mynamemeanscherry

name is cerissa…like marissa or carissa but deranged.

Outstanding Oscar Speeches

I am currently in tears after hearing Graham Moore’s speech about how he attempted suicide at age 16 and  encourages kids to stay weird, to stay them. I have never been so inspired. Yes the movie,

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The Imitation Game deserved the award but I believe it was meant to be. A higher power permitted this man to give his speech to inspire suffering outsiders around the world. It was meant to be. That speech had to happen. The world had to hear it. The amount of bravery and courage it took for Graham to get up on that stage and mention a time of pain on an international awards ceremony show was enormous, I praise him for it.

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John Legend and Common Selma gave a remarkable performance and speech for racism. The speech was moving and beautiful. The speech had the crowd in tears. Chris Pine was shown crying and at the end of the performance he shot up clapping furiously, as did the rest of the crowd.Both the speech and performance of the song Glory well deserved the standing ovations.

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When Eddie Raydeman won his Oscar for The Theory of Everything I had never been happier witnessing the amount of joy that he portrayed. He shook with excitement and thanks during his entire speech. He dedicated his speech to patients and families with love ones suffering form ALS which I thought was beautiful. He deserved the award and for the large kiss he gave his wife when he won, he definitely deserves a “one night off from listening to me complain” pass.

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Now…Patricia Arquette. PATRICIA ARQUETTE, proudly stood on that stage with the world staring her down and defended all women around the world. Sexism is a large issue in today’s society and women need to take a stand. Meryl Streep and Jennifer Lopez leaped from their chairs out of happiness as Patricia Arquette and I would like to believe every women hearing that speech did the same. I sure did! I’m so proud to be a female in this world, I will fight for change.

All of the speeches tonight were very beautiful. The show was amazing and I do no regret staying up till midnight to watch the entire thing.

Items around the house

grocery list
coconut oil
a princess pine
an inanimate girl enjoying her wings

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This Afternoon’s Journal Entry: A Pause in the Earth’s Rotation

http://mynamemeanscherry.me/journal-entries/

2/25/2015

A Pause in the Earth’s Rotation

My grandmother was recently diagnosed with cancer and had her breast removed yesterday. I don’t even know where to begin, this woman came out of surgery smiling, not crying and was ready to take on the world. She was talking and within the hour she was walking. We laughed and she told me all of the details about being put under the anesthesia and waking up feeling like her head was swarmed by strange, invading clouds. She was glowing. During her surgery, I wandered around the hospital, which was actually very peaceful. This hospital didn’t seem to be in a state of worry or rush and if so, i was either blind or they were keeping it all a secret. There were no young children running around with large balloons or accumulative crowds of people waiting to be addressed by busy nurses. Everything seemed stuck. This hospital was a pause in the Earth’s rotation.

I found a large, slightly dirtied window. I could tell other impatient individuals had been here before because there was still condensation impressions on the glass. From the looks of it, someone had leaned their head against the window and possibly took one of those painful moments of reflection just before I had arrived. Maybe their pain was still dwelling within the area because I could almost feel their heart aching for comfort.

The view was beautiful. A panorama of the snowy Catskills miles and miles away was clear as day from this perspective. It was there I developed a true love for these giant mounds of solid rock. The entire idea captured me. I felt as if I was trapped in a snow globe but the beauty was not around me but instead outside of the inch, thick glass. The forecast for the afternoon called for heavy snow between 4-8 inches and imagined the white,pouring flakes racing down from the sky at that moment. I was stuck in a reversed snow globe. I felt content, almost safe in my personal bubble miles from these mountains. As I turned to walk back to the room, I was halfway down the hall when I had realized unconsciously I too rested my head against that window and now, I was almost sure that the person before me was not experiencing pain, but rather discovered comfort in their reflection. Just like me.

Go Down the Rabbit Hole: A Writer’s Manifesto

Writing for Digital Media

1. You are the work. The work is you: both an articulation of the self and a possibility for self-reflection. Be honest in creation: allow yourself to bleed into the work, but also allow it to work on you. Your work can show you things: illuminate and clarify your own thoughts, motivations, actions. If you do it right, you will find the work changing you, too.

2. Thinking is process. Laying on the floor. Sitting on park benches. Getting lost on purpose. These are all working. Learn the difference between mindless distraction and mindful wandering.

3. Go down the rabbit hole. Sometimes the work isn’t about what you think it is. Allow yourself to get lost down alleyways, to follow a train of thought around a corner. Don’t feel you need to reign yourself in. Too much focus squeezes all the possibility for revelation out of the work.

4. Fear…

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Recap in Awe

For the first time since September of 2013, I reread my piece Spacious. When I posted it, I didn’t have the chance to read the rest of it. Theres a lot of pain in that piece. Some of the words emphasized for screams and I know that at one point in my life that’s what I truly felt. As if I needed a guy to rely on all the time. Looking back on it, the scene hurts my heart thinking about all of those years done suffering from someone else’s fault, someone I should have been looking up to, but to recover from everything, the change is grand. I went from the mean and hurting person I was to an independent,healthy and happy character. I have confidence and pride in myself, I’m surrounded by such beautiful,amazing people where I now stay and I couldn’t be happier. These are the friends I was meant to have and this was the life that I deserved but without the pain and without the hurt I wouldn’t be where I am today, so strong and brilliant. I’m thankful. 100% thankful. I might have to do a recap of that piece, almost like a transformation.

So many good things are to come, as will a relationship when life happily grants me one that I’ll finally accept. When I decide,bud.

Evolution of a Reader

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This afternoon I took the blue, wool blanket off of my hospital bed and found a cozy windowsill to coop myself up in. The view of the Catskills was perfect, the snow on the mountains projected the shadows and curves of the protruding giants so greatly, the landscape was absolutely mesmerizing. I found my book and sat there reading for hours. My grandmother gasped and said “Cerissa! I love this! I have to take a picture!” and thus, this idea was born. The Evolution of a Reader by Cerissa DiValentino.

Train of Shattered Gems

I don’t like the way time dribbles between my fingers, a stream of unholy adventures and filthy,mutilated thoughts. I do like how minds differ by the inability of the human mind to correlate all contents in time. Best said by H.P, not me. Oh no.

The farther the train travels, the faster the steam spews,the richer the ruby mind.

I yearn for ideas similar to foreign gems, for blood more divine than a crystal’s structure. A crave for pure, enriching, prosperous love. Nothing less than impressive letters dripping in a midnight aura.

Love seeps into the vast spaces the mind cannot grasp, the vast spaces that shall never touch ends. These reaching hands that will never touch, these binding fingers that will never lock. The ruby mind fades to an emerald glow, angel like, lovely in a resplendent way, delectable in a sappy,gratifying taste.

I don’t like the way time escapes my body, depleting to nothing in moments. I do adore how love gently floats into my void, licking the walls of my mind that my thoughts shall never encounter. And although I may never meet the half of me, the love that meets me will.

Deprivation

Written March 24th,2014, two days before my brother’s birthday. I remember faintly that I couldn’t sleep this night and I was writing a 2 in the morning, knowing I would have to wake up in a few hours for school.

her mind gives her no mercy tonight,

her makeup the tan of weeping

raspberries,skin baked in icy veins and bone scraping pain

what a heated heart of absorbed moonlight and the night’s yellow dust she hides.

long streets,pouring rouge and thick clouds, throat peeling screams.

burning tears rise to the ashy red road of capillaries in her eyes

behind walls of thin ribs, a cage of flowing happiness

snow cakes the spaces between her toes,the vulnerable holes in her chest.

bleeding beauty,yelling hopelessness.

dirt and dry mud paint the crevice of her toenails

oh what a beautiful brain she holds,

the juices she pumps in her veins, the ones that sting and sizzle on the warmth of her insides

a crumbling body melting like drenched wood at the heart of a crackling fire.

piles of ice steam away as they fall to her surface.

kissing her bruises, the colors that make her build the artist’s canvas.

feeling and losing the ability to feel,

soaked in numbness,

afraid of the suspenseful fear that flourishes within her.

chipping away at the strength of her heart

her thoughts run on novacane tonight

sweet,sweet novacane.

spilling,curling in folding waves

tumbling over and under,

failing to find stability beneath her.

starving for love and open arms.

abundant blanket of miniscule bumps creeps to her outer layer.

the moon’s messages swaying around her wrists and ankles,

painting a picture of loosely tied ribbons around her pale body.

shes coming to a dead end of cloudy dirt roads and unlit alley ways.

a shortage ending her stash of colorful juices that embrace her bones.

alley ways where the homeless kiss the world goodnight,

where the click of gun’s play.

the tires run cleanly beside her,

the engine roaring at her heels,

aware of his presence but keeps her empty eyes set on the miles ahead.

“Do this.””Little one,the rent is due.””Little one, you’re okay.””Little one,do this.”

the tap her heels sing ceases to dance with the pebbles of the deteriorating pavement.

pivet.

pop of the door.

what a beautiful,horrendous routine.

the warmth of her seat embeds in her cracks and flushed cheeks.

“Just the hour little one, just the hour.”

oh how powerless she feels.

a prisoner to her own will.

The curls bounce around the sharpness of stinging eyes like hers.

lips pierced with tightness.

fragile and shedding.

the snow melts under the tips of her fingers.

one button. two buttons. undone.

“ you’re okay, little one.”

after a corrupted heaven falls under the minutes carrying tired seconds,

the smell of raw money in the palm of her hand gives her might.

to sell her dignity for a piece of warm paper that has more worth that she ever will feel.

for a pillow. “please, a bed.”

tears fall from her grey eyes that hold hideous photos.

forming roads streaming over the ruby rouge that has brought purity to her face.

unaged but slightly tattered.

for once, she needs a grip that will hold her sorrow and squeeze her tight in love, not pleasure.

she needs what she wants and barely wants for what she needs.

but a string of pride and untouched hope ties a ring around her neck.

to be loved,not lost. beautiful, not a toy. independent, not a sample.

the pills look to the sun by morning from her hands.

right hand, pills. left, the burn of cold vodka.

swing,swoosh,swallow.

“Little one, you’re okay.”

Spacious

Written September 23rd,2013.

I want to see the moon.

It’s craters,holes and loveliness.

I want to see space.

Experience its cold bite,it’s blackness and forgiveness.

I want someone to hug me.

To feel their breath through the fibers of my sweater while they bury their soft features into my shoulder.

To hold them.

To know them.

To care for them.

I want someone to want me.

No. Not in the way a man wants a woman.

The way a child wants his mother,or the way a sister wants a brother.

I want protection and love and care.

For someone to stay no matter how much I push them away.

No matter how many miles I distant them from my thoughts.

I  want someone to dig deep, to think about me and to call me randomly one night to express how much I mean to them.

How much does it take to ask for love?

To pick me up,bring me places,explore something new.

To write notes,letters,leave hints or signs that they’d been there earlier.

To spend days do nothing together but knowing it meant everything.

To sing,and dance and drive all over.

To talk and cry and listen.

To respect and love and care.

I want someone to stay.

To mean it when they say they’re staying.

To mean it when they say they’re not leaving.

To embrace the idea,to work hard for it.

To show a girl of no trust,loniless and confusion how a bestfriend…how a person who cares truly is.

To have no one.

To have nothing.

Begging for someone to fill the void and save them from their terror of drowning and losing.

Lost their battle.

Lost their war.

Lost their pride.

Lost their life.

SAY YOU’LL STAY.

STAY.

SAY YOU WON’T LEAVE.

Don’t. Don’t leave.

Just stay and tell me stories.

Know when I’m mad,I want you to stay.

Don’t walk away. Don’t.

Stay with me.

Because for every damn person that’s entered my life,made a promise,broke it and left…scarred a heart wrenching memory upon myself.

Upon my skin.

Upon my face.

There is nothing to cure a broken promise.

A promise meant to be full of hope and happiness.

A broken promise meant to be harmful and heart wrenching.

Stay.

Save me from my nights of hiding.

Nights of sad music,burried in blankets and no light.

Stay.

And keep me company.

Promise?

Nova

Beginning of a story I never continued. I do that fairly often unless I absolutely adore the piece.

I was five years old. Winter brought aching winds of red lashes to our pale cheeks and numbing fingers. My feet kicked up broken twigs, dead grass and muddy snow as my mother pulled me by my arm through the woods. I was lost in a moment that didn’t catch too much of my attention. I stared deeply at the trees and how they looked so lonely. Mother ushered me to keep very quiet before we left the small cottage that I knew..running. Why were we running? That I couldn’t answer. Tears streamed down her face, red and pinks swallowing her face whole. She was heaving and tired but, her strength seemed greater than ever. A sky of ash and grey clouds painted the world around me in a way that didn’t make me feel so comfortable. My joints ached at the continued amount of force that was being pulled onto my left arm. But Mother told me to be quiet. I didn’t say a word. Racing past dead bushes and leaping over fallen trees, not turning back once. My mind felt empty. Thinking too much of leaving the animals behind, the little garden of tulips and Ruby back at the cottage would throw me into hysterics. The wind would slide against my face and tears, making my body more freezing than it was. So I didn’t cry. “Nova.” Her voice sending a storm of chills down my spine. Something in her voice made me want to break to pieces. We stopped running and I could feel the soreness growing in my arm already. She looked directly into my eyes. I’ve never noticed the dark circles that rimmed underneath her lashes until this moment. She must have aged in those very seconds, wrinkles stretched along her forehead in fear like I’ve never seen before. “I need you to trust me.” Mother says. Why? Why are we running? Where are we going? “I need you to hide here until I return, okay? It’s like Hide and Seek!” her lips danced in a rush, her eyes staring into mine and over my head behind me constantly. Leaning in front of me so we were about the same height, she grips both my arms and smiles. “I love you.” She’s holding back an avalanche of tears, I can see them faltering behind her eyelashes but she knows she has to be strong. For me. She pulls me into her chest. Her touch is cold but her chest is warm. Running her fingers through my hair, I lay my head on her shoulder. This is the part she picks me up,  I fall asleep in her arms and we go back home. I’ll wake up to warm soup and Ruby at my side in my little bed of meshed sheets and fluffed pillows. Wrong. Oh, I was so wrong. She lifts me up and places me into a hole in the ground that squeezes my sides. Dirt stretches across my elbows as she lures me down. “I’ll be back, I promise. I love you. Don’t be scared. You’re strong and so very beautiful, Nova.” We stare at each other for a few more seconds before she leaves me in the quietness of my hiding space. I listen to the sound of her feet digging into the snow as she runs in the direction of the cottage. I fiddle with my fingers and poke holes in the mud beside me. My legs grow tired and all I want is the warmth of my bed, Ruby at my side. Ruby. My only friend. Roughly damaged at the ear and stains from many stories on her belly, but still as fluffy as can be. Mother went back to get Ruby. She’ll be back. She promised. Wrong again. As the exhaustion flowed throughout my body and finally met my eyes, I couldn’t help but curl into my knees and sleep. As I began to dose off, the greatest sound I had ever heard rang through the holes of my ears.Boom. I lifted my head from my knees and managed to my feet. Fire. Drowning the trees in an orange and black, spitting through the sky, dancing on the leaves. I placed two hands on the outside of my cubby in the ground and raised my eyes to meet ground level. Miles and miles of fire. “Ruby..Mommy..” I say in a whisper. I was no longer strong. No longer scared of the freezing of winter on my cheeks. Tears swam from my eyes and whimpers cried out from the pit of my throat. “Mommy!” I screamed. No answer. Just the crackle of the dying woods and creatures burning to death. A hand reached for my mouth and yanked me backwards. I was running. No not running. I was being carried by someone who was running. My eyes met his and I lost all urge to cry. Who are you? What have you done with Ruby and my mother? Why are you killing the forest? My eyes focused on his. Gentle lips and a scruffy face. His hair bounced at every step he took, and for some reason, I wasn’t scared. We ran for what seemed like forever. That was the last time I had seen my mother.

““I’ll be back, I promise. I love you. Don’t be scared. You’re strong and so very beautiful, Nova.” Wrong yet again.