mom was mad because he didn’t come because of her wife at the hospital, of course she understands why he can’t come, but the problem was that they didn’t even make a call, or even tell their daughter what was going on.

My mom was infuriated, her disposition changed to calm to extremely mad, she was mad at my brother for not doing anything, and her mom was mad at her from getting mad with her brother. That night we were all quiet, nobody talked, only us kids who were playing GTA 4, talked among each other. From that night, my mom never talked to her brother, and I almost never see my uncle so often. We used to always play together. Me and my cousin. But now it’s over.

my normal mornings

Today started good. I woke up from a great dream about man eating flowers. I got up, sat down at my bed for 1 minute or two, forced myself not to fall asleep, and went to the bathroom. I sat down and accidentally fell asleep again, but woke up with the sound of an angry tiger. My mom.

I got up, got dressed, trying to ignore the annoying sound of my mom’s complaints while I gingerly put my cloths on while and listen to “dynamite” on my iTouch. I went to the kitching, with the bowl of cereal waiting to get eaten. I eat it while I read my unread homework, and go to brush my teeth. I got in a fight with my mom (every day she screams at me) I know she started it, but she won’t admit it, she always screams at me when I wake up, she says I’m getting too grumpy, but I know it’s not true.

I wait a half a hour for the bus and checking my stuff as time goes by. I get on, grumpy, annoyed. I sit next to a kid, he tells me to leave, so I sit next to my other friend, who I starting avoiding this week since he always plays with my Itouch. But today was different. The battery had died so we played with someone else’s (I don’t know how we got it, I guess it was luck). Bus ride to school is normally boring, but today was pretty fun, he wasn’t that annoying today. I get to school (late as always) and go to my Spanish class to begin begging my Morning torture. My mornings are always the same, and I got to say, it’s a drag.