Our One Year Anniversary - Our Many Years of Friendship!!!!!

Christmas 2014. Mima's house.

Thinking that I'd be even close to fitting everything I have to say on a tiny card with hearts is crazy.
I'm going to ignore the concept of "corniness" and just go ahead and write what I feel. Read it as a journal entry to the public? But mostly an open letter to you, Stewart.

Stewart, if you're reading this out loud in some voice to make me feel embarrassed stop it! I'm sweating just writing this, especially because I haven't written in this blog since July!

Most people know about love because they themselves love. They have this fire inside of them that even science can't figure out. Chemicals? Genetics? Who knows?
But my feelings for you are so so different than that.
I don't just love YOU Stewart
I love every fiber of you.
I love every musky breath that escapes your lips and every hardly audible grunt you make when you're uncomfortable or dissatisfied with a chapter your reading.
How about your scruffy beard and white teeth (which you refuse to agree with me on how perfect they are)?
Your puffy face when you wake up in the morning and grab onto me for dear life because you don't want to open your eyes and start the day yet.
Your soft chuckle and rare boisterous laugh.
I even love your terrible habits like your nail biting and how you constantly pick your skin.
Not because of the act of actually doing it but because those are the things that make you you.

I love how smart you are and how you can read an 800+ page book in three days or less even with a packed schedule!
How about all of the times in the past that lead up to now?
How nervous you were trying to ask me out when we were in high school.
That night at Nay Aug, it had to be Junior Year, when we were walking in the dark and looking at the Christmas lights. You asked if I wanted to ride on the carriage that was drawn by an old horse but I refused because I thought it was expensive and felt bad for the horse.
You didn't say much and it made me nervous so I tried talking about everything and nothing.

We must have walked for about 45 minutes until I began to get cold and we headed back to the car. You kept looking at me and I kept looking away and I swear it was just when you opened your mouth to say something you tripped over that terribly placed wire that held up a stream of lights and flew through the air. It sounded like a little plop as you hit the ground and when you looked up at me with those embarrassed eyes I laughed so hard I thought I would die.
Your face turned a darker shade of red than the scraps on your hands and legs!


From website link (https://sites.scranton.edu/sarahmueller/2013/12/)

How about the very first time we had an actual conversation?
It was freshman semi and you were sitting alone at a table with a miserable scowl on your face. That was your first year at Old Forge. The white table clothe in front of you was glowing pink and yellow because who ever planning the event thought it would be a good idea to let our class have glow sticks.
I asked you what was wrong and you pointed to your date who was dancing with someone else and then to the sole of your shoe which was hanging onto the bottom lining.
Me, being the weirdo I was back then, asked if you wanted my gum to wedge into your shoe. I told you it would definitely keep that shoe in one piece.
You politely declined but I insisted. After all, I had to have nearly an entire pack in my mouth.
You never did take that gum.
I remember coming home and telling my mom about the boy with the broken heart and shoe to match. I referred to you as the new kid never knowing we'd be best friends just two years later.

Cinemark Parking lot with the O6. (group name courtesy of Seth.)

Sophmore Year of High School

Some years later you'd be dancing with me in college. We'd be dating now, but only for a few months. Our friendship was already matured but our actual relationship was just blooming.
We'd be kicking silver balloons around a nearly empty dance floor because who would come to a sober event in Bloomsburg on a Friday night?
The tempo of the music we were dancing to would get faster and faster and you'd lift your hands up in anticipation of whatever came next. I'd be dancing just in front of you and waiting for the hilarious move you were going to pull off not knowing you would bring your hand down as hard as you can, perfectly matching the house music drop, onto my hand and destroy the tendon that ran from my palm to each of my fingers.
I know you still get upset about the fact that you even remotely hurt me but it's not the hurt that I think about it's the time we spent in the hospital together.
You apologized constantly as the nurses treated me terribly and denied me an x-ray.
When I finally talked my way into the ER you refused to leave my side and held onto my good hand with tears in your eyes.
How gentle you are.

 Great Gatsby Galla at Bloomsburg university. 2014

A little party never hurt (except it totally did)

That same year, but in the second semester I'd be in the same ER fighting off a terrible case of food poisoning and being treated terribly but the same crew of nurses. They didn't believe I was sober and after throwing up so violently and freezing in that terribly cold room I would prefer to not be.
Yet again, you stayed by my side for hours without complaining once.
In fact, we even took some videos laughing at the state I was in.

                                     

"They took my bra. :["

And I know that if we didn't ignore the signs before we actually had the chance to date maybe we wouldn't have had such a rocky road but driving on that road with you makes it all the less terrible.
Construction takes a while but if you're sitting in the car with good music and good company than the wait it worth wild.

Thank you for letting me be your passenger for all of these years.
Thank you for loving me.
Thank you for everything.
I love you so much!
Happy Anniversary!

No, this wasn't really how we started dating.

Yes, he sighed for a good 20 seconds after the video was over.

A Few Smiles :]

Living on Campus: Elwell Edition. BloomU!

Welcome to Elwell Hall! If you weren't a people person you are now!

(That should be the official logo.)

The halls are small but not nearly as small as they look in this picture! It's a clean place and everything is pretty new! My favorite feature in Elwell were the water fountains that you could either drink out of or fill up your water bottle in. It's great if you're a gym person and want to bring your own bottle.

Helpful hint: If you do go to the gym a lot I would suggest buying a nice water bottle from the University Store! The water fountains can be found at the gym, library, and other commonly used places.

Here's Courtney (my roomate) after Tiny the goldfish died :[ .

This year I think I'll get two betas and put a separator in between  my ten gallon. It'll be a nice, healthy environment for our new little fish!

If you're wondering about what kind of animals are allowed at the University please view the BU Living Guidelines here:

Guide To Campus Living: Bloomsburg University

^This link will open in a new tab.^

The CA's (Community Assistants) decorate the halls very often and during our move in we had such a cool theme! It was all Hollywood themed. Super cute! We had the best CA's on campus so it was obvious that we always had such creative decorations!

As for space .... well, there really wasn't much of it. We were never placed in a tripple (thank the heavens!) and we made best of the room we had. There were always decorations up and if someone wanted to come in and chat there was always room.

The drying rack you can see on the bottom left wasn't always there and most the time my hamper was tucked under my bed.

There was just enough room to fit a blow-up mattress in between our beds for sleep overs.

This was my little office space.

Yes, it really is as small as it looks.

It wasn't that bad. The only thing that was super annoying was trying to figure out how to open those drawers behind me.

During the second semester I brought my Desktop PC to Bloom. I detached the shelves you see above the computer and moved them under the window. I kept my books and shoes there for the rest of the year.

Halloween was terrible. I'm not going to tip-toe around it!

I invited dozens of people to join me in the fifth floor lounge of Elwell. I even posted on numerous social media websites.

About three people showed up (because they were walking by on their way out to a party and saw that I had bought candy.) Some people stayed and we played a few games.

A young man that I had met brought two of his friend who had only showed up for booze. They left soon after. Good riddance!

Bloomsburg University is a dry campus so even thinking that I would have alcohol in a LOUNGE was incredibly idiotic. If I even enjoyed drinking I would be way more sneaky about it! SHESH!

I would say the only time I was genuinely upset about leaving my hometown was during Halloween. I always threw THE BEST parties at home. I won't be attempting another party until I have my own apartment (which will be Junior Year. PLEASE GOD MAKE IT JUNIOR YEAR)

NOTE: Bloom U is often called a party campus and it very well is. There are dozens and dozens of apartments surrounding the campus along with Frat houses and Sororities. They're great for getting out and having a hell of a night on the town!

If I was a big boozer I'd love it! 

I suppose the failure of my party was a little bit of my fault for even thinking it would be successful when the nightlife was crazy on Halloween!

Maybe this year I'll be out and about like everyone else?

merp.

Obviously we had Christmas off but that didn't stop Courtney and I from putting up decorations.

(She's going to be a great CA this year!)

The workload wasn't terrible.

There are a lot of essay's to write and you should learn APA formatting.

There are a lot of books to buy.

There is a lot of organization.

All and all, if you have your head on straight (or even just a bit sideways, like me) you can make it here just fine!

Break up your studying with adventure! Go out with a few friends and have a walk around town!

Take pictures, play games, be young!

Courtney finally proposed to the silver husky! How romantic!

My boyfriend and I liked to take staged pictures in our spare time.

Shhh. I like to scrap book.

We always had so much fun!

Yes....those are empty juice bottles and mouth wash.

There's a park just down the road (it's within walking distance) and it had pavilions and places to grill some yummy meals! Stewart and I took some great pictures there!

Keeping a journal is always helpful. If you don't have one you should invest in one! Pay a bit more for something you'll like!

I like to buy journals that open all the way and have just enough space to write a page in every once in a while.

Doodling helped me during pretty much every anxious study session break.

There is an Apple Bee's just down the road! Here is Stewart talking about how much he loves looking at clouds and chasing butterfly's. As you can see Courtney is surprised by this behavior.

Have fun and Good luck!

10 College Protips: The Freshman Guide to Keeping Sane.

Eat: 3 meals

Sleep: 7 hours

1. Know The Weather.

If you don't already have an app, DOWNLOAD ONE!

Why have your presentation day ruined after working so hard on your outfit, a poster board, etc. when you could dodge the rain with an umbrella!?

TL;DR Bring an umbrella and rain boots!

2. Be Prepared.

For everything....

I was known for throwing on my pajamas after my classes. Fire alarms happen ALL OF TIME. My pajamas don't include pants....so....always keep a pair where you can grab them.

TL;DR Extra underwear, extra sheets, extra makeup and...uhm.... wear pants?

3. Clip Those Coupons!

A quarter comes to a lot when you're about to sit next to someone you know you'll talk to. Too bad you had that chili bean soup and now your breath is terrible! If only you had a quarter for the gum dispenser!!

Honestly.... this happens!

If you see a nice money deal take it! I bought a reusable Starbucks cup  (that I didn't think I'd get much use of). I started getting coffee everyday towards the end of the second semester and with a reusable Starbucks cup a certain percentage is taken off of your purchase! For a cup of regular coffee I was paying less than a dollar!

TL;DR If you can save money save money!

4. People Are Going To Flirt With You.

Yes, even if you're in a steady relationship and it's clear to everyone that you love this person. Yes, even if you aren't on Tinder. Yes, even if you're wearing a ring! There will always be someone around the corner looking for some flirty love so they can get some sort of sick rebound if there's a chance it won't work out with you two.

Some people won't hesitate to help home wreck........

.....

......

...........

TL;DR Learn to say no to cheating and yes that includes flirting.

5. Sometimes People Are Irrationally Rude.

My lovely roommate Courtney (<3!) along with a plethora of other super smart people we both know are ASL Majors and often times I would be in a room that was completely silent but filled with conversation. You pick up little words like "Ball, House, Friends, Candy" and eventually use your context clues to understand sentences here and there.

Bloomsburg was the only place that I had to fake being deaf because I wouldn't yell back to a guy who was belligerently drunk in the hallway and trying to hit on me. I was soaking wet, in a flimsy towel, and couldn't see three feet in front of me without my glasses.

The conversation went something like this,

"Ohh....ohhhhhhh. Hey there."

"...." *tries to get into room quickly*

"Okay, f*cking b*itch, then don't answer."

*puts down shower caddy and signs "Ball inside of House. Friends Eat Candy. Church Church deaf."

"WTF, What.... I CAN'T UNDERSTAND YOU WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?!"

*smiles and enters room.*

TL;DR Mace is always a good purchase.

6. Humans Are Gross.

Communal bathroom are terrible terrible places.

I believe that stalls should be covered from head to toe so there are no cracks to look over, under, or above.

Especially for those who are bladder shy and always will be!! ....okay, moving on.

The girls room always seems to have wonderful bodily colors on the walls, floor, and toilet seats.

I mean.... maybe it's some sort of primitive territorial calling or something?

Either way, if you didn't think the hoard of females stationed here on Earth are always cleaner than boys then think again!

I once walked in on a conversation between two girls as I was unpacking my shower supplies in the larger stall.

"That's the stall Em got sick in."

"Ew, no I thought it was the handicapped one."

"No it was that one. She was just shoving chunks down the drain."

I was wondering why the water was building up. The hotter the water I used the more sour that stall smelled. Ew, stop.

TL;DR Sanitize everything.

7. Money Flies When You're Having Fun.

This one explains itself.

Finals week to me meant flash cards, snacks, candy, new pens, pencils, and OH LOOK! Those socks are on sale.... gonna need about twenty of those.

TL;DR Only buy what you need not what you want.

8. College Is Not High School

Surprise! You can bring water bottles to class, you can wear a hoodie, and you don't need to find a nurse to give you an ice pack if you've somehow been impaled by the horn of a narwhal. 

But keep in mind, sometimes it gets lonely. You're friends who have been there since you were a kid are somewhere different than you and doing something much different than you used to do. There are more strangers around than friends.

And like I said, sometimes people can be rude. Make sure that before anything else you know you can tolerate yourself because there are going to be times when it's just you and your mind. Don't be one of those girls who goes out every night and party's just because there is nothing else to do. Don't lower your standers because you're bored.

Just learn to be okay with the silence. Learn to be okay with just you.

TL;DR Find who you are and what you stand for. Being lost is okay, being hopeless is not.

9. Get a hobby. Nurture your passion.

Find time in your day to do what you love. If you like to write but can't find time to complete entire stories, write a haiku a day. If you can't find time to sing join a choir group. There is always time to fit passion in your day. 

You wouldn't want stress to water down your creation so don't let it!

TL;DR The best way to stay happy is by doing what you love.

10. Be you.

Don't be afraid to laugh louder or cry harder. It's your time now. Find you!!!!!!!!

Graduating and Moving on in Old Forge

Junior Year Blues

Senior Years Blues

College Freshman Year Hope.

CLICK HERE FOR AUDIO by Amber Allegrucci

Growing up in Old Forge was different for everyone. Either you didn’t have a lot of friends, you had a moderate amount, or everyone in the entire school district knew you, your brother, and your cousin’s child’s cat’s name.

          I fit somewhere in the moderate column. I had a few great friends, a few friends who flew off the rocker and took others with them, and friends who I haven’t spoken to until recent Facebook messages begging for drug money.

          Currently I’m climbing my way to the top of the “20 year old” mountain and I’m trying to stomp over the “16 year old hill” that I can’t exactly seem to climb over. It feels like it’s way too easy walking over this giant 20 year old mountain but excruciatingly difficult walking over the 16 year old one.

          When I was sixteen I had a sturdy amount of friends. Three different groups.

1. The Older Girls – Made up of about three girls who I was supposed to graduate with in the year 2013. Lost touch, got it back, lost touch again. Currently close with one of these girls.

2. The Girls. – Six girls who frequented the parties I would hold in the empty half of my house. Always dancing, always singing, and always finding a way to make each other smile. I speak to about four of them but within strange time frames due to college, work, and relationships.

3. The Guys. - We coined the name O6 somewhere in the three years we were in each other’s presence but never used it. It stood for Original Six and if you ask half of them I’m sure they wouldn’t even remember it. These five guys tore me from a terrible depression during my freshman year of high school which left me with barely any friends. It started with bonfires, a lunch table, and then soon we were having our very own parties.

          We never really needed drugs and alcohol because we were so hopped up on each other’s presence. If one of us didn’t like something another one of us would. Each of us had such different styles and tastes. We were below the “popularity” line but never really cared much for it anyways. Life was late nights, mountain climbing, fort building, trips to Walmart, dancing, house hopping, swimming pools, video games, screaming, laughing, crying, singing, green grass, and black skies.

          If anyone ever asks me what the best year in my life was I would say my sophomore year. If anyone would ask me when things started to decline it would be junior year. Girlfriends, boyfriends, misunderstood feelings, cars, jobs, college decisions, family.

          Have you ever broken a bone? Well, whenever it’s about to rain you get this strange ache deep within your bones that tells you way before it starts to pour. Junior year I had that in my chest. I had that ache that told me that all of those beautiful moments that make me smile when I close my eyes wouldn’t last forever. It was never personal, it was always the system of life.

          Senior year was the worst year of my life. Until now I haven’t written about it in full and I will wait until I am fully healed to do so but what I could say is that the ache that I felt turned into a lightning strike straight to the heart. I almost didn’t make it. That’s all I’ll say for now. I’ll say that I held on by the thread of my graduation cap.

I don't have many pictures of myself during the later half of my senior year but here's one a friend snapped of me in our "party house". 

          I want to go back to sophomore year so bad, if not, than only once in a dream. I want to go to the football games and jump fences. I want to talk about secrets and goals around a camp fire again. But I don’t want to do any of this with my twenty year old self. I want to do this with my sixteen year old self.

          Here’s the kicker to it. I knew that this was going to happen. Of course, I had no idea that things would end up the way they have and if I had I would have transferred schools years ago. I’m not lying. 

             I did, however, know that LIFE, as the adults put it, tears pieces apart and glues them onto something else. Picture a painting with stunning blues and greens. A giant hand comes down and tears off a piece. The hand then moves this piece onto a new painting filled with oranges and reds. “This is your new home.” The hand says as it waves goodbye. The oranges and reds don’t know that the blues and greens are different colors but the blues and greens know and they long to be a part of that earthly painting it once was. Sure, it could be torn from the new painting and glued onto the old one once more but the cracks around the edges of the tear will always show on the surface. The painting will never be the same.

          Here I type, during the summer after my first freshman year of college. I’m sitting at the desk I have had since middle school. Sharpie writings on it read different things in different languages that my poor father has tried to wash clean for years. My favorite one lies just beneath my right hand. In Korean it reads, “Even in the mouse hole, light shines.” Somewhere I see that light shining and it’s becoming more and more beautiful by the day. I have hope and that hope is the boots, rope, and gloves, on my journey up this “twenty year old mountain”.

I suppose I don’t really have a creative ending for you in this post, my readers so I'll leave you with something I had written about a week back on a Facebook post which I’ll share below.

With so much love, Amber Allegrucci

THE WORST FINALS EXPERIENCE?

It's ten in the morning but I've been awake since six. My heart is pounding but I'm not sure if it's the caffeine I've been practically injecting into my veins or my nerves eating me away. I imagine a little ball of anxiety rolling around and colliding with the walls of my brain and with every hit he yells "OW!" in protest. For anxiety I would think he would come up with something more unique than "OW!" but hey... it's his decision and who am I to confront my own anxiety.

Here I am waking up at six o'clock. I'm fabulous. 

So here I am... sitting in the theater lab going over my lines a dozen times. Once with my eyes open, another with my eyes closed, and the last one with one eye open and the other closed. If there was more time perhaps I'd try some kind of fancy yoga position and speak them in Korean while juggling. I know these lines. Hell, I've went over them so many times I could write a novel off of them.

That's why when it was my turn to go up and preform in front of the class I wasn't nervous in the slightest. At least until I opened my mouth, spoke the first minute worth of the monologue and then started stuttering and making up my own configurations of what I believed to be words.

... I'm pretty sure it sound something like,

"Dan and I both have dates tonight which would normally scare me but blerg a der ah. Hergie derble? Ah, Hergie derble blash."
What? I'm pretty sure those are not words.

Yep.... I blacked out! Your very own public speaking performer Amber Allegrucci royally messed up on the lines she woke up two hours to practice for!
Bringing back memories of when I was singing the national anthem (which is at a way higher pitch than I can sing in!) at our senior awards night. One of the worst nights of my life , not even including that....

"Okay," I thought, "It's finished. That's another final down."

I told myself after messing up on the theater final that I should reward myself with some buffet food and while I was eating calmly and trying to think about anything other than what had just happened a couple sat behind me and immediately starting impersonating Kermit the Frog while speaking into a banana.
It was fine, I loved it, for the first minute or so. It wasn't until I sat there and listened to them practically spitting food into each others mouths that I realized I was sitting next to two squawking birds.

All right. I'll just head back to my dorm, listen to some music, and maybe write a short story or two.
I walk back to the dorm, in the rain, and finally I start feeling at peace with the thought of being able to see my roommate and tell her what had happened.
I opened my door and thank god my roommate was there! I actually laughed as I recounted what had happened. She reassured me and told me it wasn't as nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

When she left, my dorm neighbors decided to play some video games that must have inflicted some sort of mental reaction that makes them open there mouth and bark like sea otters.
To which I replied with a vine (RaggedyAmb) I apologize for the language friends, family, and future employers. Now I'm sitting in my room, curling up under my sheets, and trying to find something to distract me from whatever my final grade in that class will be now.

Don't worry. It's almost over! The summer is within reach!

Cheating: Down Low

You love. You love so hard that it feels like your heart will either fly out of your chest or sink to your toes. When you speak to your lover it's like you have your own language. A special collection of your favorite words and sounds made just for your ears. The way they walk towards you always seems like they're running. You strive to look your best so when he/she glances at you for even just a second you'll look just the way they like. You lay next to them and drink in their smell. You close your eyes and feel their warmth. It's so special, it's all so beautiful. So much more beautiful than anyone else has ever described.

And now it's over. The moment you find out that heart that held so much love drains out so quickly  you begin to shake. Words crash into each other and you try to speak but there is no way even making a sound will help. This doesn't make sense. This doesn't make sense at all. They would never do that. They would never do that to me. It's impossible. I know them. I know them better than anyone else.

Anyone who has ever been cheated on, abandon, or replaced holds onto that love that they shared with their partner. Which is strange because you would think that hatred would just overcome someone in this sort of situation but in my person circumstance I hated myself more than anyone else. All of the good memories are washed over with some strangers face. Your lips on his and then his on hers. Your lips on hers and hers on his. Your lips on his and his lips on his. Your lips on hers and hers on hers. It hurts the same. We all hurt the same.

I hated how easily it was to be replaced. How simple it seemed to say goodbye.


Dreams become filled with terrible images of them smiling and laughing at you, your heart crawls to your throat and strangles you whenever you see this person now, whether it be the cheater or the one he/she cheated with. It won't go away and it's everywhere.
Sometimes you cry so hard it doesn't feel like you will ever stop and other times you can't cry at all and you hate yourself for it.

Depression sets in.

Your weight drops

You turn pale

You don't want to get out of bed.

Your grades sink.

Your work becomes nothing but a signature.

You go to bed thinking about it. The sun sets. The sun rises. You wake up thinking about it.

No one else understands.

No one else knows.

And it truly does feel that way. It honestly feels like you're screaming in a room crowded with people and no one is bothering to look your way. Our love was so deep. Our love was so pure.

But honestly, and just hear me out, if someone left you for someone else after you've given them your everything then maybe you should take some of that everything and give it to someone else because you are not worth that. You are worth so much more. And for you to be feeling the way you are about it means that you were the one with the heart in the relationship. YOU WERE THE ONE WHO MATTERED. So now you take the time to plug your heart into the wall and recharge because you need all of you to find someone who matters just as much as you do.

Good luck on your adventure.

How My TERRIBLE TEACHER Became The Reason I Write.

There are certain questions that hook onto the loose latches of my brain and send me to galaxies far away.
My favorite latching question is one that I don't get to ask frequently due to the lack of writers that I have within reach of contact.

"What was it that influenced you to start writing?"

When I asked a few friends on Facebook what is was that influenced them, I received some interesting answers. Emotional relief, changing the world through words, and even a certain song encouraging someone to make a change.

It's a question that I never got around to asking myself and now, years later, I realize that a lot of the terrible and lonely things in life created something so beautiful.
I'll rewind back to the horrible nightmare that was third grade

In third grade I had a TERRIBLE teacher. When I say terrible, I mean the sort of terrible that places a child behind moving bins in the back of the class because she can't comprehend math and is too afraid to ask for help. I've had my desk tipped in front of the class, my seat moved into the hall, and holiday parties taken away from me because of an inability to stand in front of the class and recite the multiplication table.

I'm gunna have to say, the similarity of this cartoon character and my teacher is remarkable.

In third grade there is nowhere to run from a teacher in a school filled with people who know you, your entire family, and where you sleep at night.
Everyone knew me as the girl who just couldn't learn. When the other kids would talk to me they would speak much slower as if I was the scared foreign kid in class.
Of course, they were wrong. I might not have known my numbers but I damn well knew my words. I was brought up by older parents and a brother who would rather hang out with boys. The only person I had to talk to was myself. It's amazing because I agree with everything I have to say! A beautiful friendship!!

My mom had to DRAG me out of bed in the morning to get me ready to go to class.
The only joy I had throughout the day was when I would get to scribble in my note book or sit by my only friend at lunch (love you Lea♥).

Well, every year in December my high school has an event called "Santa's Workshop.", and during this day different classes would get called into the Health room and look through the isles of cheaply made toys and gadgets that the PTA moms would nudge you to buy.
I never went to these because I was terrified of asking my mom and dad for money. All of the cool kids got twenty dollars to splurge on plastic trinkets and I wanted to have that joy of bringing the toys back to class and have everyone wonder what I got!
 Money is a silent topic in my family. If it's given to you, take it and appreciate what you have. If you ask for it, you won't get it.
I asked and for the first time received! It was amazing. Ten dollars. I nearly cried.

What a terrible kid I was going and buying candy, a tablet, and a nice pen. It was all for myself and when I brought it back the kids weren't interested in what I had anyways. I can't exactly remember but I don't think I cared.

While they sat and played with their plastic poppers and toy cars I sat at my desk and began writing. I have no idea what it was that I wrote and why I wanted to write it down so badly but I did. I wrote and it felt so good. Often times I would look out the window and imagine a handsome silhouette boy grabbing my hand and showing me how to dance on the wires of the telephone poles. I've written so many stories about this boy that I wouldn't be surprised if that's what I was furiously writing about.

It was only after the teacher had taken away my notebook that I realized I had written nearly a half an hour after recess had ended.
"This is going in my drawer until later when I get ride of it." She placed my tablet in her drawer, slammed the compartment closed, and locked it in tight with the key. The kids laughed. It was always funny when the stupid girl got yelled out for doing a stupid thing. How could someone not notice the teacher was talking!? Silly girl with her silly thoughts!

I didn't have the courage to ask her until the hourly break if I would get it back at the end of the day, like usual.
"No! It's going in the garbage this time along with the rubber bands. Didn't you hear what I said earlier?" What she meant by "the rubber bands" was my feeble attempt at making a giant rubber band ball in my desk. I got pretty far if I do say so myself.
"Not even with my parents permission?"
Oh, how she yelled at me when I asked that,
She took away my writing and yelled at me in front of a group of peers that already thought I was denser than a fire hydrant. I hated her. I hated her so much. I was afraid of her. I was terrified.

When my mom got the letter that I was repeating the year, that I had failed, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried for hours. I cried until my face turned red and the snot drained out of my nose. I cried and pleaded to God to make the school think I was smart. I told him I was too afraid to tell the teachers myself and asked him to do it for me. I told him I'd make the honor roll and make my parents proud. I asked him for a second chance. I begged him. I'm an alter server, I put money in the basket, I sing in the choirs, I'm a good girl. Please don't make me a failure. I never wanted to be like this, I just wanted to be average.
My grandparents would be so ashamed, my friends would go on without me, and I would never be the smart person my brother was.

I went on to repeat the year, my mom demanding a different teacher. I was blessed with a new, amazingly understanding teacher.
The school assumed that my math grades would reflect my reading and writing regardless of my advanced scores so I was placed in remedial reading for nearly the remainder of my elementary career. I wasn't removed from the day and night tutoring until my sixth grade teacher read a report I had written and sent it to the guidance councilor.

Soon, I found myself sitting in the guidance councilors office with her gave me mountains of mints to stay preoccupied while she finished her calls. When she finished she looked down at me and smiled. I thought I was in trouble.
 There was no way the kid would have ratted on me because of the caterpillar incident so quickly, right?

"You know you are very gifted, Amber."
"Thank you."
"Do you know what for?"
"No."
She lifted up the essay along with the drawing I had finished in class only the day before.
"I would have never guessed this was your writing. Amber, honey, you're at the reading and writing level of a highschooler."

I was dismissed. I swear when I walked back to class it felt as if every cloud in the sky was stapled to the bottom of my terribly ugly light up shoes.

I went through thirteen years in that school district and out of those 52 quarters (minus the strikes) I never made honor roll. I didn't graduate with that golden sash and my name wasn't announced with an amazing list of scholarships and awards on the graduation stage like I promised my late grandma Allegrucci.
I'm sorry you couldn't see me in college, grandma. I wanted you to see me do well.

But, no matter what grade is slapped on a project or what letter is written on an essay I know I have my writing. I have these dreams that I can interpret through my finger tips. It's truly some sort of magic. If that doesn't make me feel even the least bit smart then I might as well be the biggest idiot in the world!

A Story About Autism

-Taste the Music-

People are afraid of the dark because when the lights are out there are so many things that can’t be seen. Rod Sterling once said, “There is nothing in the dark that we cannot see when the lights are on”. I was never afraid of the dark but I am afraid of things I can’t see. All of these things that I can’t understand or interpreter. Those are the scary things and in a world with so many different people and so many different ideas there is so much that I can’t see. I’m blind. I’m so blind.

            I have a brother named Dustin who has these terribly big blue eyes that are always fixed on something that I cannot see. He reaches his hands up and touches things that are nonexistent to my world. Perhaps it’s some sort of light that warms him, or a kite that is flying just above his head. I could only imagine all sorts of floating things that could distract him from the ground.

            The thing I love about Dustin is that he doesn't see people for their physical form. I've seen little white babies shriek at their first encounter with a black person and vice versa. I don’t know where it comes from or why it’s there but we fear the different. Dustin doesn't. He’s not a part of the “we”. He’s not a part of the “us”.  He is Dustin and he lives for Dustin where as I am the big brother who lives for everyone else. I am the business man of society, everyone else is a consumer, and Dustin… he’s Dustin.

            I wish I could find more words to describe him but he’s not really a child of literacy. When I watch him sometimes I think I could write for a hundred lifetimes about who is and what he does but when I actually sit down with a piece of paper in front of me it becomes much more difficult. No word can capture the colors he sees and the worlds he touches. For now I’ll stick to my thoughts. Maybe one day I’ll collect enough of them and organize them on a sheet of paper but until then it will be internal.

            After our parents death I took Dustin in. At the time I was eighteen and he was only ten. Now I’m climbing towards my midtweeties and he’s in his teen years. He has so much rage that he doesn’t understand. These feelings are too human for him and he expresses it with this terrible rage. That’s why I think he does what he does. He does it because we are all built like little robots with different and unique systems. Dustin’s a bit short circuited, or perhaps we are the ones with the short circuits. The system isn't operating correctly. It can feel the commands. It can feel the need to complete something but the controls are different. The buttons are lost.

            He doesn't talk much and when he does most people can’t understand him. It’s easy to pick up his language but it’s hard to find someone who actually takes the time to.

            I’m sitting, at this very moment, at one end of our long dining room table and eating something that has taken me way too long to prepare based on the fact that we very well do have a personal chief.

            Dustin will only eat with music playing and every so often he will request a certain band to be played. Tonight’s request is the entire BeeGee’s best hits album.

            “Dustin.” I say. He doesn't respond.

            “Dustin, why is your mouth open?” He opens his mouth even wider and closes his eyes.

            “Taste the music. Louder. Louder.”  He responds. I stand up from my seat and turn the volume up as loud as it can go. The entire house is erupting in eighties music. The silverware is bouncing on the table, the floorboards feel as though they are being vibrated out of place, and Dustin is sitting in the midst of it all just tasting the music. I wonder what it tastes like. The music.

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This is an exert from a fictional story written by Amber Allegrucci. 2015 

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If you or anyone you know is affected by Autism send this their way.
""Autism isn't a processing error. It's a different operating system."