Author's Note: This is a reflection on my two years of middle school English class.
Over the past two years, in English at Asa, I have become a much better writer. When I came in I was writing only what was on the surface, if that. It has been a fun two years, full of academic growth, and finding myself as a writer, and a reader. The point of these middle school classes, is to grow, and find who you are, and the style in which you work.
I've found the times when I read and write my best, and when how I can put myself into a good place for writing. I've found who I am, and what I write like. I now know what I am capable of, as well as my limits. I now have an idea of where to push myself, and where I can't. I've developed a personality. It is now my voice, not just another paper written by another student.
Now that I'm me, I know where I stand on certain issues, and through my writing I understand that I can make myself heard. Now I don't just write simply because I'm told to, but I use it as a time of catharsis. In my writing, I'm not a kid. I'm a writer.
Because I'm a writer, I am viewed evenly with everybody else. It is refreshing. Now its even easier to write because I am writing about something I can relate to. Not Animal Farm, about a revolution in a country that I have never visited. I can finally write about whatever, and explain it clearly.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Public Enemy Number 1
Author's Note: This is response to The Truman Show. It is targeted at the idea that we must make our life real, and that feeling nothing is to be constantly feared.
It was a lonely day. They all are. I never have any choice. Every day it's all the same. Everything is already done and decided for me. Set from the beginning, and not changed, ever. I wish I could choose. I wish that there was chance, but there is only what you have done, what you are doing, and what is set that you will do. I needed change. I needed to feel something. Really feel something... Anything would suffice. It was that day, that I made myself an outlaw, and public enemy.
I woke up, did what I was supposed to, but I did it lethargically, so to slow the day, miss the bus, and change the set structure. Sure enough, it worked, I was supposed to go to school, but didn't. It felt... so different. It was an awakening, like nothing I had ever experienced before. It was a sense of pride. Not the false pride that schools bestow upon you with a title, but one of real pride. It was now my life and I could anything, so I went outside, and walked. Just walked, but I never stopped. I never slowed down. Now I knew I couldn't go back. I could never go back. After feeling this, after knowing... It just would make me a hollower shell than I already was.
I walked until I the city was no more, and it became the country, and then, I walked some more. I could begin to hear the panic. It was everywhere in the city. The government was flying in helicopters, and jet planes, but wouldn't say what was wrong, but the city had entered a state of lock down. I, of course, knew what was wrong. It was me, I had caused this. I just wanted to feel, but at the expense of my city. I still felt, but now, it was sorrow. I can't go back, because now the government would detain me, and kill me, or even worse... Make me work for them. Now everything that I felt was beginning to overwhelm me, but I still couldn't go back.
Now was my choice. Three options, each as painful as the next. I could kill myself and be totally free, I could go back and turn myself in, or I could bear the emotions and trek forward. Turning back would mean no misery for my friends, and fellow city dwellers, but I would then thrust myself into a life of misery. I could not bring myself to kill anything, even if it was me, so that left only one option.
I must go forward, and so I did. The minutes turned to hours, the hours to days, the days to weeks, and the weeks to months. The whole time I stayed in the wasteland. I would avoid any cities I found. My emotions had become dull again. That was until the third month. That was when I finally saw it. The ocean was before me. I could now do anything. If I made it out there, nobody could ever control me again.
I ran out, and swam. Swam as far and long as I could. My only motivation, was if I get out they don't own me. It was the life that I now possessed drove me to get a better one. One free of the tyranny here. I went, and kept swimming.
It was a lonely day. They all are. I never have any choice. Every day it's all the same. Everything is already done and decided for me. Set from the beginning, and not changed, ever. I wish I could choose. I wish that there was chance, but there is only what you have done, what you are doing, and what is set that you will do. I needed change. I needed to feel something. Really feel something... Anything would suffice. It was that day, that I made myself an outlaw, and public enemy.
I woke up, did what I was supposed to, but I did it lethargically, so to slow the day, miss the bus, and change the set structure. Sure enough, it worked, I was supposed to go to school, but didn't. It felt... so different. It was an awakening, like nothing I had ever experienced before. It was a sense of pride. Not the false pride that schools bestow upon you with a title, but one of real pride. It was now my life and I could anything, so I went outside, and walked. Just walked, but I never stopped. I never slowed down. Now I knew I couldn't go back. I could never go back. After feeling this, after knowing... It just would make me a hollower shell than I already was.
I walked until I the city was no more, and it became the country, and then, I walked some more. I could begin to hear the panic. It was everywhere in the city. The government was flying in helicopters, and jet planes, but wouldn't say what was wrong, but the city had entered a state of lock down. I, of course, knew what was wrong. It was me, I had caused this. I just wanted to feel, but at the expense of my city. I still felt, but now, it was sorrow. I can't go back, because now the government would detain me, and kill me, or even worse... Make me work for them. Now everything that I felt was beginning to overwhelm me, but I still couldn't go back.
Now was my choice. Three options, each as painful as the next. I could kill myself and be totally free, I could go back and turn myself in, or I could bear the emotions and trek forward. Turning back would mean no misery for my friends, and fellow city dwellers, but I would then thrust myself into a life of misery. I could not bring myself to kill anything, even if it was me, so that left only one option.
I must go forward, and so I did. The minutes turned to hours, the hours to days, the days to weeks, and the weeks to months. The whole time I stayed in the wasteland. I would avoid any cities I found. My emotions had become dull again. That was until the third month. That was when I finally saw it. The ocean was before me. I could now do anything. If I made it out there, nobody could ever control me again.
I ran out, and swam. Swam as far and long as I could. My only motivation, was if I get out they don't own me. It was the life that I now possessed drove me to get a better one. One free of the tyranny here. I went, and kept swimming.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Real Reality
Author's Note: This is a poetic response to The Truman Show. It was targeted at the idea that what's real isn't really real.
The sky,
So blue, so soft, so,
Perfect
The grass
So green, so luscious, so,
Fake
This world
So great, so taken care of, so,
Constructed
This moment
So pleasuring, so perfect, so,
Wrong
This Life
So right, So rigid, so,
Fabricated
My life
May be free,
Should be true,
Will be real
The sky,
So blue, so soft, so,
Perfect
The grass
So green, so luscious, so,
Fake
This world
So great, so taken care of, so,
Constructed
This moment
So pleasuring, so perfect, so,
Wrong
This Life
So right, So rigid, so,
Fabricated
My life
May be free,
Should be true,
Will be real
Friday, April 1, 2011
The Dying Christian to His Soul
Author's Note: This a poetic mirror of Alexander Pope's The Dying Christian to His Soul. This is an open poem that has an AABBCC rhyming pattern. Pope often uses fictional beliefs for his poetic platform, but it is based on real events. For example, The Rape of the Lock, it speaks of sprites and other legendary beings, but it was about a fight that spurred between his acquaintances. In this poem he talks about a conversation that one would have with their spirit while dying, but it is based on the moral values of a Christian about to die. The above poem is written by Pope, and the lower is my effort at copying it.
The Dying Christian to His Soul
The Sinner on His Deathbed
The Dying Christian to His Soul
Vital spark of heav’nly flame!
Quit, O quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying,
O the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.
Hark! they whisper; angels say,
Sister Spirit, come away!
What is this absorbs me quite?
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be death?
The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav’n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring!
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy vict'ry?
O Death! where is thy sting?
The Sinner on His Deathbed
Needed light of earthly shine
Stop, O stop this state, divine
Waiting, wanting, staying, shaking
O the joy, the love of waking
Stay, thou Man, stay in life
And let me lay, through my strife
Stay! It whispers; that I say,
Brother Spirit, stay O stay!
What be this consumes me whole?
Captures my senses, drowns my soul
Kills my spirits, takes my breath?
Now, my spirit, can this be death?
The world advances, it appears!
Earth opens to my sight! My ears
Full of earthly grinding!
Give, give your horse! Myself minding!
O Grave! Show me it, thy loss
O Death! Show me thy cross
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
A Thought about Meaning
Author's Note: This is a poetic response to the painting of St. Francis of Assisi in the Cave.
Do we know,
What we are?
Are we puppets in a show
Do we know,
That which ties us here?
What are we for
Do we know,
Our meaning in life?
What are we to do
Do we know,
What Life is?
What does the Creator want
Do we know,
If there actually is something to live for?
How are we to know
Do we know,
What real Life is?
How would we
Do we know,
If there is Life and Death?
Only the dead can know
Do we know,
What to do?
Who are we to decide
Monday, October 18, 2010
The Perfect Saturday
Author's Note: This piece is an expansion of a stream of consciousness.
The day had a beginning like most do. My alarm went off, I never want to get up, but always drag myself out of bed. As I got up I'd remembered that today was Saturday. The beginning of the weekend, part one of three of football. Now that I'd remembered the game, I am excited to be getting ready. The feel of football pants is one that can never be matched. As I went down stairs, I knew that today was going to be fun, and I needed to be ready. I needed to conserve my energy for the game so I sat, resting, waiting.
Then it was time. I got up and began filling my water and lacing my cleats. Once that was done I was ready. I grabbed my water, along with my shoulder pads, helmet and gloves. On the way there my gloves found their way to my hands. I needed to begin to enter the football zone.
Everything from getting to the field to begin warm ups, to after they ended was a blur, but now I am ready, ready to fight, ready to kill. The lush green grass under the white paint and feet glistens in the early morning sun. The metallic, shining bleachers only hold a few people, anticipating kickoff. The smell of the fresh grass mixed with sweat smells sweet. The taste of sweat dripping from my lip to my mouth is so salty. It makes me thirsty. Thirsty to hunt. Thirsty to kill. I can't even tell where I am or what I am doing because I have entered that state of mind. The primitive one. I strive to get onto the field, and hit somebody so hard that they won't wake up. Is this wrong, to be this vicious or is it just a mind set? Is it worth my time to be doing this things for sport? Of course it is. It is my outlet, the one place to release all of my pent up anger constructively. I live for days like this. I cannot feel, I just do. The time before the game seems to pass so slow, but I know that once I am out there it will not be able to stop. I love the feel of the leathery ball being grasped in my fingers. The importance. I need this.
The day had a beginning like most do. My alarm went off, I never want to get up, but always drag myself out of bed. As I got up I'd remembered that today was Saturday. The beginning of the weekend, part one of three of football. Now that I'd remembered the game, I am excited to be getting ready. The feel of football pants is one that can never be matched. As I went down stairs, I knew that today was going to be fun, and I needed to be ready. I needed to conserve my energy for the game so I sat, resting, waiting.
Then it was time. I got up and began filling my water and lacing my cleats. Once that was done I was ready. I grabbed my water, along with my shoulder pads, helmet and gloves. On the way there my gloves found their way to my hands. I needed to begin to enter the football zone.
Everything from getting to the field to begin warm ups, to after they ended was a blur, but now I am ready, ready to fight, ready to kill. The lush green grass under the white paint and feet glistens in the early morning sun. The metallic, shining bleachers only hold a few people, anticipating kickoff. The smell of the fresh grass mixed with sweat smells sweet. The taste of sweat dripping from my lip to my mouth is so salty. It makes me thirsty. Thirsty to hunt. Thirsty to kill. I can't even tell where I am or what I am doing because I have entered that state of mind. The primitive one. I strive to get onto the field, and hit somebody so hard that they won't wake up. Is this wrong, to be this vicious or is it just a mind set? Is it worth my time to be doing this things for sport? Of course it is. It is my outlet, the one place to release all of my pent up anger constructively. I live for days like this. I cannot feel, I just do. The time before the game seems to pass so slow, but I know that once I am out there it will not be able to stop. I love the feel of the leathery ball being grasped in my fingers. The importance. I need this.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Simplicity Being Often Overlooked
I live a live just like any other person in the world I have average parents, I'm an average height, everything about me is average. I lie, I do everything that makes people, people, but I feel wrong. I don't know why it is, but I just do, and I don't like the feeling. Well, I live in a subdivision and my house is right up against a huge forest, so I always go there to get away from life. It only works sometimes, other times I'm just too wrapped up in it to let go. One day, when my parents and siblings were at my sister's track meet, I decided to go into the forest. I didn't even think about where I was going I just walked and let my feet carry me. I even closed my eyes. Okay, I did hit a tree or two, but that's it. My feet just knew the way and I let them carry me. Once I opened my eyes all I could do was gawk.
I saw a monstrous river, that probably nobody in my family knew about. It was such an awe inspiring sight that I still see it in my mind. I had to stay, and I knew that. I knew that I had a good four or five hours before anybody would touch my house again so I stayed. I take off my clothes and gently ease in at a foaming bend in the river. I wish not to stay long but I knew that would never happen. As I finally settled I felt suddenly very tired. I just had to relax, and breathe. These were the thoughts going through my head, and then I woke up. I had no idea I was asleep until I had waken, but now looking at the river I was glad to have stayed.
The river glistened in the mid afternoon light, rolling off the rocks gently giving life to fish and plants alike. I just want to sit here for the rest of my life, one with nature, the promising future of earth. I feel as if I have been here long enough to grow roots, yet I am just a filter to which the water passes through cleansing me, my soul and my body, as if to say that I have a clean slate, a new life with which to do whatever I please.
I saw a monstrous river, that probably nobody in my family knew about. It was such an awe inspiring sight that I still see it in my mind. I had to stay, and I knew that. I knew that I had a good four or five hours before anybody would touch my house again so I stayed. I take off my clothes and gently ease in at a foaming bend in the river. I wish not to stay long but I knew that would never happen. As I finally settled I felt suddenly very tired. I just had to relax, and breathe. These were the thoughts going through my head, and then I woke up. I had no idea I was asleep until I had waken, but now looking at the river I was glad to have stayed.
The river glistened in the mid afternoon light, rolling off the rocks gently giving life to fish and plants alike. I just want to sit here for the rest of my life, one with nature, the promising future of earth. I feel as if I have been here long enough to grow roots, yet I am just a filter to which the water passes through cleansing me, my soul and my body, as if to say that I have a clean slate, a new life with which to do whatever I please.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Elation
Author's note: This is a poem about the emotions that come with a new summer and then the ones that will accompany a new school year.
Freedom at no expense
Elation
Nowhere to be
Sloth
Nothing to do
Relaxation
Friends whenever and wherever
Glory
Running out of things to do
Needing
Seeing nobody
Desire
Being the oldest
Craving
Losing everything and starting over
Nervousness
Freedom at no expense
Elation
Nowhere to be
Sloth
Nothing to do
Relaxation
Friends whenever and wherever
Glory
Running out of things to do
Needing
Seeing nobody
Desire
Being the oldest
Craving
Losing everything and starting over
Nervousness
Monday, May 10, 2010
The Meaning of Life
What really is life? Why are we here? We have been born right into this moment of time. Is that just luck and happening or is a divine hand involved. Is there really a God or just science? Does this idea of something divine change everything? It may seem only scientific, but does something divine make it so? It may just be luck that Earth is just far enough from the sun to let life exist on it. Is it possible that a God made the Earth this far away, or made the sun only just as hot as it is? Why do I think like I do? Is it coincidence or did something make me like I am? What drives us to make the decisions we make everyday? It may seem unimportant, but it could completely alter our path in life.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
A Mauling Worthy of Gin
a fictional response to Skullduggery by Kathleen Karr
Author's Note: This book is about people that go around digging up skulls for science, but somebody had been going after full freshly dead bodies and following the main character. This is from the point of view of Gin. He is Matthew Moriessey's dog. This is the fight sence from the book, but this time its from Gin's point of view.
How much stupider can you get, I thought to myself. Matthew, my master, had just attacked a body snatcher that is much bigger than him. Plus Matthew had no weapon. He did. As soon as Matthew left our hiding place sprinting I knew that it wouldn't end well. I have to protect my master at all costs. Its time to see what dogs can do.
"NO!!!!," I screamed at the top of my lungs, but it only came out as "WOOF! Woof woof woof!" By now, Matthew was closing in on the body snatcher, and the body snatcher had seen him. Matthew was very ill prepared compared to the body snatcher who had a knife and a full bottle of gin. Ironic? I think so. Anyways, Matthew had come to the body snatcher and head-butted him. While running full speed. He had caught the body snatcher off guard, but the body snatcher’s arms had come in on impact. Carrying a knife. Right into Matthew’s head. I had to defend my injured master. It’s a good thing that the body snatcher wasn’t expecting a dog, so I caught him unprepared, and never let up. I nearly had his knife arm for breakfast, and I would’ve if the police hadn’t shown up.
Author's Note: This book is about people that go around digging up skulls for science, but somebody had been going after full freshly dead bodies and following the main character. This is from the point of view of Gin. He is Matthew Moriessey's dog. This is the fight sence from the book, but this time its from Gin's point of view.
How much stupider can you get, I thought to myself. Matthew, my master, had just attacked a body snatcher that is much bigger than him. Plus Matthew had no weapon. He did. As soon as Matthew left our hiding place sprinting I knew that it wouldn't end well. I have to protect my master at all costs. Its time to see what dogs can do.
"NO!!!!," I screamed at the top of my lungs, but it only came out as "WOOF! Woof woof woof!" By now, Matthew was closing in on the body snatcher, and the body snatcher had seen him. Matthew was very ill prepared compared to the body snatcher who had a knife and a full bottle of gin. Ironic? I think so. Anyways, Matthew had come to the body snatcher and head-butted him. While running full speed. He had caught the body snatcher off guard, but the body snatcher’s arms had come in on impact. Carrying a knife. Right into Matthew’s head. I had to defend my injured master. It’s a good thing that the body snatcher wasn’t expecting a dog, so I caught him unprepared, and never let up. I nearly had his knife arm for breakfast, and I would’ve if the police hadn’t shown up.
A Wealth of Knowledge
a poetic response to Skullduggery by Kathleen Karr
Used every day for the simplest things
Heads
Always working
Brains
It makes you you
Personality
Many would lose it if it wasn't attached
Heads
Used every second until death
Brains
Separated you from the world
Personality
Scientifically dug up
Heads
Bulge and need space
Brains
Bulges indicate
Personality
All of the above
Phrenology
The adventure that it entails
Skullduggery
Used every day for the simplest things
Heads
Always working
Brains
It makes you you
Personality
Many would lose it if it wasn't attached
Heads
Used every second until death
Brains
Separated you from the world
Personality
Scientifically dug up
Heads
Bulge and need space
Brains
Bulges indicate
Personality
All of the above
Phrenology
The adventure that it entails
Skullduggery
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Nature's Beauty and Significance
Authors Note: I wrote this to show the natural beauty that happens every year and is just taken for granted. I also wanted to show it in a very relaxed environment.
Today I had my last football game of the season. Even though we had the conditioning czar it was an enjoyable season. In late autumn most of the trees are bare or orange. Besides the evergreens that is because, well the name kind of explains that. Coming off of a huge blow out of the Oconomowoc Coonies I was ecstatic. As awesome as the game was I was bummed because my dad is the worst person at finding open parking spots. EVER! We had to walk a mile, literally, but I thought might as well enjoy it.
I was looking closely at both the world around me and inside. As the light shone through the parting clouds it highlighted the orange glow of the maple leaves as they gently dropped off the tree to the ground cushioned by the cutting fall breeze as winter comes to turn orange, white. I knew that we must savor what is left here. What is here now. We must pass this picture of perfection to those near and around us. Tell all, show all what is needed in life for it to be worth living and complete. We are called by an unknown force to this one spot. This one moment. It must show us that the earth our home, the one which we are destroying, taking it past its prime, has promise. Once again we gather together in honor of the earth and its natural cycles. Realizing how insignificant we really are. We are but a speck of dust floating around in this never ending region of hope we call the universe, but while we have free will use it to every extent.
Today I had my last football game of the season. Even though we had the conditioning czar it was an enjoyable season. In late autumn most of the trees are bare or orange. Besides the evergreens that is because, well the name kind of explains that. Coming off of a huge blow out of the Oconomowoc Coonies I was ecstatic. As awesome as the game was I was bummed because my dad is the worst person at finding open parking spots. EVER! We had to walk a mile, literally, but I thought might as well enjoy it.
I was looking closely at both the world around me and inside. As the light shone through the parting clouds it highlighted the orange glow of the maple leaves as they gently dropped off the tree to the ground cushioned by the cutting fall breeze as winter comes to turn orange, white. I knew that we must savor what is left here. What is here now. We must pass this picture of perfection to those near and around us. Tell all, show all what is needed in life for it to be worth living and complete. We are called by an unknown force to this one spot. This one moment. It must show us that the earth our home, the one which we are destroying, taking it past its prime, has promise. Once again we gather together in honor of the earth and its natural cycles. Realizing how insignificant we really are. We are but a speck of dust floating around in this never ending region of hope we call the universe, but while we have free will use it to every extent.
Friday, March 12, 2010
A Romantic Vacation of Sorts
Author's Note: I wrote this as an expansion of a stream of consciousness. It is fiction, but it has some of the qualities my real family has. Even with all of those, there are many that are very unrealistic about my family.
Many may see my life as perfect. I see it as being no where near. I may live in the biggest house in Maine, but that's not a big accomplishment. I have to please everybody. With my dad being governor I am supposed to be a role model for all of the children of Maine. I try to please my sports coaches, my teachers, my parents, the whole country, and most difficult of all, my friends. I don't even know which ones are my true friends or if they just endure my company to get to my dad. It is a stressful life I lead, and I was really looking forward to spring break. Me, my sister, my mom and unfortunately my dad were going to Hawaii.
My mom, being the freak that she is, booked us on a six AM flight out of Augusta to Oahu, but that isn't even the bad part. We had to get there at three. On a Saturday. Which means waking up at one-thirty. On the first day of spring break. The first time I heard the news I was heart broken. The flight was uneventful. I'm not sure if this is because it was just a boring flight or that I was unconscious for the vast majority of it.
When we landed I could actually feel a weight lifted off of my shoulders in the from of a refreshing Hawaiian breeze. It made me feel like I could do anything. After my rest on the way in I was as alert as possible not wanting to miss even one little detail. I knew this was going to be a great trip. The rest of the day was about as uneventful as the plane ride in, but I knew that the following days would be anything but boring.
Going in I had no idea of our itinerary, but I learned we would be going to the beach. I find it amazing what a few years of very menial Spanish classes can do. When we got to the beach we couldn't wait to go swimming, but my sister, being the pain she is, decided she needed some food first. Then my parents while thinking about it decided they did too. Am I the only sane person in my family? Anyways, instead of going with them to eat my parents said that I could stay back, so as soon as I heard that I sprinted into the water so they couldn't change their mind.
I had a great time jumping over waves and going for a leisurely oceanic swim. I knew the day was dwindling and I hadn't seen head nor hide of my family since when they went to get food so I didn't know what happened, but I didn't care I had a change of clothes and enough money for a cab ride back. I knew I would eventually need to go back, but how many times do you ever get to watch a Hawaiian sunset uninterrupted.
As I sat there on those snow white, glimmering beaches watching the ebb and flow of the soft, quiet, and calming waves, along with the most beautiful sunset ever to be witnessed on the face of Earth. It was here I came to realize that I live a lie. I say things that I really don't believe. I'm not what I say I am, yet I'm happy with myself. Is this because I say and live it so much it has become me and I cannot find the true me, or is it the fact that I have no idea how to just simply relax and be me? Then the waves crashed one more time wetting my feet in their comforting embrace then they let go just as suddenly, and I found in myself that I am the exact person I want to be. That has brought me the most inner peace than I have felt in a very long time.
As self centering as being on a beach can be all great things must come to an end. After that day I never thought of myself the same again, but everybody else saw me as the me they always saw. The rest of vacation was paled in comparison to that single day. I wouldn't change anything I did even if I got the chance.
Many may see my life as perfect. I see it as being no where near. I may live in the biggest house in Maine, but that's not a big accomplishment. I have to please everybody. With my dad being governor I am supposed to be a role model for all of the children of Maine. I try to please my sports coaches, my teachers, my parents, the whole country, and most difficult of all, my friends. I don't even know which ones are my true friends or if they just endure my company to get to my dad. It is a stressful life I lead, and I was really looking forward to spring break. Me, my sister, my mom and unfortunately my dad were going to Hawaii.
My mom, being the freak that she is, booked us on a six AM flight out of Augusta to Oahu, but that isn't even the bad part. We had to get there at three. On a Saturday. Which means waking up at one-thirty. On the first day of spring break. The first time I heard the news I was heart broken. The flight was uneventful. I'm not sure if this is because it was just a boring flight or that I was unconscious for the vast majority of it.
When we landed I could actually feel a weight lifted off of my shoulders in the from of a refreshing Hawaiian breeze. It made me feel like I could do anything. After my rest on the way in I was as alert as possible not wanting to miss even one little detail. I knew this was going to be a great trip. The rest of the day was about as uneventful as the plane ride in, but I knew that the following days would be anything but boring.
Going in I had no idea of our itinerary, but I learned we would be going to the beach. I find it amazing what a few years of very menial Spanish classes can do. When we got to the beach we couldn't wait to go swimming, but my sister, being the pain she is, decided she needed some food first. Then my parents while thinking about it decided they did too. Am I the only sane person in my family? Anyways, instead of going with them to eat my parents said that I could stay back, so as soon as I heard that I sprinted into the water so they couldn't change their mind.
I had a great time jumping over waves and going for a leisurely oceanic swim. I knew the day was dwindling and I hadn't seen head nor hide of my family since when they went to get food so I didn't know what happened, but I didn't care I had a change of clothes and enough money for a cab ride back. I knew I would eventually need to go back, but how many times do you ever get to watch a Hawaiian sunset uninterrupted.
As I sat there on those snow white, glimmering beaches watching the ebb and flow of the soft, quiet, and calming waves, along with the most beautiful sunset ever to be witnessed on the face of Earth. It was here I came to realize that I live a lie. I say things that I really don't believe. I'm not what I say I am, yet I'm happy with myself. Is this because I say and live it so much it has become me and I cannot find the true me, or is it the fact that I have no idea how to just simply relax and be me? Then the waves crashed one more time wetting my feet in their comforting embrace then they let go just as suddenly, and I found in myself that I am the exact person I want to be. That has brought me the most inner peace than I have felt in a very long time.
As self centering as being on a beach can be all great things must come to an end. After that day I never thought of myself the same again, but everybody else saw me as the me they always saw. The rest of vacation was paled in comparison to that single day. I wouldn't change anything I did even if I got the chance.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
An Ironic Journal
Author's Note: For this post I just expanded one of my journal entries into a very farfetched story of how something like that could've happened, but I really wanted to expand on it and this is the only idea I got.
June 23, 1993, 10 AM
I'm as nervous as one could ever be. The past weeks have been a roller coaster of which I could never get off. It began with me being a homeless beggar on the lowly streets of Chicago. When I saw posters for a job with high pay and tons of glory, but only after I received the job did I realize it meant being a crew hand on a trek to the north pole. Me and my fourteen crew mates are scared out of our mind and with a slave driver as a captain none of us believe we will see civilization again. The only redeeming quality is a bunch of time with twenty huskies.
June 30, 1993, noon
As we see land we all prepare the dogs and carry as much gear as we need on our backs and all that we can onto the dogs. The tension in the air could be cut with a butter knife at this point. Many of the crew believe we have over packed the dogs and that they will find it too hard to bear very soon.
July 4, 1993, 2 PM
Being from Chicago I always look forward to the 4th of July because the Cubs usually play and there are hot dogs everywhere. I love it, but this one was different. I am in the midst of the longest most boring journey ever. Already we have had to slaughter two crew mates and one dog for food. If it had not been for fear of starvation setting in I would have refused to eat it but I need strength.
July 7, 1993, 6 PM
This is the first time that I've had the opportunity to write. I wonder how the Cubs are doing? I know its a weird thing to think about but its the only thing that keeps me sane. Since I last wrote we have killed two more dogs and three crew members. Every time I think I'm next. That thought makes me work as hard as I do, for I have noticed that the weaker slackers get killed.
July 10, 1993, 7 PM
I'm still here, but two dogs and the captain aren't. We needed food and a change of leadership so we decided to do those at the same time. The captain was driving us too hard which is what led us to needing more food, so we believe that now we could save more animals and people by going at a slower pace.
July 12, 1993, 6 PM
Our tactic didn't work we are down three more dogs but no more crew. Today we finally reached the pole but now the trek back is the hard part. It turns out that we made the journey in twelve days.
July 14, 1993, 1 AM
Now our pace is as hectic as ever to get back, but in the scramble one of our dogs broke the frozen harness and ran into the wintry wilderness. As we hope to get to our ship we are unsure of our direction because we fear that the distance between the geographical and magnetic north poles differ enough to throw our course off.
July 18, 1993, midnight
Our fast pace has taken a toll on the remaining five crew members and eight dogs. WE have lost some due to the cold and some to malnutrition and some to keep the rest of us alive. We still have no idea of our direction or distance to the sea.
July 18, 1993, 3:30 PM
I believe that we are close to the sea, but this knowledge came at a great expense to our expedition. A tragedy even, as we were trekking some ice fell through and took 3 men to hypothermia and 7 dogs were never to be seen again.
July 19, 1993, 1 PM
I had to kill the other men because our hunger was too great to keep and the food supply would barely last anytime with three hungry stomachs so we have to continue with two.
July 20, 1993, 2 PM
My last dog ran with my sled because after I had unloaded the sled he got impatient and i had no chance, being physically and mentally exhausted. Now I have no chance of surviving. I can last a maximum of 1 week if rationing my supplies to a bare minimum.
July 22, 1993, 1 AM
I knew I had no chance of surviving so I decided to have a feast and burn all of my resources at once.
July 22, 1993, 2 PM
Snow, I see it falling endlessly day after day, driving me blind with white. Although so bright and giving I am trapped in darkness and despair waiting for the sad lonesome creature that is starvation to set in. As I lay motionless in the snow I see movement on the horizon, I muster all of the strength I have left in my body and chase it. Then as I finally catch up with it I talk to the musher and we sit for a drink of melted snow. We have a fine time then as he packs up I ask to come with and I get shunned, for he is just a figment of my imagination so gracefully passing me by. So with all the hope that has come with the day it ends as it started in despair and hopelessness, with me laying on the ground, starving, with snow. That is the way it has always been, is now, and will always be.
June 23, 1993, 10 AM
I'm as nervous as one could ever be. The past weeks have been a roller coaster of which I could never get off. It began with me being a homeless beggar on the lowly streets of Chicago. When I saw posters for a job with high pay and tons of glory, but only after I received the job did I realize it meant being a crew hand on a trek to the north pole. Me and my fourteen crew mates are scared out of our mind and with a slave driver as a captain none of us believe we will see civilization again. The only redeeming quality is a bunch of time with twenty huskies.
June 30, 1993, noon
As we see land we all prepare the dogs and carry as much gear as we need on our backs and all that we can onto the dogs. The tension in the air could be cut with a butter knife at this point. Many of the crew believe we have over packed the dogs and that they will find it too hard to bear very soon.
July 4, 1993, 2 PM
Being from Chicago I always look forward to the 4th of July because the Cubs usually play and there are hot dogs everywhere. I love it, but this one was different. I am in the midst of the longest most boring journey ever. Already we have had to slaughter two crew mates and one dog for food. If it had not been for fear of starvation setting in I would have refused to eat it but I need strength.
July 7, 1993, 6 PM
This is the first time that I've had the opportunity to write. I wonder how the Cubs are doing? I know its a weird thing to think about but its the only thing that keeps me sane. Since I last wrote we have killed two more dogs and three crew members. Every time I think I'm next. That thought makes me work as hard as I do, for I have noticed that the weaker slackers get killed.
July 10, 1993, 7 PM
I'm still here, but two dogs and the captain aren't. We needed food and a change of leadership so we decided to do those at the same time. The captain was driving us too hard which is what led us to needing more food, so we believe that now we could save more animals and people by going at a slower pace.
July 12, 1993, 6 PM
Our tactic didn't work we are down three more dogs but no more crew. Today we finally reached the pole but now the trek back is the hard part. It turns out that we made the journey in twelve days.
July 14, 1993, 1 AM
Now our pace is as hectic as ever to get back, but in the scramble one of our dogs broke the frozen harness and ran into the wintry wilderness. As we hope to get to our ship we are unsure of our direction because we fear that the distance between the geographical and magnetic north poles differ enough to throw our course off.
July 18, 1993, midnight
Our fast pace has taken a toll on the remaining five crew members and eight dogs. WE have lost some due to the cold and some to malnutrition and some to keep the rest of us alive. We still have no idea of our direction or distance to the sea.
July 18, 1993, 3:30 PM
I believe that we are close to the sea, but this knowledge came at a great expense to our expedition. A tragedy even, as we were trekking some ice fell through and took 3 men to hypothermia and 7 dogs were never to be seen again.
July 19, 1993, 1 PM
I had to kill the other men because our hunger was too great to keep and the food supply would barely last anytime with three hungry stomachs so we have to continue with two.
July 20, 1993, 2 PM
My last dog ran with my sled because after I had unloaded the sled he got impatient and i had no chance, being physically and mentally exhausted. Now I have no chance of surviving. I can last a maximum of 1 week if rationing my supplies to a bare minimum.
July 22, 1993, 1 AM
I knew I had no chance of surviving so I decided to have a feast and burn all of my resources at once.
July 22, 1993, 2 PM
Snow, I see it falling endlessly day after day, driving me blind with white. Although so bright and giving I am trapped in darkness and despair waiting for the sad lonesome creature that is starvation to set in. As I lay motionless in the snow I see movement on the horizon, I muster all of the strength I have left in my body and chase it. Then as I finally catch up with it I talk to the musher and we sit for a drink of melted snow. We have a fine time then as he packs up I ask to come with and I get shunned, for he is just a figment of my imagination so gracefully passing me by. So with all the hope that has come with the day it ends as it started in despair and hopelessness, with me laying on the ground, starving, with snow. That is the way it has always been, is now, and will always be.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
A Different Literary Analysis
Author's Note: This is the physical embodiment of thoughts of what I've been pondering for as long as I can remember.
What really are words? Just sound combinations that our minds take in as they mean something? Or are they actual things? What is really happening when we write? Writing is a thing that on so many levels is personal should not be shared yet if we don't stretch our boundries we will never improve. How can this delacate balance be kept? Writing is our wishes, dreams, and expieriences in our words to tell to those that we will never know or see. What are books but just organized splotches of ink that is taken to be more than it really is? So simple but the meanings behind the ink could be so complicated and knowing. How are we to know what to take to heart, what to take with a grain of salt, and what to completely throw to the side of the road?
What really are words? Just sound combinations that our minds take in as they mean something? Or are they actual things? What is really happening when we write? Writing is a thing that on so many levels is personal should not be shared yet if we don't stretch our boundries we will never improve. How can this delacate balance be kept? Writing is our wishes, dreams, and expieriences in our words to tell to those that we will never know or see. What are books but just organized splotches of ink that is taken to be more than it really is? So simple but the meanings behind the ink could be so complicated and knowing. How are we to know what to take to heart, what to take with a grain of salt, and what to completely throw to the side of the road?
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Spring Poem
Author's Note: I wrote this poem to convey the natural order and cycle of things through something that everybody understands. What better that nature?
Spring hides in and underneath all that is winter
Waiting paitiently to shine
Growing with each second
Finding itself
Slowly it emerges
Washing away white as a speck of dirt
Chances appear like new leaves
A new birth
As a mother nutures a child
The earth is nurtured by spring
But as a mother must let go
So must spring into a warm peaceful summer
Spring hides in and underneath all that is winter
Waiting paitiently to shine
Growing with each second
Finding itself
Slowly it emerges
Washing away white as a speck of dirt
Chances appear like new leaves
A new birth
As a mother nutures a child
The earth is nurtured by spring
But as a mother must let go
So must spring into a warm peaceful summer
Friday, December 11, 2009
Christmas
Author's Note: This is a poem of what comes to the forefront of my mind whenever I think of Christmas. I wanted to convey it, but lightly, so then came a poem.
Christmas
Smells of pine
Christmas
Glittering presents
Christmas
Giving back
Christmas
Santa's Sleigh
Christmas
Family together
Christmas
Love
Christmas
Peace
Christmas
Smells of pine
Christmas
Glittering presents
Christmas
Giving back
Christmas
Santa's Sleigh
Christmas
Family together
Christmas
Love
Christmas
Peace
Monday, December 7, 2009
The Adventure Behind the Fridge
Author's Note: This is more of an impromptu, but true story. When this happened I knew that it needed to be let to the public for some relief from their daily lives. Even though this was greatly embarrassing to Gabe at the time, it is now something that is laughed over.
In late November my step-brother Gabe got stuck... Behind a fridge. I know this sounds weird so I'll walk you through it. See me and him were playing a game with a tennis ball and he flipped it up on top of the cabinets we have down there. This is in my basement just so you know. Anyways, the ball fell down a hole up there, so he got up on a chair. Then climbed onto the cabinets. I asked him "Are you sure you can get out?"
"Yeah. Don't worry." so I let him go down. He picked up the tennis ball and flipped it out of the hole. That's when it all turned sour. He said "Uhhh, Sam?"
"Yeah?" I replied.
"Uhh, I don't think I can get out."
"Wow! Smart one!" First I tried to move the fridge, as it was on wheels but there was a wall between where the fridge had been and Gabe. Then I tried to pull him out through the top but I couldn't get any leverage. Then I tried to use my sweatshirt to get him out like a rope to see if that would provide the needed leverage. It didn't work. Then he started hyperventilating and saying things to the effect of, "Ahhhhhh!!!! I don't want to die!"
"Oh, It'll be fine." I would say while laughing to myself. Then I ran upstairs and my step-mom was at the computer and I said to her "Missy we have a situation."
"What kind of situation?" She asked
"Gabe's stuck"
"Stuck? Stuck where?"
"Behind the fridge but it'll be easier if I show you."
"Well come on then!" We ran down stairs and Gabe was crying his eyes out. Missy immediately said "Sam, call 911."
"NO! No I don't want to be on public TV." Gabe screamed
"You won't be on TV."
"Can't you just try to get me out? Or knock down a wall. I just don't want to be on TV." So she tried to get him out but like I said no leverage. So she said "OK, Gabe, I'm going to call the cops to get you out."
"No just knock down a wall please."
"I don't think I can without hurting you."
"Fine" By now he was over being stuck. So then a cop came and tried to get him out. No luck, so the cop called his lieutenant to come and try to help get Gabe out.When the lieutenant got there he took the weight bar from our work out area and tried to use that to get leverage. Nope. So finally in the end they just kicked in some dry wall in the unfinished part of our basement and got him out. The whole experience took over an hour.
In late November my step-brother Gabe got stuck... Behind a fridge. I know this sounds weird so I'll walk you through it. See me and him were playing a game with a tennis ball and he flipped it up on top of the cabinets we have down there. This is in my basement just so you know. Anyways, the ball fell down a hole up there, so he got up on a chair. Then climbed onto the cabinets. I asked him "Are you sure you can get out?"
"Yeah. Don't worry." so I let him go down. He picked up the tennis ball and flipped it out of the hole. That's when it all turned sour. He said "Uhhh, Sam?"
"Yeah?" I replied.
"Uhh, I don't think I can get out."
"Wow! Smart one!" First I tried to move the fridge, as it was on wheels but there was a wall between where the fridge had been and Gabe. Then I tried to pull him out through the top but I couldn't get any leverage. Then I tried to use my sweatshirt to get him out like a rope to see if that would provide the needed leverage. It didn't work. Then he started hyperventilating and saying things to the effect of, "Ahhhhhh!!!! I don't want to die!"
"Oh, It'll be fine." I would say while laughing to myself. Then I ran upstairs and my step-mom was at the computer and I said to her "Missy we have a situation."
"What kind of situation?" She asked
"Gabe's stuck"
"Stuck? Stuck where?"
"Behind the fridge but it'll be easier if I show you."
"Well come on then!" We ran down stairs and Gabe was crying his eyes out. Missy immediately said "Sam, call 911."
"NO! No I don't want to be on public TV." Gabe screamed
"You won't be on TV."
"Can't you just try to get me out? Or knock down a wall. I just don't want to be on TV." So she tried to get him out but like I said no leverage. So she said "OK, Gabe, I'm going to call the cops to get you out."
"No just knock down a wall please."
"I don't think I can without hurting you."
"Fine" By now he was over being stuck. So then a cop came and tried to get him out. No luck, so the cop called his lieutenant to come and try to help get Gabe out.When the lieutenant got there he took the weight bar from our work out area and tried to use that to get leverage. Nope. So finally in the end they just kicked in some dry wall in the unfinished part of our basement and got him out. The whole experience took over an hour.
Friday, December 4, 2009
A Terrible Thanksgiving
Author's Note: I find that this post speaks to humans as a whole. Most of us see what we have, enjoy it for a small time then dread either what is to come due to it, or what can't be avoided by having it. What we must do is do only what we can, nothing more, nothing less, and when that's done what happens is supposed to happen.
I wake up to the smell of turkey wafting down from upstairs. The smell gently blanketing the house in such a heavenly aroma. I get out of bed and follow my nose and rise to see a great feast so invitingly emerging out of our humble table. The food gods have blessed this day over and over again. My mother scolds me for waking up at eleven but all is soon forgotten as we sit at the table and stuff ourselves silly. Literally. A joyous day an even better food coma. We all muster the strength to get to the living room so we can watch the football games. What's better food football and more food? As the Lions get crushed I wish for nothing but to live this day over again and again. That is the best life imaginable. As I get hungry which is only possible for me after Thanksgiving lunch I salivate over the left over turkey that I am about to gorge myself on. Oh so wonderful.
I wish I could hold on to that. That dream. Now laying here in my cold bed trying to go back I dread the coming of the manifestation that no human should speak of that is coming in mere hours. School.
I wake up to the smell of turkey wafting down from upstairs. The smell gently blanketing the house in such a heavenly aroma. I get out of bed and follow my nose and rise to see a great feast so invitingly emerging out of our humble table. The food gods have blessed this day over and over again. My mother scolds me for waking up at eleven but all is soon forgotten as we sit at the table and stuff ourselves silly. Literally. A joyous day an even better food coma. We all muster the strength to get to the living room so we can watch the football games. What's better food football and more food? As the Lions get crushed I wish for nothing but to live this day over again and again. That is the best life imaginable. As I get hungry which is only possible for me after Thanksgiving lunch I salivate over the left over turkey that I am about to gorge myself on. Oh so wonderful.
I wish I could hold on to that. That dream. Now laying here in my cold bed trying to go back I dread the coming of the manifestation that no human should speak of that is coming in mere hours. School.
Leaves
Author's Note: This post is about how nature is full of perfect moments, but us being humans think of nothing except for what we need to do next. I find it very troubling. Even if we just take five seconds or so to appreciate nature, life would be so much more enjoyable.
As the light shines through the parting clouds it highlights the orange glow of the maple leaves as they gently drop off the tree to the ground cushioned by the cutting fall breeze as winter comes to turn orange, white. We must savor what is left here. What is here now. We must pass this picture of perfection to those near and around us. Tell all, show all what is needed in life for it to be worth living and complete. We are called by an unknown force to this one spot. This one moment. It must show us that the earth our home, the one which we are destroying, taking it past its prime, has promise. Once again we gather together in honor of the earth and its natural cycles. Realizing how insignificant we really are. We are but a speck of dust floating around in this never ending region of hope we call the universe.
As the light shines through the parting clouds it highlights the orange glow of the maple leaves as they gently drop off the tree to the ground cushioned by the cutting fall breeze as winter comes to turn orange, white. We must savor what is left here. What is here now. We must pass this picture of perfection to those near and around us. Tell all, show all what is needed in life for it to be worth living and complete. We are called by an unknown force to this one spot. This one moment. It must show us that the earth our home, the one which we are destroying, taking it past its prime, has promise. Once again we gather together in honor of the earth and its natural cycles. Realizing how insignificant we really are. We are but a speck of dust floating around in this never ending region of hope we call the universe.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
River
The river glistens in the mid afternoon light, rolling off the rocks gently giving life to fish and plants alike. As I ease in at the foaming bend in the river I feel better than I have in years. I just want to sit here for the rest of my life, one with nature, the promising future of earth. I feel as if I have been here long enough to grow roots, yet I am just a filter to which the water passes through cleansing me, my soul and my body, as if to say that I have a clean slate, a new life with which to do whatever I please.
Ocean Stream of Consciousness
Author's Note: This is a stream of consciousness to the word ocean. It fits with what I believe the world should truly be like, with eveything and person in harmony. All that we have now is chaos. Although it may not be visible on the outside it is always there.
The sandy white beaches give way peacefully to the gentle lapping of ocean's waves. Out in the vast great beyond dolphins and seals gently play completely oblivious to the fact that this could be their last hour on earth, but for this moment, this one time, they are happy, without a care in the world. The bottom of the sea filled with sponges and stars is as tranquil as the night sky, yet it gets so peacefully and willingly disturbed by the magnificent and majestic fish in their schools swimming, inviting the lone scuba diver to join their slow rhythmic dance. What some would thin a smudge on the background seem so natural and fitting where everything lives together in this one moment this lone speck in the endless abyss that is eternity.
The sandy white beaches give way peacefully to the gentle lapping of ocean's waves. Out in the vast great beyond dolphins and seals gently play completely oblivious to the fact that this could be their last hour on earth, but for this moment, this one time, they are happy, without a care in the world. The bottom of the sea filled with sponges and stars is as tranquil as the night sky, yet it gets so peacefully and willingly disturbed by the magnificent and majestic fish in their schools swimming, inviting the lone scuba diver to join their slow rhythmic dance. What some would thin a smudge on the background seem so natural and fitting where everything lives together in this one moment this lone speck in the endless abyss that is eternity.
Ocean
Author's Note: This is a journal entry of the ocean. I really think it speaks to my being because I always daydream and fantasize of not needing to lie anymore, and being free.
As I sit here on these snow white, glimmering beaches watching the ebb and flow of the soft, quiet, and calming waves. It is here I come to realize that I live a lie. I say things that I really don't believe. I'm not what I say I am, yet I'm happy with myself. Is this because I say and live it so much it has become me and I cannot find the true me, or is it the fact that I have no idea how to just simply relax and be me? Then the waves crash one more time wetting my feet in their comforting embrace then they let go just as suddenly, and I find in myself that I am the exact person I want to be.
As I sit here on these snow white, glimmering beaches watching the ebb and flow of the soft, quiet, and calming waves. It is here I come to realize that I live a lie. I say things that I really don't believe. I'm not what I say I am, yet I'm happy with myself. Is this because I say and live it so much it has become me and I cannot find the true me, or is it the fact that I have no idea how to just simply relax and be me? Then the waves crash one more time wetting my feet in their comforting embrace then they let go just as suddenly, and I find in myself that I am the exact person I want to be.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
An Ironic Journal Entry: Snow
Author's Note: This is a stream of consciousness journal entry. I just thought of an image dealing with snow and I guess this is what my subconscious self want to tell my conscious one.
Snow, I see it falling endlessly day after day, driving me blind with white. Although so bright and giving I am trapped in darkness and despair waiting for the sad lonesome creature that is starvation to set in. As I lay motionless in the snow I see movement on the horizon, I muster all of the strength I have left in my body and chase it. Then as I finally catch up with it I talk to the musher and we sit for a drink of melted snow. We have a fine time then as he packs up I ask to come with and I get shunned, for he is just a figment of my imagination so gracefully passing me by. So with all the hope that has come with the day it ends as it started in despair and hopelessness, with me laying on the ground, starving, with snow. That is the way it has always been, is now, and will always be.
Snow, I see it falling endlessly day after day, driving me blind with white. Although so bright and giving I am trapped in darkness and despair waiting for the sad lonesome creature that is starvation to set in. As I lay motionless in the snow I see movement on the horizon, I muster all of the strength I have left in my body and chase it. Then as I finally catch up with it I talk to the musher and we sit for a drink of melted snow. We have a fine time then as he packs up I ask to come with and I get shunned, for he is just a figment of my imagination so gracefully passing me by. So with all the hope that has come with the day it ends as it started in despair and hopelessness, with me laying on the ground, starving, with snow. That is the way it has always been, is now, and will always be.
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