Tuesday, November 15, 2011


It dawned on me as I stood by the seashore, waves licking the white sand, my problems and high school drama are miles away. No one could call me or text me to bother me about it. I felt a sense of serenity. More peace and tranquility washed over me as if the ocean itself was the solution to any stress I ever had. At first the idea of being on an island made me slightly claustrophobic, but now it feels more relinquishing than when I was in the mountains with miles to go in any direction. As if the mountains were more restricting than the vast ocean. The sun set stirred something in me, like I could finally breathe, I felt even older than I already feel. Really I've always felt older than I really am. Like I've lived several times before and that this really isn't my first rodeo, even if it appears that way.  I feel older than the high school drama and older than the petty issues that seem to be earth shattering to most 18 year olds. And it's not just because I can drink here haha. Now I need to find this aura within myself. I don't want to be dependent on the world around me. Just like my sense of confidence, I need to find my happiness from within and from God rather than be dependent on man's opinion or approval.

The heat of the island grills me and I openly accept the heat, hoping to trap some of it in my skin as if I could bring it back home with me. That way even when it's below freezing I could still be warm with the island's humid heat rolling in my pores. I wish I could just swallow the air and let it reside in me. I wish I could contain this beautiful atmosphere within my body, as if I could house it like I house the Holy Spirit. Today I got to experience another one of God's miracles in action. I went to a place called Stingray City. Basically I went to a sandbank that was waist deep and got to pet and feed stingrays. The way they caressed my legs with their fins (do you call them fins?) was magical they were ridiculously soft. Softer than a baby. Maybe if you slathered a baby with lotion and didn't rub the lotion all the way in, thats how it felt. They were all girls, and beautiful girls they were. I pet them and held them, I wanted to keep it. It was adorable. They are the most empathetic hypersensitive creatures ever. If you were super nervous they felt it, and reflect it, if you were loving and ready to just hold and pet and love on them, they were exactly the same way. At one point I was holding one, another was behind me rubbing up on me and there was another at my feet rubbing up on me. They were so soft but strong. At one point I found myself saying to them "Whoa girls you're gonna knock me over". Really what I could compare them to are ballerinas. So beautifully elegant and beautiful and they practically danced from person to person, but they were strong! You had to have a good footing because if they decided they liked you they aren't going to just brush up on you they are going to lay on you. When I fed them it was so crazy. It must have been where the inspiration for a vacuum came from. They sucked the squid out of my hand with no hesitance. I had a good grip on the squid too. I was holding it like an ice cream cone but with a firm grip so that the ocean didn't wash it out of my hand. Oh I loved them though. I want one for a pet! If I lived here I would want to be a tour guid if I could, or just go to it every single weekend. Of course that's in my hypothetical world where I am obviously rich. These things are so beautiful though. Their eyes were way more apparent than I ever thought, the anatomy of it was ten times more fascinating than any picture could ever express. They were so simple yet intricate and I wish I could have kept it. God is so good! He makes such beautiful creatures! It just blows my mind.

Thanks for reading :)

Monday, November 14, 2011

Grand Cayman

I do not understand how it can be soooo freezing at home and then so warm here at the same time. Well I am in Grand Cayman after all. Let me just rant about how much life sucks.

This morning I woke up just before 10 in a bed full of feather pillows. Then I immediately got my swimsuit on and a little sun dress over it so my mom and I could walk down to go kayaking. The hotel is so intensely air conditioned for some reason I got it in my head that it must be chilly outside, even though when we were outside the night before it was as warm as a summer day in CO. We opened the doors to outside and we were rushed with a wave of moist heat. Crazy! The sky is amazingly blue and the sun was so bright I walked with my eyes mostly closed for majority of the way to the stand to get the kayaks. My mom and I reached the white pure sand and removed our sandals. Stepping into the sand was like a mini bit of heaven engulfing our feet. The sand wasn't all too hot, just warm, and it was clean. Okay I know you're thinking "meghann, sand is not clean, what are you on....can I have some?" NO! I'M NOT ON ANYTHING! The sand was just sand, not rocks, not sticks, not seaweed, SAND! It was soft, walking was practically a moving foot massage. Behind the stand for the water sports, were these two hot beach ritz boys. You know, the blonde tan ones that they save for remakes of Baywatch. He had us sign and write our room number and basically handed us the kayak and lifejackets and told us to not go past the buoys. Mom and I paddled out into the clear multi colored water. The white sand was still visible through the turquoise and light blue waters. We maneuvered the kayak like dorks, turning in a gazillion different ways, usually not the way we wanted to go, we even accidentally hit someone else's kayak. Where are the breaks on those things anyways? As my mom and I enjoyed the scenery her hat flew off. She immediately jumped out of the kayak and swam towards it. After she retrieved it I had to paddle over to her so she could hop back in. But I think subconsciously she wasn't done being in the water because just as soon as she was back in the boat she fell back out on the other side. I can't blame her really I wanted to hop in the water too, just thought I would wait till we returned the kayak and then go into the swimming area, but she just couldn't wait. :) We headed back to shore and gave the boat back. The water is bathtub water warm. We literally just stood in the ocean, it was so nice. She and I are so much more used to the freezing water of california that if you want to go in you have to take trips in and out, 2 minuets in 10 minuets out 1 minuets in 20 minuets out. Unless you had a wet suit, but get real who wears a wet suit unless you're going surfing. Here if I wanted to go surfing on the nonexistent waves I could practically do it naked and still be comfortable. After that we went over to the pool and lounged on some sun beds. I felt like a cat, soaking up all the sun. I was so blissfully warm you could have probably successfully fried and egg on my back. I even got some color, and not red! The mexican part of my cultural makeup kicked in and I'm semi tan... granted I'm tan compared to my usual skin, not compared to other people, that's just not fair. We lounged there for a bit and I will probably go back down.

Obviously my life sucks.

Really when I look at this I can't help but just be praying over and over Thank You God! It's so beautiful. God continuously takes my breath away with his creations. Seriously it's pure art. God is the ultimate sculptor and the ultimate painter. The sky, the ocean, everything. The people. I think the dark dark skin is so beautiful, it's like they are melty dark dark chocolate, creamy and smooth and full. I think I need to start drawing darker people. A whole other form of inspiration. Praise God for this beautiful chance I have to experience this beautiful place that He made.

P.S. It's pirate week in Cayman, so if you're randomly here too and see a pirate running around, thats why.

Thanks for reading.

Friday, November 11, 2011


This too shall pass,
One must endure,
Contractions and birth pains,
To birth a new life.
A new creation.
But this too shall pass,

Nothing is changeless,
Apart from God.
Yet residing in duration,
Alters one's faith,
In promise of change,
But this too shall pass.

No sensation survives.
Just keep pushing,
The promise abides,
New life resides,

So cut the umbilical cord,
Allow this new life to flourish,
You will forget the pain,
And endure again.

We will never be given,
Anything that we can't handle,
So have faith,
You are God's creation.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

I'm Sorry

Eyes lock,
There is no fear,
Only empathy,
There is no sneer,
Only gazing helplessly.

You may think I loathe you,
You may think I despise you,
I merely wish I could explain,
I desire no harm,
Or sorrow nor pain.

I pray for a healing,
A new transition,
A fresh life.
Replaying a nonexistent conversation,
Repeatedly in mind.

I want to shelter you,
With wings of an eagle.
Protect you from stormy winds,
Prevent a deathly frost.

But that isn't my obligation,
My responsibility.
No matter how willing I may be,
It's not healthy for you or me,

But look and see,
I still care for thee.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Critique Addict Anonymous

I have an issue.
I have an addiction.
I can't get enough of peer edit or critique in general. I love critique in dance, fencing, ANYTHING! Correct me because I know I'm wrong in one way or another! Not even wrong, just not the best. I could be better, just tell me how. Today in English class we were doing peer Workshops. Basically, we all get copies of people's poems and then we annotate them. Correct them. Make suggestions. And then so we don't feel like failures we give them reinforcement and comment on what we loved about the poem. I would love to do this for  EVERY one of my poems or essays. I love it. I can see students walking into the conference room with looks of dread, slugging their way forward, dragging their feet, rolling their eyes. But not me, I practically dance into the conference room ready for my writing to be torn apart and put back together. However I like it when they challenge the ideas in the poems, and the rhetoric and the figurative language the poem harbors. I love having my mind stretched in more ways than I initially believed it could! I love it when a teacher looks at my writing and tells me where I could improve. And guess what?! IT'S NEVER ENDING! THERE'S ALWAYS MORE! Same with dance, when I was on the school dance team we would dance the dance in groups so the rest of us could watch and then correct each other, basically playing the role of our mirror only they talk back and point out what we messed up or what we could be sharper with or where we could improve period. I wanted people to find the details to critique on. Tell me that my foot needs to me a little more to the left, or that I needed to get lower on the hip hop or that I need to put my arms straighter up so it looked like a touch down not a high V. All of it! I eat it up! What will I ever do? I am admitting my issue, I'm stating the fact that I want to become better, because there is always better. I want to grow, not stay stuck. Now tell me where did I mess up? ;) Thank you

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Who Are You

" Tell us about who you are. What are your goals. How would you contribute to the school's community. Tell us about you"

About me?! What about me? There is no way I could just spew out my whole entirety in 500 words or less. How do you fit yourself onto a piece of paper? What part of me is relevant to an art college application? I could go the classic way of just saying "oh I love art and my goals are to be a studio artist and then sell as many paintings as I can." Except for that's not what I want. In all honesty I don't know what I want beyond the next four years. Really college, in my eyes, is a place to learn about what you actually want to learn about, not just another obligation the government forces upon you. Its a time for you to explore what truly interests you. What interests me? I just want to play. Is that allowed? Just to play? I want to experiment and see where this passion could take me. Where can this passion take me? I have no idea! I figure I'll just take opportunities as they come. I love to experiment with texture and layering acrylic paint to see the different patterns I can create. I like to make paper merge together in ways I didn't expect them to. I like to destroy books and make them into something beautiful. I like to create for the sake of creating. Painting and making altered books or collages is just a pure part of my being, it's practically my way of breathing. I have this over powering inner voice that is spewing out, in multiple different ways, whether its painting or writing or photography or via video or dance, I'm birthing this crazy creativity and I don't know what to do with it other than try and expand it. Lately I've been fascinated with pregnant women. Not because I want to physically be pregnant. Rather I feel like I'm metaphorically pregnant. Pregnant with new change and pregnant with a new life. A life of creativity and a life of expression. A life of allowing every emotion and thought spew out in a healthy beautiful way instead of bottling it up and waiting it to explode like a Mentos in a bottle of Coke; then I end up with a mess that's sticky and nearly impossible to clean up. I don't want to be another mess the world tries to clean up, I want to be an effective being in the community of the world. I want to be an effective follower of Christ as well. I don't want to just eat myself away in isolation and waste a gift that God bequeathed me. Truly I don't know how I will effect any campus I set foot on, for the longest time my mantra was " I don't plan on being the center of attention, but I won't be forgotten." Maybe that will be applicable to whatever campus I set foot on. Hopefully I touch and reach out to other people. Hopefully I'll be apart of someone's muse just as I know the other students and staff  will merge with my many muses. I merely want to explore a community of art and explore new techniques to expand my voice. I want to discover teachers who are passionate about what they do and are passionate about the students and their work. I love to manipulate materials so they will tell a story. What's my story? My story consists of heartache and confusion and pain, but also of the joy of coming to Christ and of love and of deep friendships and a beautiful family. My story is chock full of trials and coming out of those trials more empowered and more powerful and stronger in Christ. My story has a father that abandoned his little girl intertwined in it, and my over coming that. My story is dense with a close relationship with my mom and having ridiculously loving and life changing friends. But most of all my story is laced with art. I have never been so passionate about art as I am now. Art has always been a part of me, but I never thought I could ever actually make something of it. Who knew there was a college for people who loved what I love and I don't have to just go to High School Part 2. Who knew that there is a community of young people out there craving the very same thing I crave. The only thing I can do now is take whatever chance I have to being involved in that, and apply for as many schools and scholarships I can. I'm impregnated with, and birthing, a life worth living. 

Monday, November 7, 2011

How I Live

How I Breathe
By: Meghann Gutierrez

This I believe,
            My life is my breath,
I breathe in the present,
For the present is all I have,
            It’s all I have.
The past is merely a memory,
The future—a dream.
An illusion.
But the present is alive!
Flowing through my body,
Like the oxygen I breathe.
            Breathe in the present.
Smell it’s incents, and—
Before I know it… I’m exhaling,
Moving on to the next breath.

So make that breath last!
Take it in fully!
It’s movement!
It’s life!
Make that breath last.
For how I breathe,
Is how I live.
Don’t hold your breath,
For the dream,
Or the memory!
And I won’t hold mine.
Be alive with me,
For this I believe,
            Our breath is our life. 

This poem was inspired by:

Sunday, November 6, 2011

The Reminder

What do I induce in people? What message is imprinted on their heart? More times then not I catch a defect in my motives, I discover myself yearning for approval of man aloft the endorsement of God. I'm craving to reverberate God's heart, despite my fleshly heart impaling through, insinuating it's better than God's heart. Flipping their hair over their shoulder several will say, "well then don't allow that to happen". I wish it was as easily done as said. It's a continuous struggle. Time after time, I have found myself convicted of loving another person more than I love God. I find myself infatuated with a person and completely at awe; but wait if this person is that great, then how much greater God must be. I'm not saying one shouldn't love people, that's the exact opposite of what we should do. As Christians we are called to love people with the heart wrenching, breath stealing, knee weakening love; as God would love them. As people, we are spiritual beings, not mindless creatures ran by instincts. Who/what really claims my heart? Does my treasure reside in my fleshly desires? Or is it embedded with God's heart? Constantly our pastor will remind us to not just go through the motions of being a Christian, but to truly live it out. In dance sometimes instead of doing the dance full out( as in, dancing as if we were performing at competition right then and there) we just mark it, for a break but we claim that it's really okay because we're thinking about it. Don't do that! Don't mark through life. Don't just think about life, live it! Do it! Dance through life as if you're dancing for God right then in there, even if you don't see Him. Because unlike in dance where the audiance is only watching during the two minuets we are on stage, God is watching and experiencing life with us day by day, moment by moment, breath by breath, move by move. When I was on dance team there was always one girl who would ask before ever dance we did, "Wait is this full out?" Why not just do it full out every time, and if it really was just a time to mark it, well you got to live fully for that much longer and that much more.  We will never get another chance to glorify and honor God in this way ever again, once we are in Heaven it's a whole different dance. Don't take for granted each moment that we are gifted, because each moment has it's value just as each verse in the Bible has it's value. Love with God's heart, not your fleshly heart which only craves rewards from it's "good doings". Love without expectations and love without keeping score or debt. Love should be free, not something that someone has to do this this and that to earn. I want my soul to leave love embedded on people's stories. I want to be the one of many who makes someone's day, or that makes someone feel better. I want to be a woman of God, because He is the only everlasting thing. Everything else perishes and spoils. If I latch onto money, or sex, or food, or things of this earth in general, rather than latch onto God, I will perish just as those things will and will live a life of misery. I don't type this to convict others or be one to condemn others, that's not my goal or wish or desire. I write this mostly as a reminder, a documentation for myself, so when I look back I can see my initial wish, and stay on track. Hopefully this is some form of inspiration to you guys as well, if you all think I'm a loon without a life sitting behind my computer with out a clue, then think that. That's not the impression I wanted to make but everyone has their opinion. Know my heart isn't in this looking for praise or looking for rewards, my heart is in this humbly and genuinely trying to share this beautiful message I gathered today. Our pastor reminds us to give whatever we have, whether it's talents or money or just a smile, abundantly. We are called to join in this beautiful giving, because God gave us the most beautiful gift of all, Jesus. And thank God that He demonstrated this beautiful love, so now we can exude the same sweet love. Thanks for reading this, have a great rest of the day :)

Saturday, November 5, 2011

Love Poems

This New Canvas
By: Meghann Gutierrez
My hooves scrape the
Forest floor, creeping my way forward,
Air gliding over my immensely arched spine,
My ears twitching, bowed nose sniffing, searching for warning,
Skeptical of the cool dirt ground beneath my four,
White speckled, elegant legs.

I encounter this mystifying ground-
Should I cross?
Branded with patterned dashes.
Clip- clop, Clip- clop:
My hooves compose music on this modernistic
Black river of stone.
It feels steady. Even safe.
Abruptly the black air is lit,
My neck snaps to see where the
Source originates and it's--


Shinning brilliantly my eyes dilate absorbing you
Entranced by your beauty I cease on this sturdy asphalt neck stretched
Up with attentive ears captivated with your soft hum as you plummet towards me
The cool forest wind licking my fur I can be safely and vulnerably hypnotized
Your light shining brighter and brighter swelling inflating me and
My legs are locked but my heart bolts--

You tear, right,
Through me. Cripple me.
To the ground. I lay here.
Frigid air nibbling at my cracked bones.
Organs smeared.  
As if my-- blood.
Were paint worked
Into this asphalt.
For this... new canvas.
My heart now embedded-- on this highway.
Revealing, our anecdote.
For all. To. See...
My neck is twisted.
Toward the direction you fled.
To watch. You. Leave.--
Your light dwindling.

It dawns on me that I was never safe it was an illusion so I promise that
Next time I'll be sure to look both ways before I decide it's safe to step out onto the road...

So after Stephen broke up with me as luck would have it, the next assignment in my creative writing class was a love poem. My first reaction was "Really cus I feel like I just got hit by a car..." hey maybe I could go off of that, so I did. This is my version of a love poem. Then I showed it to my Video Production teacher and he pretty much told me that I could drop all the assignments that he gives me and just do a huge project on it if I wanted to, so I went home and started drawing up a story board, hopefully I will have it done before I have to turn in my applications for colleges because this would be super cool to have in my portfolio. Thanks for reading, tell me what you think. 


What you are about to read is a this I believe essay, it's not an essay in which to preach or teach others how to live. It's also not an essay in which you rant or you give the history of your religion. A This I Believe essay is about how you, only you, live daily, how you live, your mantra. This Is What I Believe.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale; my hand clenched the wooden pencil guiding it across the paper; I focused on the simple task of breathing—inhale, exhale. The confirmation “Something just changed, I’m sorry, we can’t be together,” still rang in my ears, mimicking an echo by bouncing off the walls of my skull. As I processed the words, my diaphragm seemed to collapse, crushing my lungs into oblivion.  I hunkered down on the corner of my bed, dressed and ready for an outing with friends, only-- I couldn’t; I was frozen. I was baffled, affixed in that moment, I didn’t budge. I just listened to the distortedly, broken, sobs cracking from my convulsing chest and bursting through my mouth. My mom rushed home from work once she received a text my step dad sent stating, “Meg is uncontrollably sobbing, and I don’t know what to do.” My mom reeled me out of that duration. She bequeathed me the advice of “All you can do is keep breathing.” I broke out the art supplies and drew lungs over and over, rechanneling my focus on the present and breathing.
                I believe my life is my breath. I’m determined to live as I breathe; full and deep. The present is alive, periodically adjoined with me, dancing alongside me throughout time. The present is my oxygen, I breathe it in—it stirs in me, gifts me animation and before I know it, I’ve absorbed everything I can muster; and it transforms into carbon dioxide, so I exhale, it emerges into the past, a memory. It’s so easy to focus on the break up with Stephen; the past. It’s so easy to focus on the future; deny myself the life I can live now and say “I’ll do it later.”  Say I scamper away from how I feel in a moment; that feeling will last longer, leaping moment to moment, robbing more power than it deserves.  The pure reason I keep enduring, is my oxygen. I believe it’s essential I live in the present or—I’ll never live authentically.
"Be here now, be somewhere else later. Is that so difficult?" (David Barder)  I bear no tangible grasp of time besides the present moment; not the clock, not the sun, not the rotation of the world; the present.  The past is merely a series of memories and thoughts, chronologically composed and bogged down in my mind. The future is an illusion, a dream, an idea that retains no promise or certainty.  The present is certain and inevitable.  How I live right now, is how I live my life. I can’t alter the past or predict the future, both are out of my dominance, but what I do right now is up to me. If I live each moment of my life with purpose, meaning and excitement; then I can only fathom that my life will be impregnated with purpose, and meaning, and excitement.  This, I believe, live in the present, and I’ll truly live.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Summer Travels To Senior Trek

Meghann WHY HAVEN'T YOU BEEN BLOGGING? In all honesty I don't have much of a reason besides the fact that life swept me away and had new adventures, new struggles and new people to experience. My summer was filled with classic romance, a summer job at a smoothie shop and being incognito. Most of my friends didn't know where I was. However there are worst ways to spend the summer, being in California. My life may have been hectic elsewhere but in Cali, the beautiful beach and independence treated me well. Yoga on the beach helped too. ;) 

Part of what made California so beautiful for me was the first love I had the chance to experience. I have to tell you, I have never been treated so well. I can't even explain how confused I was when this guy wanted to actually pay for me, and still did it even if I argued. I just learned to keep my mouth shut and say thank you. Our romance could have been in a movie, but one of those happy go lucky ones, walks on the beach, going on the warf, driving around Burbank, or wandering around Santa Barbara, it was sweet and simple. Even though it ended, I would never take it back, it taught me that there are guys out there who aren't self centered or who don't have several medical issues and there is someone who will open doors for me and take me out on real dates. 

Now I'm a senior back at the school that I thought I wouldn't make it back to. I'm with my friends and with my scene. My life is so hard, I mean I have to start the day by making songs in my Music Tech class, poor me I know, and then I have to go to a Psych class where the teacher is beyond funny and plays the best games to make a point, don't start crying yet it gets worse,  then I have to sit in a class with a funny english teacher who loves writing and I HAVE TO WRITE POEMS AND MEMOIRS!!! WHAT?!  I know so hard! Then I have to go to an art class where all I do is paint and draw, then I have to go to Video Production to make commercials about pocket ninjas and music videos, but wait heres the worst part, then I have to go to a Photography class and take pictures! My life is so miserable I don't know what to do with myself. I would much rather be in classes like AP Calculous and AP Biology and be working my butt off just to get a C in the class. And guess what, it's totally horrid, I have A's and B's in all my classes, my parents are going to kill me! 

As you can tell my life is miserable, so out of pity you should continue to read my blog because now I'm going to post a couple poems and a This I Believe essay I wrote all of which might make you want to claw your eyes out, I'm surprised my teachers haven't failed me and kicked me out of my classes yet. 

Thanks for reading!