Seventh grade was just one huge homework of worksheets. Each school day was a question with 8 parts-(a), (b), (c), (d), and so on, each representing each period and each day was one worksheet. And within that huge metaphor? I’m failing.

Think of each subject like a weight. Extra-curricular/after school are, say, six lbs per thing, and subjects plus homework plus tests and quizzes are seven. Then I would have twelve pounds of after school and fifty-six pounds of in-school/homework to do. 56+12=68 pounds of stress on my small and innocent back…everyday.

I think school can best be represented as one of those games where you have a farm or a zoo or whatever. And you have money that you earn from the animals or plants and then you have jewels or golden tickets or some other sort of hard-to-get item that you can use money for to purchase, and you want to buy it because otherwise everything would take hours to complete in the game. Well with that comparison, the time was my work and the jewels was my off-taskness. I can’t spend money to purchase the jewels-because my parents wouldn’t let me flunk any subjects-and the jewels are limited before I really start failing. So every week I buy my animals and breed them and wait eight hours for each process. And then I feed them and get more and all the while my mind keeps drifting toward those jewels, just waiting for me to use them to speed them up. The iPad begging for me to play on it, if only for a little while.
And so the conclusion of my dramatic, devastating year is a good thing. A very good thing. And I’m very glad summer is just 17 school days away…

School in a nutshell-work. Homework, schoolwork, class work, physical work, sleepless work, extra-curricular work. School is about the extent to which you can work. For some, mental abilities are stretched to achieve the best grades. However these are meaningless numbers that add and average out to scores. What is the meaning of this madness? It seems there isn’t any at all except ourselves.
Long ago, an article was published about our curiosity. The average adult person is always curious-for places, for ideas, for experiments. We build planes and cars and rockets to explore. We strap ourselves in to roller coasters to feel-feel the exciting feeling without causing pain or even death. For the pleasure without the danger.
And curiosity. What idea can you think of that Man has not explored to his extent of? We are so curious, so hungry to know that whatever we don’t know becomes a source of danger…such as ourselves. Man’s willing to know is so strong that he demands his children to learn. And so we decide that our children must learn the core knowledge that let’s us survive and then those children-our dearest seeds of survival and our future-would in turn learn from what they already learned and plunge into even more complicated regions of that knowledge.
And so, the school is formed to teach students so that they could learn more and more. Because what we don’t know about we are afraid of. And what we are afraid of we yearn to control.
Bizarre as it sounds, we really are afraid of ourselves. Not each Man and himself but each Man and another Man. Each and every creature on the planet is capable of hundreds of emotions and thousands of reactions. Why is it that your best friend is your best friend? Because you are alike, perhaps is part of it. And trust, and kindness. But a major reason you could tell her your darkest secrets and your deepest crushes is because you know that person. You know she likes pizza, you know she has English first period, you know she’s ticklish under her chin and that she electrified herself when she was four and that her favorite food is chocolate. And those you don’t know…why do you think your parents told you to beware of strangers?
Classmates, remember that without knowledge we wouldn’t survive. In every war did we not spare women and children? Women, to produce the children, and children to be the future. We are the future…and therefore, those older must give us the knowledge to survive what time brings us.
I do agree that the obsession to teach students is slightly too much. However every subject has a purpose. English to hone our skills of communication to each other, to have the ability to express the wonderful ideas we have for generations to come. Math and Science to explore the foundations of knowledge, the roots that would sprout more and more ideas to show. History, to honor those who contributed a lot, and to learn from our mistakes of war and pain and misery, so that we can build from those errors new times of intense pleasure and joy and peace for everyone.
Think about it this way: by surviving the brain-melting torture school brings us, we can use the knowledge and come up with wise, painless ways other than school, and homework, and tests to keep generations to come successful. By thinking of school as a tool instead of a weight, we could bring it to an end for the future-our future.

If I Were A Bird

If I were a bird
I would glide to the sky
I would brush the wispy clouds as I fly by
And then I would dive through wind and breeze
And I would feel the earth as it lives and breathes
I’d slice through the air with fiery wings
And against the white sun I would begin to sing
And through the hush of the air my story would go
Whispering secrets it would blow
Then the the rivers would gurgle and the trees would hiss
Of the dark swirling depths of my soul’s abyss
Gold eyes ablaze and bronze talons alight
To the sun I would soar as it sinks into night
And as my soul burns from it’s scorching heat
My freedom as a bird would be complete
To the Heavens I’d go to finish my song
Melodies drifting all nightlong
And after I died everyone would know
Of the bird who’s eyes would always glow
Who’s secrets were kept locked within
Her flamed wings never to be seen again

I dreamed of the ocean and I dreamed of the sky,

and within the two I dreamed I could fly,

I dreamed of those who are high up above,

and I  hoped and I dreamed of endless love,

and then my dream ended and a nightmare arose,

and everything stopped and everything froze,

I dreamed of violence and horror and tears,

I dreamed of the world as a world of fear,

I dreamed of fire and darkness and light,

and it kept me sobbing all through the night,

then I dreamed of memories at last,

of the comings and the goings all through the past,

and when I woke up I wondered if

my dreams were real, actual things,

If people were bad and I could have wings,

or if they were just dreams within dreams

 

I was inspired to write this poem by-how ironic-a dream. I actually wished all these things. For a while, I dreamed of leaping into the air and flashing bronze wings in the moonlight, showing off my feathers. One time, I was separated from my friend and all I could see in her face was the wild fury of flames in her eyes and the darkness that separated us and the light in her, in us, slowly and painfully fading away. In this poem, I combine all the things cherished, now bittersweet memories. The end, or the conclusion, is a hook. And even though I have already posted this poem and  published it, I still wonder if those things were reality, or my mind slowly drowning in emotions.

Baby. Such a stupid name for a doll. Then again, every 3-year old calls everything the name with an “e” at the end. Doggy. Horsey. Birdie. Mommy. Daddy. What could a baby doll be named as? I probably asked when I got it. Such an expensive thing should be named and cherished. And while I did loved it so much, I never considered naming it Mary or Rose  or anything else reasonable. So Baby it was called.

I took her absolutely everywhere. Every night, I snuggled with her. I told her all my secrets. Complained to her about those little things in life that bothered me. Whispered to her my favorite books at night, when I was supposed to be sleeping. Chatted to her merrily with not a care in the world. And the exciting part was?

Baby was always there. When I spoke to my mom, she was usually on the phone. My story would end at the same time the receiver’s message ended. “What did you say?” She’d ask carelessly. And when I muttered,”never mind,” she’d lecture me on how rude it was to “be speaking while Mommy and Daddy are on the phone.” Baby never said a word. She always listened. And she was always there when I wanted her. She had lovely blue eyes that looked so peaceful. Not the creepy eyes of any regular doll. Her dress was plaid. She had frilly white socks.  But the best part was her sparkling gold hair.

When I was little, I chewed on my hair. Didn’t everyone? I don’t do it anymore. But back then, it was too much a problem for my mom. She told me of nasty bugs and lice that could damage my hair. Attempting to scare me into breaking my habits, she showed me them online. “Does Baby have them?” I asked her innocently. “Ye-no. What?” My mom sputtered.

I chewed Baby’s hair instead.

One night, we were at an airport. I can’t remember  what I saw but where we sat was near a window. One of those huge ones that you could look through to see planes taking off and landing at. And it stank-like sewage. we were near a trash can. The air was heavy with airport junk food and old leather seats it was awful. But we were stuck until the plane came so I took out Baby.

I fed her and let her sip out of plastic bottles. I rocked her back and forth while singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little star,” the only real song I knew. The next thing I knew, I was being pushed and shoved into the plane. I screamed at my mom. Poured tears until everything was blurry. My sister cried silently.

I am told that my dad cancelled his flight and took one back to that airport, just to look for that doll. The only one I cared for. He talked to attendants in worried tones. They shook their heads and turned away. Me and my sister were quiet, mourning Baby’s loss. My sister knew how much I loved Baby. She had a doll of her own, too.

Some people know what it feels to have people dead. People we care about stiff and cold, their sightless eyes staring up. But at least they had bodies to mourn over. I had nothing.

Only when I missed Baby did I realize just how much I loved her. How could a torn, crinkly toy be loved so much? Love is mysterious in more ways than one. And everyone is different.

When I was five, I wrote a letter to Baby. Because of course she wasn’t dead. Not really anyway. But who knows what position she was in? Perhaps she was being shipped to Africa for a child in need. Or perhaps she was found by another kid, one that was snotty and mean and ripped Baby apart. Or maybe, just maybe, she is under the ancient leather seat, waiting for a child who would never come.

 

 

The sun might as well swelled twice it’s size when you enter Austin, Texas. The earth is not scorched but it might as well be. heat would not be the perfect word to describe the burning weight on your back. More like fire. Like the sun itself fell from the sky and landed on every inch of flesh within reach of its rays. If I were you, when I arrive in Austin, I would find a sanctuary from it. But is there such Paradise? And wouldn’t staying inside, shielded from the sun, be quite boring? Actually, the safest place from the sun is not inside. When you jump into a swimming pool, you don’t vanish from the sun’s death rays. However it certainly feels like it!

First, the literal definition of “swimming pool” is a huge tub of icy water. When you first stick in your toe, there is a unfamiliar and very much cherished chill that swarms up your leg. You don’t like the cold feeling. However one side-the red, sunburned side- begs you to come in. And as soon as the soothing water envelopes you, you don’t regret coming.

Speaking of coming in, there are swimming pools all over Austin. I used to believe anyone who didn’t have one within easy reach would shrivel up into some kind of dry brown crusty thing. Although that obviously isn’t true, it is probably very close to the truth. If we didn’t have swimming pools I would spend most of my summer bathing in my fridge!

Once, it was a typical sweltering summer day. My friends and I were strolling merrily along our neighborhood. Exhausted and uncomfortably hot, we decided to make a brief stop at the neighborhood pool. As we trekked there, my friends noticed our singed skin. We had sunburns. The irritating red spots stung annoyingly. I was reminded just how scorching the sun really was. However, once we lowered our cracked, parched skins into the massaging liquid, it was as if they had never been there at all. In fact the pool felt so good that we decided to go swimming later that day.

The sun really is bittersweet. Perhaps where you live, basking in its rays is heavenly. But if you stepped within our flaming borders, it instantly changes. In order to avoid the vicious rays of the sun, while enjoying the happy blue and lush green environment, the swimming pool is the only choice.

Carrying it around, everywhere, the phone must have some kind of helpfulness. And it does! The following five apps will help you especially in your life and making it easier!
Pressing ten digits on your phone and waiting impatiently for the person to answer just to say a simple message is one thing. But having the ability to send that very message with a few keys, a button, and two seconds is a whole other story! iMessage. Literally the world’s smartphone. Anyone can tell anyone anything anytime, anywhere, with that single app. And that’s what it’s for: making communication even easier than calling. It’s so popular, so absolutely irresistible that it comes with every apple device, already loaded in.
But what is communication without publicly? That’s the definition of social media. Showing things to everyone. And what better way to exceed this than going on the Internet? The Internet. A web of photos, creations, information, and knowledge. If your business is low, spotlight it on the Internet. Anyone can access it at anytime. It even comes with any iDevice! So many apps connect to it. Many photo-sharers post on it.
And you can too…Especially websites commonly used on the Internet…which brings me to Youtube, the largest, most used, website in the world. The name is what it is: A “tube” that connects you to everyone watching. You can put your work onstage without being here. Or watch from the audience. Knowledge, music videos, how-to’s…you name it! If you are absolutely terrified on failing a test, try searching keywords on your subject lesson and hundreds of videos will pop up, all ready, all free, all eager for you to click it and watch it, for the world to know of its presence. 
Another good app is Quizlet. Instead of wasting money, paper, and time in writing index cards for studying, you can type them instead. Further settings enable the “index cards” to have the definition, word, or both on the side you see. By tapping the words you can highlight them, enhancing your memory for them. Games, tests, and other study helpers are included. Nearly every method of studying is electronically reproduced on this app.
The last app is Reminders, an app that is true to its name. It will make loud, hard-to-ignore noises to tell you to do whatever it is to do! Are you having trouble remembering homework? Put each subject’s homework in Reminders after you receive the assignment and you will be reminded everyday! Settings allow you to be reminded at different times or constantly, say, every hour.
All these apps will help you in easy, compacted ways. They will all make you more responsible too!

Photo Credit: Riccardo Cuppini via Compfight

 

It feels like every trembling step takes me closer to an unseen, unknown enemy. I felt like a butterfly in a spider’s web. A melody in a lonely silence.

A lone light in the jeering darkness of which I was forced to go.

Every hunk of old furniture seemed broken or tattered in some way. Splintered oak tables lay still like bloodied soldiers, their proud and elegant  engravings slashed away. Rotten, moldy  food made the air thick with  sickly sweet stenches. There were split vases and thin shards of glass strewn all over. Everywhere I looked, pieces of material lay, still and broken. It was the aftermath of a  battle; The fastidiously-made furnishings against the merciless, fearless monster.

It was obvious who had won.

Nothing in the mysterious cavern was beautiful anymore. Every intrinsic detail that had been carefully placed within the material had been shredded to dust. It was as if the Phantom was jealous of all the beautiful things in the theater. Even the candles were burned to low, gooey stubs. A pile of some fuzzy grey stuff looked hastily shoved into a corner. I picked my way over, clutching my skirts as to not let them touch the wall.

The silence was deafening. It is chilling how still everything was. Again I was reminded of how much of an outsider I was. I lightly stepped over a crumpled chair, curious. As I came closer, I could see the thin, grey coating of mold. But the shadows were still, too thick to see. What was it? Closer I crept, leaping over a battered table. Now I could catch a glimpse of something silver and shiny. But there still wasn’t enough light. What was it?Something in my brain flashed red sirens and something wrote DANGER all over the softly-glowing pile but my burning curiosity blotted it out. Perhaps if I touched it? No one would notice. I stretched my arm, closer and closer. Almost there! I could almost feel it. Just inches away, no centimeters…

OH MY GOD IT MOVED!

The moment my fingers brushed the slimy, pulsing mass, all the lights went out. I was in inky blackness. Still, it didn’t matter. My goodness, I had touched it! I had touched that-that thing–

I couldn’t stop shuddering like I was being electrocuted. After Christine became at peace, I had decided to come here to clean it out but I never expected anything so-so-so…

What?

Slowly, I struck a match and lit my candle. The flames danced and flickered and twisted but I could finally get a good look at it-whatever it was. Slowly, trembling, I lifted the candle to reveal the thing. In the darkness it looked like some kind of slimy, pulsing glob. My right hand was shaking uncontrollably so I used my left to steady it. I bent my candle forward a  bit to see it better. And at that moment, the second I was going to reveal it, I considered the thing didn’t have to be an it.

That it could be a he.

 

Photo Credit: Riccardo Cuppini via Compfight

What does every kid crave and nearly every store sell? What could be sold by huge bags or single bits? What has that juicy, mouthwatering smell and sugary taste that sends pleasant shivers everywhere? What has a literal definition of “sweet”?everyone, even mature adults love candy.
There are many different varieties. Some you chew, some you suck on forever, and some you do both. Whatever the case, candy has specific characteristics that make even the healthiest, skinniest, most “not another bite”-saying people demand more. And more. And more. It always starts with the first piece, the first touch of tongue on candy feeling. It explodes with flavor, and demands your senses. And surprisingly-however bad for you It is-the sensational slippery smoothness that pulls at your taste buds persuades your body. And then, against your heavy will, your body persuades you.
And there’s more: people who just manage to avoid the begging, pleading, puppy-eyed lump of sugar can never really take refuge. It will always be there, tugging at the back of your mind, or staring at you through the firm windows of candy shops. Your body would pull. Your senses would reel. And you-well-you , can’t do anything but walk almost robotically to the shop. The angry, demanding part of your brain will settle and the sweet aroma wafting from inside will drag you in no matter what. Once you smell candy, there is no stepping out of it.
Then there is the popularity: I can swear to you nearly every shop in the universe has candy. When you check out at your local grocery store’s counter you will see them, and a huge board screaming at you, “ONLY 99 CENTS!!!” There is even a whole day devoted to walk around stealing it from other people’s houses. The worlds most popular game ever is Candy Crush.
No wonder people can’t wait to snatch it everywhere they see it. This irresistible, heavenly, sugary food is simply one of a kind. No one can break the lulling pull of temptation from candy. It will always be there, waiting, silent and innocent. Knowing that as soon as you lay eyes on it you wouldn’t, couldn’t resist.

This is a poem made from quotes from the book The 5th Wave.

Better die than live
Better give up than fight
Better hide than face
The aliens.
Ask them why you should
Tell them there’s there’s no point
Tell them you’d rather die than face
The aliens.
The final battle will not be fought
Over any plain or ocean
We are the clay
They are the sculptors and they are
The aliens.
I will teach you love and death
I will empty you of grief and guilt
I will make my final stand
And you will be my battlefield.