Post by VIVIAN LEVIA DANIELS on Dec 8, 2010 15:34:37 GMT -5
VIVIAN LEVIA DANIELS
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BABY V, SEVENTEEN , COLUMBIA STUDENT, BOGIE
Static flashes across the screen before it clears up
The red light was flashing. Did that mean it was recording? Taking a seat and making herself comfortable in the most uncomfortable way across from the video camera, the thin female's eyes were fixed on her hands, nails neat and painted a shimmering navy blue that matched the outline of her irises. The room felt stuffy, probably because it was, and it all felt wrong...doing it here of all places. But this was Columbia. This was what her parents wanted from her. They wanted her to have a better life than they ever could have had for themselves. So she sat there and thought over the requirements, the key points. She could always edit this part out, right? So she took her time, looking about the closet sized room. She was in her grandfather's office in Georgia, the millions of books on religion covering each and ever expanse of the shelves. This was the place her father had always told her, no, forbid her to go to: Ailey, Georgia; the tiny religious community where everyone knew everyone and where he and her mother grew up bitter sweetly. Her mother used to tell her it was a dead end place where you simply couldn't amount to anything.
"Vivian Levia Daniels, age seventeen, applying to Columbia University to major in Chemistry and Forensics science, to minor in Criminal Justice," despite not growing up in the south, the accent was still strong as if she had, mirroring the one her parents harbored, "I was born in Hollywood, California, attended Cornwall Academy of the Sciences in London, graduated with high honors, and am currently residing in Ailey, Georgia," she swallowed back the nerves that settled into her stomach. She took a pill to get rid of that so she was sure it would kick in soon, "My mother is Minnie Daniels and my father is Levi Daniels. She is a waitress and he is a gas station attendant. I did not grow up privileged monetarily but in every other aspect..." she paused, tearing her eyes away from the camera and over at the door where her older brother was sitting on the other side, keeping watch until she finished.
"That isn't what you want to here, though. You can read my record and impeccable application and figure that out for yourself. There's proof on every inch of those papers that I am hardworking, ambitious, and dedicated to bettering myself and my family. I was the first to attend school abroad on a scholarship and will be the first to be attending an Ivy League University. Again, you can figure that out by reading," she kept her eyes steady on the camera lens and blew a strand of dark blond hair out of her face, "My mother was twenty two when I was born. She had given up her addictions enough to keep me alive, or at least that is what everyone always tells me. After my birth, she fell into postpartum depression and she hasn't come out of it yet. Seventeen years and she still hates me more than the air she breathes. Actually, she dislikes all of us; my older brother and my older sister. The only one who seems to be able to control her is my father and I figured they'd been through this before. With their history, they must have.
I was twelve when my mother grabbed a kitchen knife and slit her wrists in front of me while my father was at work and my siblings were out. She had told me not to call the police so I didn't. I put pressure on her wrists and waited for someone to come home. She didn't die. To this day I wish she did.
That same year, I was accepted into an academy overseas. We didn't have the money for me to go so I was my usual mute self and applied to every single scholarship program I could find. I did months of community service, worked odd jobs, and eventually, my grandfather I never met, the one my father forbid me to see, paid for my schooling. I never asked why but I think he understood I wasn't...normal. When I met him for the first time, he told me I was like my grandmother on my mother's side. I was quiet, I kept to myself, and I simply put up with what everyone tossed in my direction. When I came home for vacations, I came here to Ailey. It wasn't a horrible place. It was a sanctuary from the superficial lifestyle of Hollywood. It was where my parents fell in love. It was where I was hoping to somehow find someone so perfect for me like my father was and always will be for my mother. Someone to call my own. I still come back here, year after year, searching for it and I always go back empty handed.
I love my mother. I love my father. I love my older sister and older brother. I love the grandfather I had only recently met and had lost so quickly who left me his house and everything in it; leaving behind the aching and tainted memories of a life of a sinful, scorned pastor branded with the scarlet letter and of a son so tortured and dangerously in love. I live here now, in Georgia. I haven't seen my parents or my older siblings since I left for London and it was just today that I saw my brother because he came to represent us at the funeral of our grandfather. The reason I tell you this story, the one that has to do with a girl who usually has absolutely nothing to say, the one about someone addicted to cigarettes and tranquilizers, the one about a girl who simply isn't normal is because attending Columbia University isn't just about becoming someone who can gloat and act all high and mighty. Attending Columbia isn't about achieving that dream of becoming wealthy and successful. It is about becoming a better person...
And discovering myself along the way."
Static flashes across the screen.
