Tomorrow will be three years since I graduated from high school.

Older folks laugh at me saying that three years is nothing in the scheme of life. My life as a public school, 8 am to 3 pm, quiet, shy, introverted, student is far behind me as summer camp.

Moving away from my hometown, was both a feeling of both freedom and independence, but it was also a feeling of wanting to stay behind, and take the easy way out of the life that still lays ahead of me.

He looks at me blankly. There’s just me, him. Us.
The next morning I leave at 8:00 am. Driving through town, I see my memories plainly.  There I am in the cafeteria, not satisfied with the small, designated portions of food served on my Styrofoam plate, asking for seconds. There I am during gym class, afraid of being picked last because of my physical appearance, and those big, faded pink glasses that dominate my face. There I am falling in love by the bike rack. There I am slowly realizing that my bike has gone missing from that same rack, stolen while I stayed behind in class, helping the teacher put up the classroom chairs. There I am calling my father from the steps of the library. There I am, half listening to my speech teacher when she tells me I need to start attending class more regularly, and disregard the fear I have for public speaking.

If I had known how much I would miss these sensations I might have experienced them differently, recognized their shabby glamour, respected the ticking clock that defined the entire experience. I would have put aside my resentment, dropped my defenses. I might have a basic understanding of European history or economics. More abstractly, I might feel I had truly been somewhere, open and porous and hungry to learn regardless of everything. Because being a student is an enviable identity and one I can only reclaim by attending community college late in life for a bookmaking class or something.
I’ve always had a talent for recognizing when I am in a moment worth being nostalgic for. When I was little, my mother would come home from work, her hair cool from the wind, her perfume almost gone, her lips faded red, and she would coo at me: “You’re still awake! Hiii.” And I’d think how beautiful she was and how I always wanted to remember her stepping out of the elevator in her pea-green wool coat, 27 years old, just like that. Sixteen, lying on the dock at night with my camp boyfriend, taking tiny sips from the bottle of beer. But high school was so essentially repulsive to me, so characterized by a desire to be done.

I didn’t drink in the essence of the classroom. I didn’t take legible notes or dance all night. I thought I would marry my boyfriend and grow old and sick of him. I thought I would keep my friends, and we’d make different, new memories. None of that happened. Better things happened.



Now that I’ve got your attention by naming this very first post after the sound the domestic feline makes, HELLO! And welcome to my first WordPress blog ever! Today is Thursday May 7, 2015. It is 10:38 am. I am feeling a little under the weather, but that did not stop me from being inspired to write to a wider audience today. I have other blogs floating around in the internet, but those were more about ranting about stuff. This will be the first time I ever write to and for the people out there.

Many people might not know anything about the person writing this, so let me tell you a little about the girl behind the keyboard.

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About the author:

Gabriela “Gaby” or “Gabby” or “Gabie”….Galvan* is a 21 year old TEXAS college student, sister, volunteer, friend, confident, activist, human, who enjoys spontaneous adventures, drinking coffee, and watching TV shows that aired way before she was born. She studies Radio/Televsion/Film and Creative writing at the University of North Texas. Set to graduate May 16, 2016. Being the oldest of three girls, she grew up being a precocious child and that led to her being independent from a young age. She likes music, A LOT. She is currently working on a collection of essays for a book that will let you know what she’s learned so far, and what she is yet to.

*I have not included my ethnicity because as you can see from my picture I am obviously of Irish decent.

So this is really, really exciting for me.
You see, I am used to writing for myself (if you are familiar with my popular blogger series you understand). I am used to being like, “Me, Me, this, that, him, him, they.” But no more! If you have been following my writing from my 2010 days, let me tell you that those self-help days are not over my friend. My writing style is still up to par, and you will get more of it all once my book is published.
But for now, let’s enjoy the fun that this wordpress thingy is.

Truth be told, I was actually inspired to write for the public by a very good, nice, handsome, friend of mine. (I hope I can call you that). He has his own blog and shared it with me the other night. He began writing when he was around my age, hasn’t written for 5 years, and he is now 29. So it really must be something to go back and read his younger thoughts about certain times, and maybe reflect on just how far he’s come since then. It was just something that made me think of how interesting it will be when I am 29 and decide to unearth the old blog and be like, “did I really used to say that?”

So here we go!

It is Thursday May 7, 2015, it is now 11:23 am.
And here is my song of the day.
Have yourself a good one.