Querencia Graphic

Hot Chocolate

When the winds of Hawaii come in from the north, a cup of hot chocolate warms your heart during the winter season. Clustering the ingredients together in a culinary harmony, we start with the milk. Pouring a deluge of the pasteurized liquid into the cup, it starts to brim, like a whirlpool. The soft, brown chocolate powder cascading down into a mound of cocoa, before starting to sink to the bottom of the glass. A silvery spoon to swirl the contents, the cocoa rises with a delicate scent. We then put it in the microwave for a lengthy amount of time. As the time reaches zero, the mixture expands greater heights of it's culinary aroma.

We pull out the now burning glass and hastily place it onto the counter. Almost like it was on fire. A few more minutes of waiting for the seconds to past, then eventually as a few minutes past. It's cooled down enough to drink and enjoy the taste of the sweet, light brown liquid. The small shiver that soon falls after the first drink, making us realize how cold  it seemed like before. The fragrance of the bittersweet liquid hitting our senses like a small wave. Especially the taste of the hot chocolate always makes it even better. The cocoa leaves our taste buds tingling and with a sugary tang. Making us wanting more, so we drink the warm liquid again. Which we are greeted with the same senses. The delicious taste always leaving the same sweet aroma. That's until we finish our cup. Which still leaves a small warmth and a small fragrance. This reminds us the magical expirence we just had with our hot chocolate and how we should go make more.



Done by: Clarissa and Chaysen

Querencia: Final Draft

    Schoolwork, writer's block, artist's block, family stresses: all the things that provoke my annoyance and willing to go away from this pain. The pains of school feel like distractions from what I like to do sometimes, especially projects I consider important. Family stresses are very easy to ignite, from a plain argument to getting grounded in 5 minutes flat. Writer's block and artist's block are purely annoying when I want to write or draw, but nothing comes to mind for a whole day. Sometimes, these things overwhelm me so much that I hardly want to do anything at all, which is bad when I'm told to do something. It seems that every day when I'm stuck in reality, I'm simply sad and alone. I barely feel anything nor doing anything at all.

    Whenever I feel like this, I always go back to the two places that I have found refuge to my strains: Fanfiction and DeviantART. They are two sites I have found and joined back in 2014, and I have never left them since.  I first found Fanficiton like any other kid on the Internet: browsing through random things. I was going over my Koopaling fandom at the time, and I saw a fanfiction about those very characters. Fully intrigued, I checked out the story, and that's when I entered the site of amateur authors' imaginations. The site page barely looks like much - mostly a chapter of a story, ads popping on the top and bottom, and a small review box beneath the chapter for members and visitors to place their critics. Without reading the chapter, you've practically skimmed through everything. But once you read it, you've seen it all, and only want to read the story to the end.

     By how I perceive FanFiction, it's the one oasis for authors seeking publishing opportunities to give a chance on what they can do. The one thing that put up my irritation was how people's first reactions to "fan fictions" being dirty, inappropriate themes based on sick and immature thoughts involving shipping only. My friends there and I are not any of those; we instead work as amateur authors seeking great results, helpful critics, and becoming successful at what we love to do. Writing has become one of my many passions I seek to have great results on. And as a writer does the words, the artist does the art.

     I have found DeviantART by my uncle when I was a lot younger. It intrigued me as a young child: bright colors, amusing patterns, and all types of interest that I could understand. There were pictures called deviations that came in more numbers within a person's gallery. Deviants there had their own bios describing who they are, journal entries displaying tags or fun quizzes, and status updates and tag lines sometimes used humorously. I wanted to have a DeviantART account and have my drawings there since, and I spent time practicing, which became more active as I grew older. I met more friends on the site, as well as some FanFiction author friends I chat with. The passion of art and the site revolve around me, and talking to my friends there help me feel safe, secure, and known. Activity was more frequent there than on FanFiction, so I spent more time talking to friends there.

    Apparently, the main reason to going both sites is to talk to my friends. They help me feel more noticed and secure, and even one reply can lift my spirits after a whole day of plain sadness and lonliness. I spark conversations with them for countless hours, and every moment we talk, I begin to feel happier and more like the me I have been but never see. I'm immediately lifted from all these pains, ignore what annoys me, and I talk. I can freely speak about my fandoms, interests, and games I enjoy because there's someone who I can relate to so much. Reality is a lot harder, as it's a blend of every interest. In all honesty, finding one person who likes the same video game, even a popular franchise, is like finding a tree in the desert - there's only so many yet so little.

     In reality, I have felt viewed as that random guy, the loner, someone gone unnoticed, someone hardly up to high talents. Stresses of life have gotten down to me, and it's been hard trying to meet my high expectations and find myself in the midst of everything. But when I come to DA and FF, I feel like I'm someone. There are people there I trust and talk to, and I'm not alone. I'm not judged to the point of who I am and why I am who I am, because I am not alone, and we help each other. I can freely be myself on both sites, and find people who have one or more things in common with me. I always go to those sites on my free time when I feel down, because once I talk to someone there...I'm happy.

Words from the Heart Graphic

Special Place

     Upon entering the mindscape of my special place, I find myself where no other place can imitate nor perfect to greater standards. I see in front of me a fountain with a statue of a tall woman with flowing pink hair, curls so thick and so compressed that it's hard to tell they are multiple strands of hair fused into one. She wears a white dress of many layers, and a star design cut out where her midriff is, a rose quartz gem planted there. At the bottom of dress, which obscures her feet, showed a silver plaque with the words "Rose Quartz" imprinted. She standing atop the marble structure, watery tears falling from her gentle eyes. The water flows to the fountain floor, brimming it with life. Four other smaller statues of Rose Quartz sit on four diagonal pedestals of the fountain. The fountain has for lowered pathways, where the water floods and dips into a circular moat, dug down to the ground till I see no floor. Fluffs of snow dab the grassy area, bringing a sense of spring and winter. Trees of evergreens and dogwoods pop up from the ground, daffodils and marigolds rising from their roots. Berry bushes of all kinds sprout here and there, dotted with fruit all over. The sky glows of the morning sun, and shades the ground of the stalking night. Puffy clouds dot the sky in shades of yellow, orange, pink, and red. The sun rises ever so slowly, the looming rays casting a soft, luminous shine on everything the light seems to touch. When I looked into the fountain water, I see my younger self: the innocent me, the curious me, the young me. A cliff stands beyond the snowy and grassy field,  blooming with dandelions. The sky there changed to a full night scenery, dark clouds so rare as they pass the atmosphere. When the wind blows the seeds of the soft plants, the same seeds collect in the sky, and burst with bright light, shining greater than a firework. When the light fades, a visual of a past memories reveals itself, reminding me of the times I had. That very memory soon fades as the dandelions float away, but yet to come again.