A Beautiful View with No Meaning

Author: Cassandra Montani

A Beautiful View with No Meaning

Life is full of amazing views, yet it’s up to us to

put them to use. It’s up to us to recognize and

embrace their essence of true beauty.

I live on Imperial. I’ve lived on Imperial for

about six years. I am on the top of the highest hill

in El Segundo. I live in an apartment, not a house

and not a home, an apartment. This apartment is

in one of the nicest cities. On the top of that hill is

where I live. The beautiful view of the ocean and

its horizon is seen every single day.

The view of the beach is as spectacular as the

harbor of California Adventure with the Screamin’

California rollercoaster.

However, my rollercoaster is never ending.

It only stops when it is truly necessary. I

have lived here for so long; yet have not

gotten any meaning from anything I have

seen. It is all like a blank stare as if it were

space. The same rollercoaster reiterating

itself waiting for me to understand its true

purpose.

Everyday I wake up to the same view

not knowing its true colors. I can feel that

this simplistic lifestyle will come to an end.

I will be apart of the world whether I am

being joined or alone on this journey. There

is the beautiful view with no meaning.

Someday I will discover it.

HandsThe hands of my family differ

greatly. My fathers are rough around

the majority of the hand. However,

at the very center is that soft spot

that can be quite sensitive at times.

My oldest younger brother is named

Jorge just like my dad. His hands are

quite unique to him. The way they

get dirty in the most awkward area.

Although they can be filthy they are

always very soft. His hands have the

funny shapes and curvy lines going

through them.

Matthew is my youngest baby

brother. His hands are always soft.

They are so small and have not

experienced or touched as many

things as teenage or adult hands.

My mothers hand are ethereal with

every move she makes. My mothers

hands are quite soft and barely

rough around the edges. When time

is taken to comfort my hands they

are soft but when put through

actions they become rough.

Training Wheels are OffRiding a bike is simple the problem is when the

training wheels come off. Children are in love with

that moment that their parent takes them in and

escorts them on their first day of school. Every

child probably has that until they start maturing. I

loved this feeling of showing others kids that my

parents cared enough to walk me into school.

However, it was not all about them. The major

reason for doing that was to protect us. My parents

started doing this on my first day of school. I was

heading off to the big dogs, to pre- school. I

had my parents walk me into school, until the sixth

grade. Once I was in seventh and above I started

to mature and even get a little embarrassed of my

parents with me.

Maturing was good at some points; however, it did have

its dropping areas. I did not have my parents with me no

longer. Once I got into high school, it was a whole new

kind of ocean. There were no parent excuses or late

homework assignments because of parent notes. All of

that slack was gone. Now it was time to get down to

business. I didn’t know that high school would be this

hard. Once I was in high school it was a big BOOM! The

training wheels came off and all you could do was go

forward and not look back. Not look back one bit,

because if u did you would go flying off that bike of

yours. All you could say was Keep Moving Forward. Keep

Moving Forward. Keep Moving Forward.

My Name

My name is a way of showing my mother and

father as one through me. It describes me, that is

why whoever knows me, knows my personality.

Friends create their version of my name. The version

is me no matter what it is. For example most of my

friends call me Cass, Cassie, Cassy, but when it

comes to my mom she is the one who calls me

mamas. Soothing me with the voice of soft waves

slowly floating across the shore little by little. The

way something as simple as a name can mean so

many things is strange, in a good way.

 

My name is of Greek origin. In English it means “one

who shines upon man.” I am proud of my name. I am

proud to tell others yes that is I. Cassandra Dominique

Montani. In any language it flows. It’s a matter of how it

is said. My name is confident and strong just like my

mother. Dominique was her middle name and now it has

been passed on to me. My last name, Montani, is my

father. It is my family; the diversity shown through just

seven meaningless letters but when they come together

unity is shown among us.

The Hispanic portion of me is from my father whereas

my white part of me is from my mother. Two completely

opposite worlds, or cultures came together and made me

who I am today. My name defines me. It is a way of

finding my true identity.

Therapeutic Sessions

I do not understand. I do not understand. I do not understand.

Therapy is great especially when life can be a rollercoaster;

accumulating many many problems. So much focus is needed to follow

through with all the actions. Without focus, every idea or concentration

is puzzled. It has no purpose if there is no focus behind it. If there is no

focus within my session every idea, aspect, and action will be out of

bounds or shanked. A ready position is needed for each and every goal

whether short term or long term. If that goal is very important than

there is reason behind it in order to fulfill it. It is the base of each

concept and understanding for life. Therapy clarifies your identity and

life crisis’. It is a way to calm yourself and rethink strategies for life and

the many problems that come with it. A therapist will always be that

word of wisdom… or a coach.

Not So Much Fun

The awkward moments between a decision of good and bad. The kinds of friends you

hang around can really rub off on you. I could become in a way just like my friends.

Depending on who I hang out with would depict the kind of mannerisms and habits that I

would have or develop.

I was waiting for my friends. They never came. They were not going to come. They came.

They came later than they said. They dragged me along with them. They dragged me along

to do bad things in the bathroom. All the stuff smelled weird in the plastic bags. There was

nothing cool about brownies anymore. I thought brownies were supposed to taste good.

These did not at all. I knew it was wrong. I left. I walked home all alone at night. The next day

I was the one healthy and not in trouble. They were the ones unhealthy, sick, and getting in

trouble by every adult. Everything from what they said looked like a carousel spinning around

and round. Watching all of the rides as each loop and turn of the nearest rollercoaster went

on and on. The stuff they said was fun, was not so much fun for me. I felt more mature than

those whose age was older. But then again age is just a number. 

Teenage Talk

Teenage is a foreign language especially to children and adults. LOL. BRB. TTYL. WTF! And OMG mom

you are so unfair! All of these words and phrases are teenage talk. No one really understands it, the teens

themselves barely understand it amongst each other. But freedom right about now is the major injustice

among parents and their teenage children. They always talk back when; parents are correcting them or

speaking to them. ATTITUDE is among one of the key words when describing teenage girls, even boys.

Girls express it much more than the boys do because of our maturing. Whereas boys are like wine they

take forever to mature. Teenagers feel that freedom this early is well deserved. I even feel like that. I do

not understand why parents are so protective and doubtful with their children. My parents should trust me

and trust themselves that they raised me well enough to know right from wrong. They should expect me to

follow through in making the right decision no matter how difficult it may seem. Changing a social status is

never as life risking as it seems, because teens always grow up into adult and escape into the real world

amongst others. Teenage talk may be okay right now, but will be matured out of sooner than later.  

Invisible Ink

Sometimes I wish certain things could be

invisible. I would be able to dictate what can

be seen and what could not be seen. Imagine,

an author creating and in the process of

writing a story and in each section of the book

there are secretly hidden things that would

make the actual story that much better.

However, all of these secrets were written in

invisible ink. The actual thing you did not

know would make you actually enjoy the story

in a whole new perspective. Some things

about growing up may change the way you

see yourself and the way you see others. The

major difference is the way that people see

you. Teenage years are where everything is

unbalanced. Right about now nothing in my

body is balanced, physically or mentally.

Sometimes your judgment can be shaky

too. Mood swings are not the best. They are

not like actual swings where you feel free and

almost ready to fly. In fact, it almost feels the

exact opposite. It feels as if you are being

held captive and ready to be released from

your cage. Being invisible on cue would be

great. I would be able to hide the part of

myself that demonstrate much diffidence.

But there would also be times when I would

not want to be invisible. Being able to differ

between each and every single moment

would be a power with a price. Sometimes I

wish certain things could be invisible.  

The On-going Rollercoaster Has Come To A Stop My apartment has been on top of a

hill with me for six years. With that

Disneyland like view not knowing what

the significance of the rollercoaster

Screamin’ California. All of the many

loops and twists and turns and drops. Al

of the problems were being depicted. I

was not learning from each mistake. I

never actually knew if my rollercoaster

would ever come to a stop. Although

there were many loops, twists, and turns

they were all apart of the adventurous

ride. The journey every single time that

it restarts is the same journey, yet

something new is discovered every time.

It is all upon the rider to identify the new ideas and

aspects of this ongoing journey. I know what the

lonely apartment on the hill meant now. Although it

was lonely there were many people within it. The

view was a great one. It embarked my journey into

the real world that was waiting for me. The voyage

was going to be a great one. The rollercoaster has

always reiterated itself. I never knew or understood

why it did not stop. But now I do. I have learned

from each and every mistake. Because it is my

rollercoaster. It is my rollercoaster. But my

rollercoaster has come to a stop and is ready to

pick me up. Ready to begin a new expedition.

“Great creative piece of literature. The rollercoaster motif was beautifully used”

-Alexandra Wyatt9th grade English 9 Honors

“A unique style of writing using many real life experiences

within each and almost every metaphor.”

- Catherine Meneses 9th grade English 9 Honors

Cassandra MontaniAge: 14 ½Date published: January 24, 2012